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kenobihater · 3 years ago

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You’re (Probably) Drawing Archers Wrong

Hello, my name is Len and I’ve shot archery as a hobby for as long as I can remember. I have a problem: fanart depicting archery is oftentimes Very Wrong! I feel like most of this stems from not using good reference pictures, and from a general lack of knowledge. So, I wanted to create a post for anyone interested in accurately drawing an archer! Disclaimer: this is not a comprehensive post or a tutorial on how to shoot, and is intended for artists. That said, if you’re interested in archery, you may still find value in this post, though I recommend doing your own research. I’m certain there will be errors here considering I do this as a hobby not a profession, and I welcome corrections. Finally, archery can be dangerous, and even if you don’t read any more of this post, PLEASE read the safety section.

Safety

This part is going to be a PSA, because the thought of someone reading my post, getting into archery themselves, and doing these things? It terrifies me. So, rules number one, two, and three are: never aim at another person (duh), never use a damaged bow or arrows, and never, NEVER dry fire a bow. Dry firing means drawing back and releasing the string without an arrow. This can make your bow EXPLODE. It can hurt you, and even if your bow doesn’t explode, it’s fucked it up so bad that you should never shoot that bow again. Don’t do it, and don’t draw art of people doing it. Okay, PSA done, now onto the rest of the post.

There’s a TL;DR at the bottom!

First thing’s fist: the equipment! Archery requires four things: a bow, a quiver, arrows, and protective equipment (which is usually what I see most posts lacking). The first thing you should do before you draw your archer is decide what type of bow to give them. I’m not covering crossbows because I’ve only shot one once and I also Hate Them. There are three main types of bows: longbows, recurves, and compounds.

Bows

There are two different types of bows that are commonly called a longbow: English longbows, and flatbows (yes I’m considering flatbows a type of longbow to simplify things). English longbows are very large and have a very high draw weight (which means it’s hard to pull the sting back). These were used mainly by the English in the Middle Ages. Flatbows are typically smaller and have a lower draw weight as well as a slightly different profile. These were mainly used by Native American tribes such as the Hupa, the Karuk, and the Wampanoag, as well as prehistoric Europeans and the Finnish, among others. It is often seen in historical fiction and fantasy, and the English longbow is usually depicted as Robin Hood’s preferred bow type. I believe Katniss uses a flatbow in the beginning of Hunger Games, but don’t quote me on that.

Recurves have limbs that curve outwards and are smaller than longbows. Many, many cultures have used these, including but not limited to certain West-coast Native American tribes, the Mongols, the Scythians, the Greeks, the Turks, the Koreans, and the Chinese. Recurves can be made of either wood or of a combination of wood, horn, and glue, making them either composite or non-composite. These are the bows you typically see mounted archers using, and are often used in competitions today. It’s commonly seen in fantasy, and is the bow type used by Legolas, Tauriel, Katniss Everdeen in Mockingjay, Merida, Green Arrow has a lever action, and Hawkeye uses a silly collapsible one.

Compound bows are the most commonly used bow among hunters, are almost always made of fiberglass and either carbon fiber or aluminum, are Technical Looking, and pack the biggest punch for the least amount of effort. It’s a modern invention used worldwide. I don’t know where else to put this, but almost everyone who I know that shoots a compound uses something called a trigger release (pictured below) to draw back the string because it means your release is cleaner.

So, those are the main types of bow! Google which bow would be appropriat for the era and region your character is from, or if they’re from space or an alternate dimension, pick whichever you think fits the character the best.

Quivers

There are two types of quiver: back quivers, like Legolas wears, and hip quivers, like those used in the Olympics. Which quiver you should use varies from culture to culture and time period to time period. If it’s fantasy, set in modern day, or set in the future, you can chose whichever you prefer.

Arrows

Arrows can have shafts of wood or fiberglass, can have real feathers or synthetic for fletching, and can have countless different types of heads. The main two that are in use today are called field points and broadheads, and most commercial arrow shafts allow you to freely switch them out.

The arrow on the top is a field point, used only for target practice, and the arrow on the bottom is a broadhead, used only for hunting or war. You never hunt with a field point, and never practice with a broadhead. Basically every fictional character out there is shooting to kill, so they’ll all use either a broadhead, or a culturally appropriate variation of deadly arrowhead (bodkin, scythian, flint, etc). Do your research! A Native American wouldn’t use a bodkin, and a Scythian wouldn’t use a flint arrowhead!

Protective Equipment

The one really necessary piece of protective equipment is hand protection. If your character uses a three fingered draw or a pinch draw (we’ll speak on draws later), they need either an archery tab, or an archery glove. If your character is using a thumb draw, they need a thumb ring. These three pieces of equipment keep archers from getting blisters and damaged skin.

This is a tab.

This is the type of glove that I use. All an archery glove needs to do is protect your three draw fingers, but it can be more traditionally glove-like than this one. I’ve even seen ones that are a combination leather bracer and archery glove that give big Fantasy Vibes.

This is a ring. Some historical ones can get REAL ornate and pretty.

Another piece of protective equipment that is commonly used is an arm guard or a bracer. Not everyone uses one, because if your form is good the string should not be hitting your arm, so you can get away with not giving your character one. They can vary in style from something like the more minimal one below up to a full leather bracer.

Form

Form can vary greatly and I’m not about to diss other archery disciplines especially ones I’m ignorant on, so just know that not every culture has the same form. I’m just going to cover a few cultures’ variations, and what I’ve been taught by 21st century Midwest archers. There are several aspects to form, as form is just another term for “everything pertaining to how you shoot”. I’m going to break it down into stance, posture, draw, elbow discipline, holding the bow, and anchor. These are not the only aspects of form (there’s aiming, release, and breath control), but these are the only relevant aspects to drawing archers. I will not be covering mounted archery because I’m sadly ignorant on the topic. I recommend doing your own research and looking into Mongolian mounted archery.

Stance

The thing all stances have in common is that you should put your feet a shoulder-length apart, balance your weight equally between both feet, keep your knees slightly bent, and stand facing approximately 90 degrees away from your target. There are three stances that are common that I’m aware of: squared, open, and closed.

Squared stance means keeping both feet squared up to an imaginary line. Open means that you’re facing slightly towards the target. Closed means you’re facing slightly away. I vary between square and open, and to be honest I’ve never noticed a difference. So long as you draw your character standing with a stable stance, facing away from the target, you should be good.

Posture

Your posture should be with your back straight, your hips squared, and should never have you leaning. Below is one of my favorite archery pictures, not only because I love Marilyn, but because it is a great illustration of what not to do posture wise.

See how she’s leaning back? Yeah, don’t draw your character like that, it looks foolish.

Draw

There are four different types of draw that I’m aware of, I’m educated on three, and I have experience with one (though I’m itching to learn to thumb draw). The types of draw are three fingered draw, otherwise known as Mediterranean draw, pinch draw, thumb draw aka Mongolian draw, and Japanese draw, or torikake. I know fuck all about Japanese draws, so I’m not going to speak out of my ass on topics I don’t understand (if anyone reading practices traditional Japanese archery I would love if you chimed in!). I highly recommend doing your own research on which civilization your character comes from and which draw they use, especially if it’s Japanese because I’m not covering that here.

First up is three-fingered. This is the draw I use, and it’s the most common draw in my limited experience in the Midwestern archery community. It is common in Europe and the Middle East. It requires you to use three fingers, partially wrapped around the string. You do not pinch the arrow. Most people place their index finger above the arrow and their middle and ring finger below, though I’ve seen all different variations. If your character is right handed and uses this draw, draw the arrow on the left side of the bow. Lefties do the inverse, and make sure and draw a left handed bow while you’re at it.

Next is the pinch draw. I’ve never shot with this, nor seen it used. It was common in the Americas and for a time in Ancient Greece. You’re supposed to physically pinch the arrow between your thumb and index finger. Your character would need a full archery glove if you draw them with this grip. The release is supposed to be smooth because there’s only one point of contact, rather than three. I believe you would place the arrow on the right side of the bow when using this technique, but I cannot speak with certainty as I’ve never seen it done (again, lefties would do the opposite).

Last but not least is the thumb or Mongolian draw, though it is/was also widespread in Korea, China, Russia, Persia, Turkey, and the Roman and Byzantine Empires. In this draw you wrap your thumb completely around the string and tuck it behind your other fingers. You do not grab the arrow. This draw utilizes your strongest digit, and so it may be less strenuous than other draws. This draw is commonly used with mounted archery. If your character is right handed and using this draw, put the arrow on the right side of the bow (lefties, do the inverse).

Elbows

Another aspect of your draw that is important is elbow discipline. The elbow of your character’s string hand should not point up into the air. It should point straight back, like the picture below.

Now, the other elbow is important, too. Don’t draw them with a locked elbow, instead keep it slightly bent and rotated inwards, like the picture below.

Holding the Bow

Your character shouldn’t have a death grip on the bow. Instead, show it resting in the curve between the thumb and index finger. Here’s a wikihow article that describes the different ways to hold different types of bows that is more succinct than I could ever be. Ignore the crossbow (derogatory).

Anchor

Everyone needs an anchor. What’s an anchor, you ask? An anchor is a fixed spot that you draw your string back to whenever you’re going to shoot. It’s necessary in order to ensure consistency, which is accuracy’s best friend. Your anchor spot can vary. I anchor at the corner of my lip. Some people anchor underneath their chin. Some anchor to their ear. I’ve even seen some people in Asian disciplines anchor behind the ear or almost above the head, which is incredibly impressive. Bottom line, unless your character’s archery discipline has them draw behind the ear or above the head, you need to have them touching their head somewhere. The only wrong anchor is a short anchor. If you can’t draw the string back far enough to touch your face, that means you’re either trying to draw back a bow with too high a poundage, or the draw length is too short for you. The picture above of the person with the compound trigger release has a good anchor point on their face. The picture of the person with the arm guard has a good anchor point under their chin.

This person, on the other hand? Their anchor is out in space, that is to say they don’t have one (also their elbow discipline, posture, and stance are atrocious). I see this in fanart ALL THE TIME. It’s a pet peeve of mine. Don’t do this, have them anchor to their head or behind it somewhere.

Carrying The Bow

The best way is to just carry it in your hand by the bow (not the string). You can give your character a bow sling, or a back mount like Legolas has as well. You can slip the string over your shoulder and wear it across your back in a pinch, though this may damage the string. The only really wrong way to carry a bow is by the string, though you can damage your bow carrying it on your back if you’re stupid, and I’ve never tried to do so with a compound. Too pokey.

TL;DR

If you’re drawing a fantasy character, go buck wild. Still make sure to give them the right type of arrowhead, hand protection of some sort, a strong stance (no kneeling or sitting), good posture, a sensible draw, elbow discipline, an anchor point (don’t be like the person above!), and a good way to carry their bow, but you can have fun with the rest. If you’re drawing a character from history, research the archery discipline they would most likely use, and draw them with the appropriate bow type, quiver, arrows, protective equipment, stance, posture, draw, elbow discipline, anchor, and bow carry.

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mochacoffee · 5 years ago

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I created a 3D model and floor plan of Aziraphale’s bookshop in Good Omens!

I really wanted one for reference and it seemed like many others did too, so I put together my best approximation of where everything is. Beneath the color version, you’ll see I’ve included two simplified, labeled versions of the plan. The verbal labels are so you know what the object is. The numerical labels are there to make it easy to find more information about the object. I’ve put a numbered index below the cut that features the relevant reference images I used for each object and some more information about why I put it where I did/why it’s relevant/etc. I want to be very clear that I did not add anything to this from my own imagination; every single item and feature represents something I actually saw in the shop.

If you have any questions or want more information about this, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask! I put so much time into figuring it out and I would be more than happy to be a resource for anyone who needs it. Also, if you notice any errors, let me know and I’ll update the post. I hope this is helpful!

Update: Here’s a link to an interactive view of the shop! It takes a moment to load. You can click the “3D” tab in the top right to view it in first person and walk around inside. Double click a spot on the floor to move there and pan around by clicking and dragging. The oval symbol next to the person walking gives you a birds-eye view.

Update 2: Here’s a higher quality rendering of the first person perspective! Update 3: I made an alternate first person render here complete with a ceiling, light fixtures, and ambient lighting from outside. This one is optimized for making it seem more like you’re actually there, whereas the previous one is for maximum visibility. This render also has some minor accuracy improvements, which are detailed under the cut in the relevant sections. (The first interactive link with the birds-eye view updates automatically.) Update 4: In case you’re interested in Aziraphale’s books specifically, I’ve made a catalogue of those here.

1. Unknown closet

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There is a door behind Gabriel when he talks to Aziraphale in the backroom. So where does it lead? Well. The wall we can see behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop (see #17: boxes/storage) doesn’t have a door in it. It’s also facing the wrong direction and it’s in the middle of the southwest wall ⁠— we know this because Aziraphale can see Shadwell in the entrance from there. So the wall behind him at that moment is definitely not the wall of the backroom. We’re left with this door and unaccounted-for corner. The only thing that makes sense to me then is that there’s a closet there between the two spaces. My personal theory is that this closet is “the back” that Aziraphale refers to keeping the Châteauneuf-du-Pape in since I didn’t see any other obvious alcohol storage space in the shop. Update: @n0nb1narydemon has suggested this could be a bathroom for guests or because culturally it’s a room you can use to extricate yourself from situations, which is another possibility! They also asked where I think the doors behind object #20 lead, and I thought it would be good to add here that they might lead to the shop next door or to this unknown room. It’s possible the room actually extends further into the next shop and encompasses the part of the wall where the doors are, but I didn’t have concrete evidence to support that idea so I didn’t include it in the floor plan. Update: I was wrong about the Châteauneuf-du-Pape! In the DVD bookshop tour we learn that the cabinet in the top left corner of the backroom is where Aziraphale keeps his alcohol, including that particular wine. I added a reference photo of Neil pointing it out. Thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomens for bringing the existence of this tour to my attention — ya girl got the special edition blu-ray even though I don’t have a blu-ray player yet so I hadn’t actually seen it. Also, there is a chair right next to this cabinet against the wall which I missed in my initial rendering of the shop but have since added.

2. Part of shop next door (top right)

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This was very tricky to figure out because you can see from the exterior of the shop that there is no wall past the back door, but from the interior there is clearly more space there. BUT in a behind the scenes photo of David during the fire scene, you can see on this back wall that there’s actually a nook with two large entryways, similar to the one that makes up the backroom. From the exterior you can see that the area next to the back door is taken up by the window of the next shop, so I concluded that this little square of space was not part of the bookshop’s interior, but the nook did extend further back than where the shop appears to end from the outside. I had to make one bookshelf more nubby than the others to make this work, but after a LOT of trial and error I decided one nubby bookshelf was the only thing that could explain the apparent architecture of the space. Any floor design that accounted for a bookshelf of the same length as the others just did not make sense on a fundamental level.

3. Part of shop next door (bottom left)

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From the exterior of the shop you can see that this window belongs to the adjacent store, as the wall is a different color. Within the bookshop you can also see when Gabriel and Sandalphon enter the backroom, there’s no window behind them; there’s a sink. So it’s definitely not Aziraphale’s window. The wall of the backroom is also further into the shop’s interior than the wall Aziraphale’s desk sits against, so there’s a corner of space inside that’s unaccounted for. At first I assumed it was plumbing from the sink that had been sealed off or something, but when I realized that’s where the window was on the outside, I figured the space is probably part of the next shop over.

4. Aziraphale’s desk

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This is where Aziraphale sits in the shop like 90% of the time. It’s on the Eastern side of the shop because Aziraphale was the guardian of the Eastern gate in Eden and because production designer Michael Ralph is a goddamn genius (source). Shout out to @posted-omens for this fascinating post analyzing the chariot sculpture on his desk. Update: Fun fact, the ladder behind his desk is actually called a library chair, supposedly designed by Benjamin Franklin. It functions as a ladder but you can also fold it into a chair! Neil mentions this in the DVD extra bookshop tour. I added screen caps of it to the reference photos above since I don’t have a specific section for the ladders!

5. Phone Aziraphale calls Crowley from

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I will be honest with you: I think there’s something a little fucked up about this corner. It is my nemesis. I tried so many things to make it work and I just could not get it exactly right, but what you see in the floor plan is my best guess as to what’s going on. The conundrum is that the spot where Aziraphale stands when he’s on the phone with Crowley is definitely closer to the fence around the staircase than it is in my layout. But the table he’s in front of is also clearly against the outside wall of the backroom, and the stairs being where I’ve put them here is the only thing that made sense based on the reference photos. So there’s some weird spacing issue where there’s a little too much room between the fence around the stairs and this phone. If I were to move the walls to close that gap then there would be way too much space in the backroom and way too little space on the southwest side of the shop, so I think the walls are correct as they are. So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. What I can say for certain is that the phone is there and it’s on a table next to a lamp, and the table is definitely against the wall of the backroom and behind the staircase. The distance between these things doesn’t hold up perfectly, but their arrangement does. On another note, this is one of two phones in the shop. The other is on the table next to the cash register (see #9) which Aziraphale picks up when Crowley calls to say they need to talk about Armageddon. I believe this is the same one he uses to call Adam’s house in episode two, only he moves it from the table by the register to the top of a pile of books (which I’m pretty sure were stacked on the circular table between his desk and the sofa). Update: OKAY SO it turns out in the behind-the-scenes bookshop tour on the DVD we get two more teeny tiny glimpses of this corner! I added them to the reference photo album above. It appears I was right about the lamp, phone, and bookshelf being where they are, except that the bookshelf and table are touching. There’s also a ladder propped against the shelf. I’d say it’s possible there are actually two bookshelves here; based on the parallax in the DVD tour, the one next to the phone didn’t appear to be against the wall, but we know there is a bookshelf against that wall because we see it in the show. (P.S. There’s also another chair against that wall which I didn’t see because Aziraphale was standing in front of it, so I added that too.) This leads me to believe there’s one against the wall and another one further from it next to the table. But that’s just my speculation, so I won’t change the actual floor plan unless I find more evidence.

6. Where they’re drinking when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound

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When Aziraphale sits down at this table, the background is of the same space he refers to as the “backroom” when Gabriel and Sandalphon show up. He’s across the table from Crowley, behind whom you can see a bookshelf, the staircase, and the coat rack. The table is half in the backroom half out, since the room has two large entryways in its wall. Update: I realized the wall behind this table actually dips back further! It is a weirdly-shaped wall! But in the DVD special tour of the bookshop Neil walks past it and there’s clearly an area that recesses even further, so I’ve modified that in the interactive floor plan :)

7. Bench of books that start the fire

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When Shadwell leaves the book shop and slams the door, one of the candles knocks over and rolls into a pile of books and other papers (including the Sound of Music lmao). You can see it’s the same bench the customer is standing in front of when he gives Gabriel a weird look after he yells about pornography. (I love this customer so much because they gave me a super HD shot of this particular area.) The poles of the fence around the bench, the staircase behind it, and the smaller shelves beside it holding Terry Pratchett’s books make it clear that the bench is in that spot in the shop and that it’s the place the fire starts.

8. Coat rack with Terry’s hat on it

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Aziraphale hangs his coat here right before Crowley calls him to say they need to talk about Armageddon. Out of focus in the frame you can see the lion sculpture that sits on the fence surrounding the stairs (see #11) and a bookshelf. The camera pans past the shelf and we see him walk past his desk to pick up the phone by the cash register, which puts that shelf right next to his sitting area. We can also see the coat rack in the background when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound. The coat rack has Terry Pratchett’s hat and scarf on it in his honor (source).

9. Antique cash register

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You can see this register in the background when Crowley is on the couch and when Aziraphale invites Gabriel and Sandalphon into the backroom. I know it’s an antique cash register because it’s photographed and referenced directly on page 79 of the Good Omens TV Companion. It’s a typewriter in my floor plan because the website I used (floorplanner.com), who knows why, did not have a 3D model of a cash register from the early 1900s.

10. Back door

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Thank you so much to @fuckyeahgoodomens for this post where they figured all this out!! Wonderful work! You can see this door from the exterior of the shop and its existence is referenced in the Good Omens script book on page 94. It’s also in the background of a behind the scenes shot of Aziraphale pulling away the carpet so he can contact heaven. Behind him in that shot you can see the bust (which moves around a lot - see #19) and a grandfather clock, and in the show from one of the aerial shots you can see that the carpet is pulled west, further confirming the door’s location.

11. Fence around the stairs

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I have concluded that this is a fence to keep customers from going up to the second floor. It looks to be made of golden pillars with wooden shelving atop them. The fence crosses beneath the staircase on one side and the other side ends about where the stair’s railing does. You can see this fence behind Crowley when he realizes Adam has named the hellhound, behind Aziraphale when he calls Crowley to tell him he knows where the antichrist is, and next to the customer who gives Gabriel a look after he yells “PORNOGRAPHY!” It’s also visible in one of the aerial shots of the shop. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I noticed the lion sculpture on this fence is not just a lion, but a lion with a woman holding its mane. I think it might also be a lamp? In one of the reference photos, the one that looks down from the second floor, it appears there’s a light in the woman’s other hand. I’d be interested to see if we can track down what this particular sculpture is and what it might mean. Update: @cantdewwrite has suggested here that the light/sculpture could be a replica of one of the bronze statues in the Victoria Memorial, which does look quite similar. I’m fairly certain Aziraphale’s sculpture is of a woman, which would make it the figure in the memorial representing peace.

12. Open book of illustrated story of Adam and Eve

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Shout out to @amuseoffyre for this post where she figured out what this was! Update: I’ve determined that this book is The Gospel in the Old Testament: A series of pictures by Harold Copping. The painting is, naturally, by Harold Copping. It’s called “Adam and Eve after the fall.” Unfortunately this book is out of print and I haven’t been able to track down an ebook or scan of it, so I can’t confirm the text just yet. But based on its premise, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s telling the story of Adam and Eve directly. Aziraphale has a second copy of this book visible on the shelf next to the sofa.

13. Antique computer

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This is the computer Aziraphale does his extremely scrupulous taxes with, as confirmed in this ask that @neil-gaiman answered from @prismatic-bell! It’s an Amstrad, according to the bookshop tour in the DVD extras.

14. Spiral staircase

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These stairs are in many shots of the shop so it was pretty obvious where they were.

15. Sink, teapots, etc.

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You can see this wall right before Gabriel walks into the backroom and behind Aziraphale when he’s drinking with Crowley at the end of episode one. It appears he has two hand towels, a ceramic angel soap dish (aw), some teapots, and a decorated box above it, among other things. On the floor beside the sink is what I believe to be a broom handle, though it could be a mop? Next to that is a bronze statue of an angel atop a small table piled with books. On the other side of the sink is an open book on a stand ⁠— it has a fabric bookmark in it with a crucifix at the end, so I’m assuming it’s a bible. Light reading while you make your tea I guess. Update: Thank you so much to @brightwanderer for pointing out in this post that he has four extra angel wing mugs above the sink as well! I couldn’t figure out what they were! Update: Neil said in this ask that you can see an oven by the sink when Gabriel and Sandalphon walk in. Which you can! It’s real small and there’s a little pot on top of it. I’ve added a screencap of it to the images album for this area. Update: I’m donating my heart and soul to @ack-emma for suggesting in the replies to this ask that the central object above the sink is a samovar!! I had never heard of this so I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I think they hit the nail on the head. Y’all Aziraphale really likes tea.

16. Sculpture

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Thank you @ineffable-endearments, @behold-my-squeees, @srebrnafh, @aethelflaedladyofmercia for contributing to this post about the statue and its potential symbolism! Update: @doctorscienceknowsfandom has added some analysis to the post above suggesting that this is a sculpture of Paris, the figure from Greek mythology. I’m inclined to agree! Update: BINGO! @tifaria has found Aziraphale’s exact statue (confirmed Paris!) in this post. Brilliant work!! This community continues to blow me away. Further discussion about the sculpture’s meaning in the context of the show here — be sure to check the notes for further commentary.

17. Boxes/storage

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These boxes and piles of books can be seen behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop and behind Crowley while he’s rambling drunkenly about why they should stop Armageddon in episode one. They’re in a nook that goes further back than where the shop appears to end from its exterior (see #2 for more info on that!).

18. Stacks of books

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You can see this stack in one of the aerial shots of Shadwell in the shop. I didn’t include most stacks of books in the floor plan because they’re literally everywhere and I had to manually set how high each book would be from the floor, so putting them in piles got tedious very quickly. But I did include a few notable ones, and this is one of those imo because there’s not much else in that area as far as I can tell.

19. Bust

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This little guy moves around quite a bit, unlike most things in the shop. In some photos/scenes it’s where I put it on the floor plan, but in others it’s closer to the northwestern wall and in this 360 video of the shop it’s right between two of the columns. I chose to put it where I did because it’s there in the scene where Crowley is drunkenly rambling about Armageddon, whereas the other locations I’ve seen it in were from behind the scenes shots and stuff. I’m not sure who the bust is of! It appears to have a little ribbon with a medal around its next though. Update: More speculation about the bust here, courtesy of @aethelflaedladyofmercia! Update: @fuckyeahgoodomens has confirmed in this post that the thing around the bust’s neck is the medal given to Aziraphale by Gabriel in this deleted scene!

20. Divider I think?

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Please for the love of god if you know what this thing is, tell me. My best guess is it’s a room divider because what else looks like that?? But I don’t know why you would put a room divider there. And it still doesn’t look exactly like a divider either. But the decorative element at the top and apparent gap between the metal frame and the red bit leads me to believe it’s not furniture or a box. This mystery object is my second nemesis after the weird corner (#5). Update: @brightwanderer has suggested that it might be an embroidered/tapestry draft screen, which I think makes more sense! Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I found a very brief image of this item over Neil’s shoulder which I added to the reference photos above. I think by some miracle I was right and it is a divider. It could be a draft screen but at the very least it is shaped like a divider with at least three sections. Wahoo!

21. Record player

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This is the phonograph that’s playing Franz Schubert’s String Quintet in C major (thank you again to @fuckyeahgoodomens for that info) when we first see Aziraphale in the shop. It also plays Queen’s You’re My Best Friend when Crowley runs into the fire.

22. Terry Pratchett’s books

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Another one of the many little Terry easter eggs in the show is this set of his books! @devoursjohnlock made a post highlighting some other specific books you can find in the shop.

23. Chess set

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I saw a post once pointing out this chess set and the implication that Aziraphale and Crowley must play together sometimes, which I thought was a really nice detail to put into the set. But I can’t find the post to credit it! I will update this with a link if I do. Update: Pretty sure this is the post I saw. Thank you to @losyanya for mentioning it :)

24. Circular entryway

Images

This is one of many circle motifs that production designer Michael Ralph incorporated into the shop. It’s gorgeous. I think there’s actually more room between the archway and the door than I’ve included in this floor plan; Shadwell takes a few steps through it when he runs out of the shop. But I think the fix is just the door being further out from the entryway rather than the entryway being further in. I didn’t want to fuck with the walls to improve this particular area because when I realized the spacing was wrong, I was almost done and would’ve had to manually move each object in the shop over a few inches over. Made more sense to leave the caveat in a footnote. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour you get a brief glimpse of something on the inside wall of the entryway. I think it’s a wall sconce or something along those lines. There’s one on either side. I added them to the reference album above! I also figured out how to extend the walls to accommodate some more space there without having to move everything else, so I did that. Update: Here’s a link to some meta discussion about the cupid sculpture in front of this entryway!

25. Sofa Crowley sits on when he suggests they could be godfathers

Images

You can see that the sofa is next to Aziraphale’s desk and the cash register, and also that there’s a bookshelf behind it. From the entrance to the shop you can see two bookshelves on either side of the central circle, so it was pretty clear that the couch was on the other side of one of those shelves.

26. Wall crucifix

Images

I find it very interesting that Aziraphale has this considering Jesus isn’t a big part of angelic lore or heaven’s general priorities in the show. It would make more sense to me that he has it because it’s another memento of his time with Crowley, sort of like the illustrated story of Adam and Eve by his desk (#12). Also, fun fact, the opposite side of this wall segment is where he put up all his maps and notes about the whereabouts of the Antichrist in episode three.

#good omens #aziraphale's bookshop #good omens reference #floor plan #ref #i hope people see this i posted it at 2am because i was too excited about it to wait until daylight hours #OKAY SO PEOPLE SAW IT THANKS GUYS #check out the tag:#bookshop questions #for follow-up Qs!

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elliotoille · 5 years ago

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Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help

I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing.

I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs.

^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.

^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.

^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.

Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:

1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully.

2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.

3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft

thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.

4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.

1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view

2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.

3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.

1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.

2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.

so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.

anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.

aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want

and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.

DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol

#god im long winded as usual #Anonymous

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duskholland · 4 years ago

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since everybody loves tommy’s arms & all...how about during the middle of sex mob!tom finds our reader has a choking kink, & then maybe teases her about it afterwards (playfully, of course)...honestly anything where mob!tom chokes me & then cuddles me because THATS THE FUCKING DREAM OOF ok byeeeee

hnnnng. nsfw 18+ extended warnings beneath cut.

— it’s mob monday !! —

extended warnings: choking, MxF unprotected sex. pls have a discussion and establish safe words with your partner if you’re going to engage in kink!!!

————

Tom knows you like his arms.

It’s no secret. You love feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, love watching him when he’s in the gym letting his fists rain down over the tough material of the punching bag. There’s just something about the way his muscles clench and flex whenever he extends his arms, biceps pronounced and bulging, that turns you on beyond reproach. You always make a point of kissing them - taking each and every opportunity to drag your lips over the curves of his arms, trailing down, down, down, until your mouth settles on his fingers and you feel the weight of his digits on your tongue.

The way he touches you with his hands never fails to spike your pulse, and as he lays you down in bed one night and slots himself between your thighs, you find yourself whimpering to feel one of his palms stroking over your neck. Tom’s gentle, the lightness of his fingers contrasting the way he’s fucking you, slotting his hips against yours as he thrusts into you with deep, pleasurable movements. His lips are on yours, mouth swallowing your moans, but he notices the particularly loud groan you release when his fingers rest over the column of your throat.

With a smirk on his face, Tom pulls away from your mouth, his pupils blown with lust.

“What’s that?” He asks cockily. He stills his movements, resting with his cock lodged deep inside you. You whimper as you clench around him, and the noise doubles in volume as Tom runs his fingers over the base of your neck. Tom’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and he looks at you curiously. “Do you like it when I touch your neck, angel?”

It wasn’t like it was supposed to be a secret, yet you’ve found yourself keeping this card close to your chest. You know Tom would never judge you for anything - let alone a kink - but it’d never come up, and if you’re honest, you didn’t think he’d be into it. Yet now, he’s looking between his hand resting on your neck and the way you’re biting your lip, and you think you can see something like curiosity fluttering over his face.

“Yeah,” you admit. You strain against his hand, trying to feel a little more pressure. When you receive it and feel the hard of his palm pressing up against your neck, your eyes roll back and you whimper. “Want you to choke me, Tom.”

“Choke you, eh?” Tom brings his hand away from your neck, bringing it nearer him and staring at his palm. His Rolex glints as he flexes his fingers, a deep frown line between his eyebrows. You bite at your lip as he ponders your request, his eyes shifting a shade darker when he looks back at you. With a nod, he shifts his hand back into place, applying the most minimal of pressures. “If you want me to stop, tap out,” he murmurs, “And I’m not going to do it too hard. Not until we’ve done it a few times, alright?”

You nod immediately, but he continues to look at you, eyebrow raised, until you say, “Yeah. I understand.”

Tom hums. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck for a moment, leaving a scattering of wet kisses over your skin, and then he pulls back to press his lips to yours. He starts to move again, the brief interlude to his actions over, and you throw your head back as you feel his cock, ridged and thick, filling you up deliciously.

It’s only made better when his hand shifts back to your neck, and Tom’s thumb and index finger stretch to wrap around the front of your throat. He’s experimental with it for a while, alternating between light touches and deeper, more focused presses of his fingers, but eventually, he seems to grasp that you like it hard. You like the feeling of his hand pushing you down, love the constriction to your airway and the way your breaths come out raspy and tighter when he pushes down against you. It gives you an edge, makes your harsh moans come out louder, has you clenching around his cock. And he seems to love it, too.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Tom murmurs. His brown curls cling to his forehead as he watches you, suspended above you as he continues to fuck you. His movements are slick and easy - Tom had already brought you to two orgasms before finally slipping into you, and he’s found an easy home buried between your thighs. “Look so innocent, with my hand around your neck.” He smirks, teeth glinting. “Never would’ve known you’re so fucking dirty.”

You lick your lips as you whimper, the pressure of Tom’s hips coming down against your clit each time he thrusts into you bringing you near the edge. When his hand loosens as he repositions ever so slightly, you’re quick to push up against his palm, craving the heat of his strength coming down over you, loving the ache that’s forming in your throat.

“Desperate for it, aren’t you?” Tom’s voice is deep and husky, stacked full of arousal. “You want to feel this tomorrow, have the marks of my fingers wrapped around your throat.” He breaks off to chuckle, brown eyes almost black. “You want everyone to know that you like to get choked by your boyfriend.”

It’s so much to focus on - the snapping of his pelvis against yours, the feeling of his cock filling you up so completely, the sensations spreading out from your neck. You’re sinking into the mattress, clinging to Tom’s shoulders, your eyelids fluttering shut as you feel your orgasm near.

“Looks so fucking pretty like this-” He’s muttering, close himself. His fingers on your neck are hot and slippery with sweat, but he’s still in control. Tom darts down, dropping his head until he’s able to kiss along your jaw, rasping into your ear a low, “G’nna cum for me, angel? With my hand around your throat?” When you whimper, the sound pitched high, he chuckles. “Do it, lovie. Let me feel how much you love me being in control.”

Your eyes roll back as you follow his request a few moments later, spasming over the sheets. His touch keeps you in place, and you’re moaning loudly as Tom fucks you harder, chasing his own release and spilling into you with a loud grunt of your name. His hand loosens on your neck, leaving completely to fist the sheets beside your head as he slows down, his face the picture of blissed exhaustion as both of you recover. You gasp for breath, your lungs flooding with deep inhalations of oxygen, and there’s a lightness in your chest that makes you smile lazily.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, realising you’ve spaced out a little. Tom’s now beside you on the mattress, looking at you with concern in his gaze.

“Mm?”

“C’mere.” Tom reaches out for you, and you roll onto your side as he pulls you in closer. Your head goes to rest in the crook of his arm, and one of his hands rolls over your cheek. You sigh softly as the scent of his cologne drifts up your nose, and sink further into him as he leaves a series of gentle kisses to your temple. “Are you okay?”

You hum, reaching out to rest a hand on Tom’s stomach. He immediately links your fingers together, and you smile against him as he rolls his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Yeah.” Your voice comes out slightly strained, and your throat aches, causing you to giggle. “I can definitely feel it.”

Tom chuckles, moving his other hand over your waist. With each repetition of the movement, you feel more relaxed, basking in his body heat.

“I didn’t ever think you’d be into that,” he admits, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You feel the warm rush of shy embarrassment fill you, and burrow your head further into his side. “Shut up,” you whine.

“It’s cute.”

You peer up at him, narrowing your eyes. “Cute?”

Tom hums. He dives down to kiss you, lips warm against yours as he spends a few moments caressing your mouth with his. “Yes,” he whispers. “Means you trust me to do it to you.” His mouth leaves yours when he smirks. “And also means you’re kinky, which is cute.”

You scrunch your nose up. “Don’t act like I’m the only one that enjoyed it,” you respond. You arch an eyebrow. “I know it got you off, too.”

Tom’s cheeks fill with a darker hue, and he hums. He kisses you again, before wrapping you up in his arms and holding you tighter.

“Yeah,” he admits, mumbling against your hairline. “It was bloody hot.”

#fun fact i acted this out on myself and my throat is still aching...pls appreciate my dedication to the art hgdhgfhdgf #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #myblurbs #tomblurbs #mob!tomfic #mob!tomblurbs #chloecreatesfictions #smut #tom.filth

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kimageddon · 2 years ago

Text

A Prince of Dathomir - Chapter 94

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Slight Canon Divergence - Prince of Dathomir Masterlist

Word count: Approx 4900

Contains/Warnings: Mentions of a knife, risky behaviour, mentions of death

Chapter Summary: Zaiya gets a call about some "visitors" and prepares with the Clones and the Jedi.

Notes: Just a reminder I am open for questions, if you have any about my process, the characters, the story, I am amassing questions for chapter 100 Q & A special. So if you have a question to be featured in the Q&A, leave it in the comments!

(More notes at the end)

Invasion - Part 2

It was a small gathering in the mess hall, many of her ARC troopers, their trainers and even the “Bad Batch” had run late with their training that day, in an effort to keep that annoying sensation from blaring in the back of her mind. What could she do about it? Escape? Leave the clones to their fates? Even if she wanted to… Maul was not yet ready, he could take a few steps though it was painful and his legs were not used to the weight of his own body. Zaiya had begun to think that perhaps they ought to go… but the bacta tank was still essential in the last figurative steps in his healing. She dare not jeopardise what had taken so damn long.

She was currently not eating, nor was she even reading reports... Instead she was distractedly staring at the knife she held, lightly tapping it on the table as she contemplated the next day’s regime.

Out of an old habit, she laid her opposite hand flat, and tapped the knife lightly, first on the table next to her thumb, then the gap between her thumb and forefinger. Then the spot by her thumb again. Then between her index and middle finger, and back to the first location. She continued, between the gap in the next two fingers, alternating that starting point then the gaps between fingers, working her way around, then reversing direction and coming back, the rhythmic tapping between each of her long gloved fingers.

An idle movement, one she used as a backdrop to organise her thoughts. She would have to say goodbye soon. Would she even still be able to speak with them once she had left? Hopefully simply resigning would not add too many complications, though keeping her old codes and comm channels would not be possible. She also was unsure if they would be able to reach out to civilian channels with security being incredibly important. Perhaps some kind of work around would be--

“What’re ya doin’?” asked a soft voice. Her movements paused, her hand holding the knife hovered in the air as she looked down the table. Most of the men were staring at her and she had to wonder how long they had been doing that. The one that spoke was Wrecker, his voice softer, more tired sounding, but his eyes still displayed such curiosity.

“Hm?” she questioned, then realised he was looking at the knife, “Oh, it’s a game and old friend taught me,” she explained, remembering how Hondo had grinned and encouraged her when she practised when she was younger. “It keeps my hands busy while my mind works.”

“Was the humming part of it?” Havoc asked and she frowned slightly.

“I was humming?” He nodded and Zaiya sighed, she must be more distracted than she’d thought. “It must have been the song he taught me, it’s stupid.”

“Show us…?” Wrecker prodded, leaning on his hands, elbows on the table, his eyes bright and gleaming with interest, his tiredness gone. Zaiya chuckled, well there was no saying no to that face. She shifted in her seat to turn toward them and began showing off her movements slowly, tapping the knife between her fingers again.

��It’s usually a drinking game,” she began, “there’s different levels to it, and sometimes you can get others to play. This knife isn’t all that dangerous but you’re supposed to play with a sharp blade.” She smirked and the speed picked up to a faster rhythmic beat. She sang along to the sound, recalling the silly song Hondo had taught her.

“There is an old tradition, a game we all can play

You start by getting liquored up and sharpening your blade

You take a shot of whiskey, you grab your knife and pray

And spread apart your fingers, and this is what you say;

Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop

If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off

And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out

But all the same, I play this game 'cause that's what it's all about,” It was the simplest version of the song, and she knew different versions and even a version in multiple languages but this was the first iteration she had learned. As she sang both the song and her movements became faster.

“No, you can't use a pencil, you cannot use a pen

The only way is with a knife when danger is your friend

And some may call it stupid, some may call it dumb

But all the same, we play this game because it's so damn fun,

Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop

If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off

And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out

But all the same, I play this game 'cause that's what it's all about,” This time she was much faster, her knife hand darting back and forth as a grin formed on her lips.

“Oh, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, I'm picking up the speed

And if I hit my fingers, then my hand will start to bleed--” At the last line she stopped and held up her gloved hand.

“You could hardly do any damage with that little thing,” Crosshair drawled. She looked up, suddenly feeling a challenge in his words.

“Oh yeah? Should I up the ante?” she smirked and he just snorted.

“Make it actually dangerous and you might convince me,” he replied.

“In that case--” she beckoned him with one finger to come over and his smug look faded. The other ARCs chuckled and ribbed each other, thinking he was in trouble. Zaiya just smiled. “Hunter, can I borrow your blade?” she asked the cadet now sporting a red headband.

Over the last few months he’d been growing his hair out and it had become a bit longer than most others. He seemed unsure but reached to his belt and handed over the larger and much sharper hunting knife. Her own blades were too large but this was perfect.

Crosshair approached as she took the knife and tugged her glove off with her teeth. She could stomach seeing her hands for a little while. Crosshair’s dark eyes lingered on the pale skin and dark tattooed flesh, and she gestured to the table. After a moment he removed his own gloves.

“Go on,” she urged, he hesitated, his gaze shifting to her face and she arched a pale brow. “Do you trust me?” she asked. Crosshair almost immediately placed his palm flat on the table, his fingers spread. Zaiya laid her hand atop his, skin to skin and brought up the knife. There was an almost tangible tension in the room as she began the same tapping between fingers with the blade.

Back and forth, humming the little tune as she did so. Her cool hand pressed firmly to the back of the sniper’s, he crowded her back, the reach of his arm had him practically caging her and he leaned over her, his head right above her own.

The movements became faster. Her knife hand picking up speed, becoming a blur, if she hit their hands now it would do some damage. Crosshair seemed to tense behind her and she leaned back slightly… though it only seemed to make him tense more. Did he really have such little faith in her skills? Cheering from the others became louder and they seemed to enjoy the rather reckless behaviour of their Lieutenant-General.

“You seem to have confidence in your skills,” Crosshair said right into her ear. His voice was husky and low, his hot breath fanned her ear and jaw. Zaiya turned her head smoothly, making direct eye contact with him, but the knife tapping continued. The cheering faded into a tense silence, she wasn’t even looking at the knife!

“I would think, considering I am a trainer of the greatest army in Republic history, I would have to be,” she replied with a smirk.

“Now you’re just showing off,” he snorted, but didn’t move, his gaze flicking between her and the blade.

“How callow of me. It’s not like you would lower yourself in such a disgraceful way.” A wry grin crossed her lips. Though Crosshair stared at her, his face unreadable, the Force rippled around him and his body heat was almost as warm as a certain someone else she knew.

The knife continued in its tapping, the sound growing steadily faster. She turned her attention back to the others and looked to Alpha who was looking back at her with a funny little frown she couldn’t quite decipher.

The tension mounted and grew, her knife-hand now a blur. Crosshair’s breathing was growing a little heavier in her ear and there was something in the air she couldn't quite name. The other clones watched her. Would she slip up? Would she drive the blade into both her and the sniper’s exposed hands? How long could she--

A loud trilling interrupted the moment and the tension broke. It was her commlink. A cacophony of groans of disappointment echoed from the clones and she was sure she heard Crosshair curse quietly. His hand lingered only until she withdrew hers, and she quickly replaced her glove as she stood.

“Duty calls.” Zaiya shrugged, stepping away to take the call. “Go ahead” she said, as the holo burst to life, a small image of a Clone appeared. “Rex old boy!” she chirped pleasantly, the greeting a little joke he usually liked, though her smile faded on seeing his face. She was struck with a familiar feeling.

“Ver’alor, I’m giving you a heads up, the Generals will be in contact with Kamino soon but…” Zaiya didn’t have a good feeling. “We intercepted a communication between General Grievous and the assassin Asajj Ventress. They’re readying for a second attempt to invade Kamino. We suspect their targets are the barracks and the DNA room.” The Nightsister’s heart was in her throat. Another invasion? This time there would be no pitiful attempt, this was the might of the Separatist fleet if Grievous was spearheading the campaign. Her full lips formed a thin line.

“I assume you’re coming as backup?” she asked quietly, a weight seemed to press down at her.

“Yes, the 501st and the 212th are on their way, we expect things to kick on in the next rotation. Strictly speaking I’m not meant to be warning you outside the official channels, but I heard about what happened last time so here’s hoping the extra time will make your defence even more effective.” Rex explained and she nodded, she appreciated the warning.

“Thank you Captain. Leave it to me, I look forward to seeing you again.”

“If only it were under better circumstances.” He mirrored her sentiment and she nodded.

“I’ll take what I can get.” She signed off and paused a moment, the sound of her troopers talking faded behind her and she heard footsteps. She turned to see them all staring at her with curious expressions that began to morph into worry on seeing hers.

“What is it?” Alpha asked, his steps being the ones she heard. He stood only a few feet away.

“General Grievous and Asajj Ventress are en route in an attempt to invade Kamino. They’re coming here,” she replied bluntly, she was hardly going to lie to them.

It felt as though all the air was sucked from the room and every face became deathly serious. Alpha spoke first.

“How long have we got?”

“Well, more than ten minutes this time.” She smiled humourlessly. “About one rotation, the boys from the 501st and 212th are already enroute, I should think the Kaminii are being notified as we speak--” As if on cue, the lights dimmed in the mess hall and Zaiya’s, Alphas and the other trainer’s comms all chirped. A message began to play from speakers throughout the facility.

[This is a Level One Lockdown. Please remain calm. All Commanding Officers to report to Hangar 17B for briefing. All other personnel return to your barracks and await instructions. Repeat: This is a Level One Lockdown…] The message repeated and Zaiya looked back at her Troopers.

“Alright lads you heard it, I want you to be on alert, as the ARCs, you will be leading security, the rest of the trainers will be receiving instructions on where you will be placed. Head back, wash if you need to and suit up. Understood?” she called in an authoritative voice.

“Sir, yes sir!” they called back in unison, saluting her.

“Dismissed!” She gestured for the trainers to follow and Alpha quickly met her at her side as she walked.

“What about us?” Wrecker called and she paused, turning back to look at him. They were still cadets, not having yet seen action, and not a part of the ARC program.

“Stay in your barracks for now--” they looked like they wanted to protest but she held up a hand to silence them. “That is an order! I will give you more information as I have it, let me get all the information first.” With that she turned away, her red sash fluttering dramatically with the movement.

She caught up with Alpha who handed her a datapad, the information being relayed to her device in real time on the information the Jedi had provided. It was much similar to what Rex had told her.

“Let’s hope your security measures hold against the Separatists,” she said to him quietly. It was Alpha himself that had put together most of the security protocols after the last invasion, and he had been implementing much of them since he had been back. She trusted his due diligence, but against Asajj and Grievous, any system would be tested.

“Maybe I’ll get a chance to pay that harpy back…” Alpha sneered. Zaiya chuckled.

“If I find her first… I’ll hold her down for you.” The smirk on his lips was a cruel one as they headed to the Hangar.

----

The briefing was indeed brief, relaying all the information and putting Alpha’s protocols in place. The dreadnought carrying both Kenobi’s and Skywalker’s battalions arrived shortly after the meeting concluded. Zaiya and Alpha followed General Shaak Ti and Prime Minister Lama Su to greet them.

“You seem to be rather organised,” Kenobi said smoothly to his fellow Jedi Master.

“That would be thanks to the Lieutenant-General and ARC Captain,” Shaak Ti said with a sweeping gesture of her hand. “I believe you have met?”

“We’re acquainted.” Zaiya said abruptly. “What more information do you have on the Separatist attack, Generals?” She looked between Kenobi and Skywalker impassively.

“I do not understand how the Separatists think they can possibly get past the Republic blockade,” Lama Su interrupted. “How could they dare.”

“In my opinion the Separatists have as much audacity as they do droids,” Skywalker replied with a frown, he looked to Zaiya to answer her question. “We believe they will attempt to break the lines of the fleet in orbit, but I would not be too worried. There’s no way they can get past our dreadnoughts.” He flashed her a charming smile and she was only reminded just how young he was. He was practically a child.

“Be that as it may, I have everyone on security patrol and all training suspended. The cadets not ready for battle have all been moved to secure locations and far away from any strategic points of interest.” Zaiya reported calmly, meeting the Jedi’s eyes with a level gaze. “Captain Alpha’s security protocols already have the DNA room and the barracks under heavy protection. After the last attempt, we surmised that the targets would be to cripple the Republic Army as a whole, we have taken every precaution.”

“That’s very studious of you,” Obi-Wan said approvingly. Zaiya had the sudden urge to gag him with a spoon.

“We take the security of these soldiers very seriously,” she replied flatly. There was an uncomfortable silence as she stared him down.

“Hopefully it will not come to that,” Shaak Ti finally intervened in her usual warm tone.

“That is always the hope, but we will not be caught unawares this time.” Zaiya nodded and looked back at the red-skinned togruta. Shaak Ti gave her an appraising look and Zaiya felt her shoulders tense. Was she suggesting something with that look? That Zaiya seemed to know ahead of time about the attack? It was settled, wasn't it?

It would only be a few weeks and it wouldn’t matter, the Nightsister supposed. For now she just had to worry about the task at hand.

“I suggest we convene in the control room in one hour after Masters’ Kenobi and Skywalker’s troops have disembarked and prepared,” Shaak Ti suggested.

“Excellent idea, the Captain and I will run one more sweep and ensure the men are ready. Might Captain Rex and Commander Cody join us? I favour their opinions.” Zaiya nodded then looked back to the newly arrived Jedi. Their respective second in commands had approached and were standing just to the side of their Generals. The Jedi looked at each other then at the clones in question and nodded. Zaiya turned away and had the three clones follow, catching Skywalker’s comment;

“I forgot how intense she can be.” Zaiya assumed she was not meant to hear it, but rolled her eyes, feeling their eyes at her back. She didn’t need their approval, she just needed to keep the clones alive.

----

It was on the tour that she relaxed a little, and Alpha noticed.

“You really don’t like Jedi, do you?” he asked, as the group moved down the corridor.

“They’re creepy,” she replied, not looking at him, but ahead where she noticed another group of familiar figures.

“How so?” Cody asked with a chuckle.

“They sneak up on you, walk without making noise, speak cryptically and disappear and appear with no warning…” Zaiya grumbled with a roll of her eyes.

“You walk like that.” Alpha asked with an arched brow and a flat tone. “Not to mention you have that weird… predator thing going on.”

“Exactly. It’s weird to see anyone beyond my Sisters doing such things,” she huffed. The men around her laughed and she rolled her eyes. They were tense, and nervous for the coming attack, she had to do something to break that tension.

The men ahead were ones she recognised and her expression brightened.

“Ninety-Nine! How is the security in sector seven?” she checked in, though she noticed the sorrowful expression, and her smile dropped. In his hand he held a very familiar medal. The medal all cadets were given upon graduation. One Ninety-Nine had not been given. She looked between it, and the other two men.

She recognised them as Echo and Fives of Domino squad and they were in the telltale 501st blues. She remembered their training with her for a week before they took their final test. How clever Fives was, how shy Echo had been. CT-4040, who had taken the name Cutup was always so funny, he and Droidbait were always cracking jokes or attempting to butter her up. And of course Hevy, strong willed and rash but full of heart.

It was a proud day when she had seen them graduate, having seen them overcome far more than most batches to unite together-- but as she looked between the medal -Hevy’s medal- Ninety-Nine’s face and the sombre expressions on Fives and Echo’s faces… she put it together. There was a feeling in the Force from Commander Cody and Captain Rex and she turned, unable to help the waver in her voice as she asked.

“What happened?”

“There was an incident, droids invaded the Rishi Moon,” Rex began.

“It was our first assignment,” Fives added, “we did our best to hold them off, but they overran the base, Droidbait was killed in the first wave. Cutup, Echo, Hevy and I were the only ones out… but one of the giant eels… they got Cutup.”

“Captain Rex and Commander Cody were able to help us get back in, we used a droid head--” Echo started but the story was sounding familiar.

“Is this the incident where you shot the droid wearing clone armour and scared Cody to death?” she asked bluntly. Rex gave a sheepish expression as she looked at him and he nodded. “You didn’t tell me about the Domino squad,” she frowned.

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” Rex replied, glancing down in shame. She recalled the rest from a previous conversation, they’d retaken the base and alerted the Republic fleet by destroying the base but--

“So the last soldier…” she realised. “The one that blew up the base…?”

“It was Hevy,” Fived provided. For a moment, her face became stricken. Pained and guilt-ridden. She had not dropped her guard this much in a long time and had not been expecting the blow. It hurt, it hurt far more than she expected. A second later the expression was gone, she closed her eyes and took a breath. She was not going to let them down now. Her expression hardened and she let out the breath, becoming Ver’alor once again.

“Hevy was a brilliant soldier, he saved his brothers and did all he could to protect his family, we can ask no more of him and in whatever realm he has passed into, may peace find them,” she said in a low and respectful tone.

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la,” Alpha added, his head bowed. The rest of the group repeated the phrase, Zaiya with them.

----

In a small laboratory, far from the bustle of the soldiers preparing for battle, awaited another warrior, his brow furrowed. He sat in a meditation pose, and was all but still and calm, save for the deep scowl on his features. His hands balled into fists and there was a slight twitching of his cheek. Anger and rage swirled around him, and he fought to keep it contained.

He could feel it. His enemy was here!

Maul’s yellow and bloodshot eyes snapped open and he let out an animalistic growl. This was infuriating! Humiliating! Kenobi was here! On Kamino! Right then --and Maul was here in this lab. Stuck here, waiting.

He knew he could not be rash. He had to be patient. He could not even walk properly! To be so close, to finally find the man --the filth that had robbed him of his destiny, his limbs and nearly his life! That had taken so much! The power and prestige, the greatness he had been promised! Then of course there were the little things… The time. The years he had missed, seeing his brothers, his home… time with Zaiya. All of it was taken from him, robbed.

He was flung into a pit like trash and Zaiya was taken Fanged God only knew where and tortured, hurt and… she was different when he saw her again. Her eye had not healed properly, the skin was still ragged and dark from the burn. He couldn’t save her, he hadn’t been able to. Because of Kenobi.

The smug preening filthy Jedi rat!

The anger boiled in Maul’s chest. He could not sit and wait. He had to do something. He could not remain still! Forcing himself to the edge of the medical cot, he unhooked himself from the wires and sensors. Zaiya had been attentive in her duties, despite his concern for her weakness for this place. She had left him water and food, not that the meals were of particular substance. His Lieutenant had promised him a rich meal when they finally left this place and the thought dampened his rage only slightly. It did not, however, dampen his determination, and only made it stronger.

One bare red foot touched the freezing floor of the laboratory. His teeth grit. He would no longer be confined to this place. His patience could only take so much. No matter her predilection for this place or the unfortunately destined clones, he was her Lord. If he commanded her, she would obey.

He focused his rage, his hate and his persistence… and slowly rose to his feet. Something was going on out there, and he would not be left unprepared.

----

A further sweep of Tipoca City had been carried out and Zaiya now stood with her Captains Alpha, Havoc, Colt, Rex and Commander Cody in the control room. They knew where they would be stationed in the event of a breach. Zaiya had insisted to the Jedi that the men be on standby, guarding the two suspected target points preemptively.

It was here that Kenobi actually backed her, while Skywalker was far too relaxed about the whole thing. He insisted that when he met Grievous in the battle above the planet, that everything would be over quickly. He really was a boy, his age showing in moments like this. Then again, she looked at the young faces of the men around her, most of the clones looked about the same age as the 19 year old Anakin Skywalker. Practically children! Alpha appeared the most wizened of them, though it may have just been the scars.

Though not the first time she had faced this situation, she was not being permitted to meet them in battle. She was under strict instruction to remain in the control room. It burned in her to remain still. That was where she and Maul had yet another commonality.

She listened to the chatter, her eyes on the ground, keeping to one point as she ran over all the information in her head once more time. No mistakes. Her attention was pulled away briefly when Skywalker announced he was heading to the hangar. He was to face the Separatists in battle, making Zaiya even more annoyed at having to stay put. Something about coordination or her ‘insight’. She didn’t believe it for a second. They wanted to keep an eye on her… though she wasn’t sure why.

Several minutes later Skywalker's voice crackled through the comms.

[Grievous has come out of hyperspace, we are set to engage,] he said almost flippantly. Zaiya didn’t like it, everything seemed too simple.

“I don’t like it,” Kenobi said quietly, his fingers stroking his beard. “It’s too easy.” Zaiya’s eyes narrowed.

“For once I agree.” The Nightsister managed to suppress the curl of her tattooed upper lip. “This seems too reckless even for that walking scrap-pile.”

“Look,” he said with a frown, his hand directed them to the hologram depicting the battle in space above them. Pieces of metal were shown falling from the ships being shot down. Alarms were blaring, warning of falling debris, and Zaiya’s eyes narrowed.

“The falling ships are the key…” she whispered, leaning in close to the hologram, as though it might reveal more details to her.

“What are you thinking?” Shaak Ti asked, turning to her. Kenobi spoke up before she had the chance to answer.

“I’m going down there, keep watch here and be alert.” With that, the Jedi turned and walked off quickly. Zaiya rolled her eyes. After a beat, she turned back to the clones.

“I have a bad feeling about this, I want you all to move to your stations, prep your weapons and your men. If it goes, it’ll go downhill fast.” The men nodded and Alpha placed a hand on her shoulder in support. She nodded to his silent question, “I’ll be out with you as soon as I can.” Whatever it took, she would not be stuck here while the men had to defend their home. Once she had the report from Kenobi, she would meet with the others. She would defend their home by their sides.

“You seem to have a thought on this,” Shaak Ti said, interrupting Zaiya’s mental monologue.

“Kenobi is correct.” As much as it pained her to say so. “They will come.”

It was some time later when they heard Kenobi report in, his discussion with Skywalker heard through the comms.

[Only you would be worried about the ships I’ve already shot down,] Skywalker preened and Zaiya rolled her eyes.

“Wait a minute…” Kenobi interjected.

“What are you seeing?” Zaiya called, urgency building in her chest.

“Aqua droids…” It was a whisper and Zaiya’s eyes widened. “We were right, Lady Siren! The Separatists are assembling droids from the fallen craft! They’re coming!”

“We’re ready for them!” Zaiya replied and stepped back from the console. She looked to Shaak Ti. “You are more than enough for coordination, we’ve done this before. I’m standing with the men.” She was not asking permission. Shaak Ti’s black eyes looked into Zaiya’s, and she nodded.

“As you must.” Zaiya left with a grateful nod and fled the room swiftly, she was moving to the DNA room to stand with Alpha, his Company and the Bad Batch. The rest were ready to protect the barracks and passages to the safe havens where the cadets were holed up.

“Get ready boys, the party is coming to us,” Zaiya called into the comm. As she raced down the hall, the entire facility shook.

They were here.

Notes: Hello lovelies! Thank you for joining me for another episode of Zaiya sasses people. D'you think she and Kenobi can be friends? Hmmmmm…. Maybe, maybe not.

I have powered on the last two weeks writing Sins of the Father to get ahead of my posting schedule, now it's time I really crack on with APOD so I don't have to take a break. I really don't want to. Apologies for the late posting of this chapter, yesterday was pretty intense for me and I went to bed early without prepping this chapter. Hopefully its interesting enough for you to forgive me.

As always thank you thank you for your wonderful comments, feedback and the occasional fanart! (All art is on my Tumblr - same username) I really love all the comments, it really helps keep me engaged and motivated, and I love love love knowing your thoughts on the story so far! Next week we'll get into the Invasion proper, and in Mistakes Part 1, there is gonna be some painful events and some loss. :( It's gonna hurt.

Until next week! I hope you are all well <3

----

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#darth maul fic #darth maul #star wars #a prince of dathomir #maul x oc #maul #nightsister oc #darth maul x oc #maul fic #lord maul #maul opress #zaiya valessa #kamino #asajj ventress #general grievous

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

Text

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year.

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long.

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!

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saxxxology · 4 years ago

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Keep it Cool (oneshot)

The air conditioning in the bunker goes out, and Sam’s choice of cool clothing is nothing but a distraction to you.

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: smut and all the deliciousness that comes with it NOTE: This fic was originally co-written with @kittenofdoomage. It is also 18+ only. Do not save or repost my work without my consent.

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The air conditioning in the bunker sucked. Being underground, the place usually stayed colder, enough that in the winter you had to get the heater working, but for some reason, the summer heat had infected every single room. All you could do was put on deodorant, get the fans going, and stock up on ice water.

Dean was good at staying cool, proudly displaying his glorious bowlegs as he ambled around in just a pair of boxers and a tee shirt. Sam, on the other hand, had a much more interesting alternative to staying cool.

Walking around shirtless in just a ratty pair of gray sweatpants was his way of keeping the heat off, which did absolutely nothing to help your own temperature regulation.

You were in the kitchen, trying to fix yet another a fan you’d found in the basement and wearing nothing but a baggy tee shirt and cotton panties when Sam strolled in, those damn sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was sweating like a pig, and you watched as he grabbed a bottle of ice water from the fridge and tilted his head back to down almost half of it in four long, deep gulps. He poured the rest over the back of his neck and shoulders, not caring as it splattered to the concrete floor.

“How in the hell can you exercise in this?” You asked, watching as the wind from the fan already on the table blew his hair back. “It’s almost ninety in here, Sam.”

“Gotta keep in shape,” he replied simply, “routine is everything.”

“Routine can go fuck itself when it’s this hot,” you returned. “You could get heatstroke.”

He shrugged and pulled the waistband of his sweats up, which did nothing as they simply sagged back down around the V in his hips. “I know my limits,” he said. “What are you up to?”

“Trying to fix this fan,” you muttered irritably, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his back flexed as he pulled a hairband from around his wrist and swept his long, coppery locks into a knot on top of his head. “Got all the dust out of it, now I just have to get it working.”

“Need help?” He ran a palm over the four-day stubble on his jaw. “I got time on my hands.”

You swallowed thickly and shook your head. The last thing you needed was Sam distracting you. “No thanks… it won’t take long.”

Sam offered a kind smile that was quickly betrayed by the twinkle in his eye. “‘Kay then. Call me if you need anything.”

An hour later and you still hadn’t got the damn thing to work. Sam wandered back into the kitchen as you—still not wearing any pants—called it names. He smirked at your indignation with the technology and leaned on the table once again, those powerful biceps now only a foot away from your face.

“You sure you don’t need help?”

The fan had you in a mood already, and Sam’s playful little smirk just rubbed you the wrong way. “Fuck you,” you mumbled, glaring at the failed project on the table.

Sam rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight, just enough that you could see the thick length of his dick hidden beneath the thin, gray fabric of his sweats. He was all sweaty and shiny and perfect; you could smell the musk seeping from every pore.

“Well, I said I’d help,” he replied and your back went straight. “You look like you could relax a little.”

It seemed like all of the oxygen went out of the room as you turned to him, taking in the lewd smirk on his face. He was looking at you with lidded eyes, giving them the impression of total blackness and a shiver ran down your spine, pooling into your core with an unbearable heat. He’d never been like this in all the years you’d known him; the sweet, soft-eyed Sam you knew was gone within seconds, replaced by a feral, lust-filled man that was this close to fucking you silly.

You inhaled sharply, trying not to let him get the better of you. Sure, a good, dirty fuck sounded incredible, especially with a man like Sam, but the two of you were supposed to be just friends...

He shifted and you swallowed, lifting you head when he stood straight. God, he managed to make the room look smaller when he stood his full height, all flexing muscles and tanned skin.

“When do you get time to sunbathe?” you blurted out, nerves forcing your brain into the wrong gear entirely.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “That’s where you went with that?”

“Sorry.” Your cheeks burned out of pure shame as you stood up and walked to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “It’s just… you’re really tanned and it’s distracting.”

“Am I?” He looked down at his bare chest, purposefully rolling his shoulders to show off the wide, muscular expanse of his chest, and you moaned without restraint. Sam was smirking again when he looked up, eyeing you hungrily. “You’re really tense, Y/N,” he murmured, stepping a little bit closer.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Sam?” you asked, horrified at how girly and wispy your voice sounded.

Sam laughed, backing you against the table, only inches separating you. “Is it working?”

You shivered as the heat of his skin filled the space between your bodies. His scent was intoxicating, the sweet, honey-like perfume clouding every breath you took until you were literally breathing Sam in. You whined, almost stomping your foot at how infuriatingly seductive this God of a man was.

“Yeah,” you whimpered, “yeah, it is.”

His fingers grazed your cheek, and just like that you were gone. You stretched up, practically begging him to kiss you, and he obliged without hesitation. His lips were full and warm, and his stubble was delightfully scratchy. His hands promptly slid down your back to grab handfuls of your ass, and you gasped when he pulled you flush against him. The thick line of his cock pressed against your belly, held back only by the thin fabric of his sweats. His index fingers slid down between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric covering your pussy.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, “could just slide right up inside you, huh?” An indiscernible sound left your mouth. Grinning wickedly, Sam took your hand, guiding it to his cock, and you squeezed through the cloth, feeling him twitch in your fingertips. “Come here, baby girl.”

You gasped as he hauled you off the floor and slung you easily over his shoulder. Long strides carried you swiftly down the hallway, reaching his room in no time at all, and the second the door was locked he dumped you on the bed, crawling on top of you and watching your thighs press together in an effort to seek relief. He took advantage of your positioning to hood his fingers in your panties, pulling them down and tossing them off the edge of the bed. You eagerly stripped off your shirt, feeling cool air from the single fan on the nightstand wash over your sweat-dotted skin, and Sam growled at the sight of your pert nipples, practically begging to be sucked on.

“Sam, please,” you whimpered, reaching for him.

“Ah ah ah,” he teased, “not yet. I want you to see what I’ve been doing while I think about you.”

You moaned when he rolled to lie on his back beside you, slowly pushing his sweats down until his cock sprang free. He was huge, the tip almost reaching his navel, and if anything, your pussy only grew wetter thinking about what he’d look like stretching your walls out.

“Fuck,” you breathed, reaching out to try and touch him. Sam took your hand and guided it down between your own legs.

“If you need to touch something, touch yourself,” he directed with a dark smirk. “Hands off until I say so.”

You obeyed, watching him grip the base of his dick in one hand while massaging the shaft with the other, long up-and-down strokes causing the muscles in his forearm to flex deliciously. He let out a sharp huff and groaned, his lips parted as his back arched off the bed. “Shit,” he panted, turning his head to kiss you, “touch yourself, baby, show me how needy you are.”

Again, you obeyed, rolling your clit under your middle and index fingers as Sam stroked himself. A bread of clear precum dripped from his slit, falling in a thin, clear strand down to land on the smooth skin of his lower belly. He pumped himself harder, spreading his legs and bending his knees so he could thrust up into his grip.

“I bet your pussy’s better than this,” he muttered, chest heaving with exertion, “look at what you do to me, baby, you’re such a fuckin’ turn-on.”

You moaned louder, keeping your fingers working on your clit as Sam bucked his hips up. “Sam…”

“Lemme taste you,” he said breathlessly, reaching for your hand and pulling it from between your legs. He greedily sucked your fingers between his lips and sighed, sliding his tongue across the slick pads of your fingers, moaning at the taste. “God,” he gasped once he’d gotten as much as he could, “come here.”

Sam hauled you into his lap, arranging your legs on either side of his hips. His cock pressed at your entrance, and without even a consideration of birth control, you rolled your hips, letting the thick, warm head of him slide inside.

A gutteral shout left his lips, and you felt him throb excitedly as you sank down even more. Sam pressed his shaking fingers into your waist, holding you as you started to ride… or tried to. You’d never ridden anyone so long, so thick, and you found that it was more difficult to keep him inside you than you thought as your inner muscles clenched and pushed around him. He made it easier by holding his cock at your entrance as you adjusted, your arousal aiding you as you slid down even more until you could practically feel him in your belly, but even then, he was just so big.

“Thatta girl,” he urged, staring up at you. His bun had come partially undone, and strands of hair were stick to his forehead and neck, the combination of that with his scruff utterly mouthwatering. He craned his neck up, wrapping his lips around one pert little nipple, and you cried out as his teeth scraped the soft flesh of your breast.

“Sam, I can’t,” you shook your head, inhaling sharply when he throbbed again, “you’re too big, you need to—”

Your words choked off into a loud scream as Sam wrapped his arms around you, pulled you down until he was crushing you against his chest, and started thrusting madly into you. The thick, heavy heat of him repeatedly punching into your cunt was more than you could handle, and your next breath was ragged with pleasure. Sam held you tightly as you writhed against him, his own growls and grunts matching yours in volume and intensity.

“That’s it,” he snarled, “that’s it, baby, take it all.”

He rolled, pushing you onto your back and holding himself over you. The angle of his cock changed, and you felt him slam into your sweet spot. Tears bloomed in your eyes, and Sam only chuckled between breathy groans as you held onto him for dear life.

“S-Sam,” you stammered, “fuck, I can’t take it—”

“Yeah, you can.” He pressed a sloppy, scratchy kiss to the side of your neck and tugged your hair, exposing your throat for him to lick and suck at.

The next cry of his name turned into a rough sob, and when his teeth caught the soft skin under your chin, you almost lost control. Sam only thrust faster, pressing his knees into the mattress in order to shove his entire weight forward. Your bodies were coated with sweat, and as a rush of heat bloomed between your thighs, you realized that he was making you squirt. He felt the rush of liquid, the sudden, frantic spasming of your pussy, and his forearm came up, landing on the mattress over your shoulder and caging you in underneath him.

“God, that’s fuckin’ nice,” he panted, staring down at you as his bony hips continued to slap against yours, “always thought you’d be a cute squirter.”

You shuddered and arched up, your breasts and stomach rubbing against Sam’s hot, firm skin. Your nails dug into his arms, and you cried out again when he gave another sharp thrust, forcing more slick to gush from your wrecked pussy.

“Yeah, look at that,” Sam nibbled at your jaw and resumed his brutal, animalistic pace, not caring as you clawed at his back and clenched your thighs around his waist. “Such a needy little cunt.”

You whimpered when he reached up to grab the headboard, his cock now impossibly deep inside you as he used the heavy wood as leverage. “Sam, p-please—”

“Please what?” He growled into your ear and practically crushed you beneath him, using his entire body to hold you down while he fucked you. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You choked on your next words as he shoved his cock in deep and held himself there. “I n-need to come…”

Sam smirked down at you, watching as your eyes rolled back in your head. He was so deep inside you he could feel your cervix against the tip of his cock. “Oh, baby, you don’t need to ask permission.”

He growled into your ear, the primal sound sending a bolt of arousal straight down to your core. His hips jerked as he steadily worked himself back to his rhythm, and you held onto his arms, your vision going white.

“Gonna come,” you gasped, “gonna come, Sam…”

Your mouth opened in a silent scream as your orgasm slammed into you, only made more intense by the second as Sam twisted his hips, grinding his body into yours so perfectly you felt like you were melting around him. You might as well have been; the room was already sweltering.

You were barely able to think straight as you came down from your climax. Sam was grunting like an animal, his hips bucking furiously as his cock swelled, throbbed, and poured into you. His cum dripped around the edges of his cock, sliding down the curve of your ass to pool underneath you.

No man you’d ever been with had come that much.

Finally, he fell away with a groan, his cock slipping from your folds. You felt the warm rush of his cum inside you and moaned at the feeling of it dripping out. Sam’s chest was heaving with exertion, and you heard him clear his throat.

“You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “So… that happened.”

You laughed at his sudden awkwardness. “It did. It was good.”

He looked at you. “It was?”

“You made me squirt,” you said, blushing. “I made a mess.”

“Uh, more like we made a mess,” Sam corrected you, rolling onto his side and looking down at the mess between your legs. “I’m gonna need new sheets.”

You giggled and ran your fingers over the scruff on his jaw. “And I’m gonna need an ice bath.”

Sam chuckled and trailed his lips over your jaw. “I might join you on that one.”

You were just about to deepen the kiss when a fist pounded on the door. In the minutes of your frantic coupling, you’d forgotten about the other inhabitant of the bunker.

“If you don’t mind,” Dean called grumpily, “you could keep it down next time!”

“Sorry!” You called back, grinning nevertheless as Sam slid an arm around your waist and pulled you close.

“You’re not sorry at all,” he teased, nuzzling your jaw with the tip of his perfect, pointy nose.

You shook your head and laughed as he kissed your neck. “Nope. Not one bit.”

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Maybe Everything Will Be Okay (Part 3)

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader

Genre: NSFW, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Overstimulation, Degradation

Summary: You are the ex-manager of Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team and Oikawa’s ex-girlfriend and now you’re about to get together with the 3rd years for the first time in 10 years. Will everything be okay?

Part 1, Part 2

The sound of birds chirping pecks away at your consciousness and you feel yourself stirring awake. But you feel warm and safe, so you nestle closer to the comforting heat embracing you, eyes still shut. A content purr rumbles out of you at the feel of fingers lightly drawing haphazard shapes in the dip of your waist….wait fingers??? Your eyes shoot open only to be immediately ensnared by chocolate brown eyes lazily gazing at you. “Morning, cutie.” You release an embarrassing squawk as you scramble to put some space between the now smirking brunette and you, but you’re tangled in the sheets and Oikawa hasn’t released his hold on you, so you remain rooted to your spot.

“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just wear my jersey, tease me all night, and then run away before I even get a taste.” Oikawa is pouting, but you see the mischievous spark in his eyes and you hate yourself for the way your thighs clench together as heat begins to pool in your stomach. You’re mortified that he knows you kept his old high school jersey and your mouth starts moving faster than your brain can comprehend as you desperately attempt to salvage your pride. “It doesn’t mean anything! It just happened to be comfortable and you know I like bigger shirts…” Your rambling is cute at first. Oikawa loves seeing you all flustered, especially when he’s the reason for it, but as you go on and on a streak of impatience furrows his brows and he gently silences you with his index finger pressed against your lips.

The feel of his finger in such an intimate place has you flushing, but it’s his determined look that has you clamping your mouth shut. Oikawa’s left hand props his head up, while his right hand moves to stroke your sleep mussed locks. “I regret how we ended things in high school. I was selfish and stubborn and worst of all, I took you for granted. If I’m honest, volleyball is still just as important to me and I can still be a stubborn idiot, but I want to give us a chance again if you’ll let me. I’m not promising it’ll be perfect and we’ll still probably have arguments, but I can promise that I’m going to give it my all and try my best to make you happy, to be there for you when you need me, and to meet you in the middle when we do disagree.”

A tentative tendril of hope ascends within you, but it’s tangled with the strings of insecurity wrapped around your heart. “Why me? You must have waves of girls who want you, a handsome, charming, pro-athlete.” Your voice cracks and you try to turn your face away to hide the tears threatening to fall, but a firm grip on your chin forces you to stare into Oikawa’s steely gaze. “None of them know me like you do. All they see is an attractive athlete who’s all smiles on camera. They weren’t there at every single physical therapy session I had to go to for my knee. They weren’t there when I was a strung out, depressed mess after we lost to Karasuno and lost any chance we had at going to Nationals. But you were. You were always there, supporting me, cheering me on, and caring for me.” And with those words, the tears begin to stream down your face and Oikawa panickedly wipes them away, frantically apologizing for upsetting you. But you square your shoulders and grab his hands in yours as you send a watery smile his way. “It’s always been just you for me too. You were selfish and stubborn, but I was stubborn too. Tooru, you were also always there for me. You brought me milk bread whenever I was feeling down and wouldn’t leave my side until I was laughing with you. You protected me from your jealous fangirls and from other volleyball players who tried to sexually harass me. And sure, you were busy with volleyball, but when we were together, I knew I had 100% of you. No one has even tried to know me as thoroughly as you did and no one has loved me the same way you did, so yes, that’s my long-winded way of saying I want to give us a chance again too.”

No sooner had those last words left your mouth before Oikawa is fiercely kissing you and clutching you tightly to his body. “You’re mine and I’m yours,” he growls. He rolls the two of you over, so that you are pinned beneath him on the bed as he cages your head between his arms, continuing his possessive attack on your lips. You hungrily reciprocate as your tongues fight for dominance and only pull apart when the need to breathe overtakes both of you. Arousal stirs within Oikawa as he stares at the pretty picture you make, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed over in lust, and your breasts rising and falling in time with your little pants of breath. “You’re okay with this, right? You’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?” A whimper escapes your mouth as you quickly nod, your pussy already dripping with anticipation for what he has in store for you. At your confirmation, Oikawa leans down until his mouth is right against your ear. He playfully bites your earlobe, smirking at your cute gasp. “Good because I have ten years of lost time to make up for.”

His mouth is trailing down your neck in a flurry of kisses and licks before he ends his journey by sucking a dark mark right above your collarbone. His hands are pushing up his jersey until your breasts are revealed and he groans at the sight of your nipples already hard and ready to be toyed with. His fingers skillfully roll one of your nipples while his tongue rapidly flicks the other and then he is sucking the sensitive nub while his hand twists and pulls the other. He continues his assault, alternating the actions between the two sides until you are moaning and begging him for more. “Ah- Tooru! Please, I need- oh- I need more!” He releases the nipple in his mouth with an obscene popping sound, but his hands still playfully flick the abused nubs. “I need you to be more specific than that, baby. What exactly do you want?” “My pussy! Please, my pussy needs attention!”

Oikawa pushes himself down the length of your body until his face is right in front of your dripping cunt. He spreads your legs, tossing them over his shoulders as he lightly blows on the sensitive area, smirking at your keening whine. He presses his face against you until his nose is gently nudging your clit and he takes a deep inhale. “Fuck, you smell just as good as I remember. Let’s see if you also taste as good.” And that’s the only warning you get before he is devouring you. You are wailing at this point, overwhelmed by everything you’re feeling. He’s mouthing at your outer lips, his tongue is moving and reaching so deep inside you it feels like he’s trying to lap all your essence up, and he’s making lewd slurping sounds as he ravages you. It’s too much and when he finally sucks on your clit, your body goes boneless and your eyes roll back as you release into his mouth.

Your body is still quivering from the orgasm, but Oikawa’s mouth does not relent. “Tooru, please, give me a second-” But that only has his mouth moving even more feverishly and you are forced to lie back, mouth open as you let out a string of broken moans. Only when you are in tears from the overstimulation does he let up a bit. “When I said I had 10 years to make up for, I meant it, Y/N. We’re not stopping until both of us literally can’t move anymore.” With that he slams two fingers into your drenched hole and you scream. “God, baby, you’re drenched. I barely have to prepare you. I think we can get to four fingers in no time.” His mouth returns to your clit, licking and sucking the overstimulated bud as he slips a third finger easily into your slick heat. There’s still a tinge of pain from being touched so soon after your climax, but there’s also a rising pressure of pleasure from Oikawa’s actions and you are thrusting your hips to match the pace of his fingers. Smirking at your desperation, Oikawa stills his hand and observes as you continue to shake your hips in an attempt to reach your peak again. “You’re such a fucking slut. My beautiful slut. Look at you riding my hand like a good girl. If you ask nicely, I might give you what you want.” “Tooru, please, I want to cum! Please let me cum. Please ram your fingers into me. I need more!” “Greedy girl. Well since you asked so nicely…” Oikawa is adding a fourth finger and you feel so stretched out. He’s still slowly curling his fingers, toying with the spongy spot that has your eyes rolling back in your head, but at the sound of your increased begging and chants for more, more, more, he relents and moves his hand at a brutal pace while sucking your clit with a vacuum-like grip until you reach your second high. You are a shaking, overstimulated mess and pride swells in Oikawa as he slows down his pace, but continues thrusting into your loosened hole, chuckling at your body’s tiny jerks that match his movements.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you and you turn a crimson red when you see how your juices have literally coated his long, slender digits. “Y/N, you made such a mess! Don’t you think you should help me clean it?” You obediently take his offered digits into your mouth, licking and sucking every inch until you’ve swallowed every last drop. He plants a gentle kiss on your lips as he finally takes off his boxers and his throbbing cock practically springs out of the confines. Your mouth waters at the thick globs of precum leaking from the tip. Oikawa’s always had a pretty cock in your opinion. It’s not especially thick, but it is long and perfectly shaped. Drool is dripping out of your mouth as you hungrily move to take it in your mouth, but a strong grip yanks you by the roots of your hair and stops you in your tracks. “Not today, sweetheart. I know you’re a hungry little cockslut, but today is all about you and I plan on putting this to good use in your pussy. Now lie back down and let me take care of you.”

You scramble backwards, practically throwing yourself back onto the bed. You’re so desperate to be filled that you lift and spread both your legs, hooking your arms behind your knees, putting your most intimate parts on full display for him. Oikawa’s jaw clenches at the sight as he slaps your exposed abused hole with his cock. “That’s right, whore. You’re just a cumbucket for me to use. This position suits you.” He continues teasingly sliding his tip between your outer lips, his precum and your liquids mixing together as you continue pleading for his cock. “Tooru, stop teasing me. Please..I need you inside me. I want to be filled with you. I want- I need your cock.” Feeling like he’s teased you enough, Oikawa finally guides his length inside of your tight sleeve and you both groan when he’s fully sheathed. “You’re so tight, Y/N, even after taking four of my fingers. It’s like this pussy was made for me. I’m going to use it until it breaks.” You can’t even coherently reply. All you know is how full you feel and how right and perfect it feels to have his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

Your lust driven mind briefly clears for a bit at the feel of hands intertwining with yours. Oikawa’s interlacing his fingers with yours as he pins both your hands with his and stares down at you. “Keep looking at me, Y/N. Don’t look away. I want to see everything. I want to see your face when you fall apart because of me.” And then you are screaming so loud you’re sure the other guests on the hotel floor can hear you as Oikawa begins a feverish pace. His balls slap against you with every thrust, his cock drags against your g spot, and the intimacy of his fingers interlocked with yours and the hungry love in his eyes has you reaching your peak a third time. Oikawa continues to thrust in and out of you, never breaking eye contact with you and you just lie there, sobbing and taking everything he gives you. Gradually his pace begins to become erratic and he tenses before sinking fully in you and crashing his lips to yours as he cums deep inside of you.

He gingerly slumps down until his chest meets yours and you both lie there, basking in the exhausted afterglow. When your breathing finally evens out, he slowly pulls out of you and places butterfly kisses all over your face before getting up and heading to the bathroom. You quietly whimper at the emptiness you feel inside you as the white fluid begins to trickle down your inner thighs and the pang of loneliness you feel as you stare at the now empty bed. But Oikawa quickly returns with a wet towel and gently caresses you as he cleans the sticky mess between your legs. He litters your body with soft touches and gentle pecks as he attends to you, wiping and massaging your spent figure. Finally satisfied that you’ve been thoroughly taken care of, he tosses the soiled towel aside and plops back down on the bed next to you. You nuzzle your way into his chest as he continues peppering you with kisses, which you return, and you both succumb to soft giggles as you exchange whispered words of affection. For the first time in years, you can confidently say that yes, everything will be okay.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa smut

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arcaneranger · 5 years ago

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Final Thoughts - 2019 Long Shows

Dear Lord. This is where all the good shows went.

2019 was absolutely awful on a season-by-season basis (except for Summer, anyway), but that’s mostly because most of the best shows ran longer than what has become the industry norm of a single season. And indeed, heading into the new decade, we seem to be seeing a major renaissance for two- or split-cour shows, given the massive success seen by shows like My Hero Academia, Food Wars, and Haikyuu!!..particularly in comparison to the new perpetual-runners Black Clover (which, despite running for over two straight years now, is still not the most popular show of Fall 2017 by viewer count on MAL, and sits at a ‘meh’ 7.2), and even worse, Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, which is faring even worse on both counts even though it premiered two whole seasons earlier and the fact that it is the sequel to Naruto.

As a reminder of my rules, the shows on this list may or may not have premiered in 2019, but they finished airing this year. The split-cour rule (stating that I judge any show that “finishes” and then premieres a “new season” within six months) didn’t come into play for any 2018 shows, but it will for Ascendance of a Bookworm and Food Wars this year, at the very least.

With that being said! 25 shows running longer than thirteen episodes finished airing this year after being simulcast, and of those…

I skipped 6:

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part V: Golden Wind, Fairy Tail Final Series, A Certain Magical Index III, Ace Attorney Season 2 and Cardfight Vanguard (2018) because I either dropped or have not finished their previous (also long-running) seasons.

Yu-Gi-Oh VRAINS because the simulcast started late and also it was bad.

I Dropped 8:

Worst Long Show of 2019: The Rising of the Shield Hero

It’s always fun to see that a show you hated from its first episode only gets more and more distasteful afterwards, but it’s less fun when a service you have to promote because they’re the legal option is forced to shove it down your throat because they had a hand in making it and it became a massive hit that your friends don’t see any issue with because the author wrote a story that justifies its hero’s patronage of the slave industry. This is my punishment for watching the whole first season of The Asterisk War before I knew better.

YU-NO: A girl who chants love at the bound of this world

A confusing mess from the word go, this ill-fated adaptation of a visual novel from the nineties seems like it was mostly made to cash in on the popularity of the Science Adventure series, but failed to present itself in a way that made an ounce of sense or looked remotely interesting.

Fairy Gone

Am I really the only one that saw potential here? I mean yes, it ended up a boring slog that didn’t care to move its plot in a meaningful direction, but the first episode was at least cool. I guess Izetta: The Last Witch should have taught me better.

We Never Learn

I know that I’m in the minority in terms of the male demographic for shows like this, but honestly, how are bland harem shows still this easy to market? A copy-pasted protagonist with copy-pasted waifus drag down what could be an interesting setup for a story.

Karakuri Circus

The first episode of this one had me excited, the second and third left me bored to tears and wondering if it would continue to look uglier by the minute. I haven’t seen a three-cour show look this janky since Knight in the Area.

Radiant

Having heard good things about this show from my cohorts, I do feel bad for saying I’ll probably never return to Radiant, but when you have a show that’s notably written by a European author...and it turns out to be a frustratingly standard shounen affair with middling production values, well, you can see my earlier annoyance with Cannon Busters.

Ensemble Stars

This one still gets to me. It almost looked like a male-idol show I would finally be able to get behind, what with its rebellious attitude and oddball setting...that is, until the setting got to be too unbelievable and the show began drowning its audience in side-characters because they had to squeeze every husbando from the mobile game into the story, and it all began to resemble UtaPri a little too much...but without the production value.

Boogiepop and Others

This was a hard drop, honestly. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I felt four episodes in, before concluding that I was bored and not particularly invested, two things that should never describe the experience of watching a Madhouse show. The fact that this was the project responsible for ruining One Punch Man only made it worse. There’s a slow burn, and then there’s walking away without turning the stove on.

And I Finished 11 (holy crap that’s like three hundred episodes just on their own).

That Time I Was Reincarnated as a Slime (5/10 & 1/10)

I’ll be honest, I had forgotten just how livid I was with the ending (and especially the sad excuse of a recap episode) of Slimesekai, and reading back through my write-up of it, it’s certainly coming back to me. While this year had bigger demons to fight (Shield Hero), the bad taste that Slime left me with hasn’t really faded, and the wasted premise bugs me to this day.

Hinomaru Sumo (7/10)

What Hinomaru lacked in production value, it happily made up for in good execution and earnest heart. I can’t believe this came from the same studio as Conception, Try Knights and 7Seeds, but if they can only get out one good show a year, I’m glad that we got one bringing attention to a sport that many will joke about but few understand, respect and appreciate.

Kono Oto Tomare (7/10)

Speaking of giving love to traditional Japanese culture, here’s a decent-if-unoriginal show about a local high school koto club down on their luck, and the troubled teens coming together under a scrappy protagonist to bring it back to life. Kono Oto Tomare doesn’t have much that you haven’t seen before, but a decently-executed club drama with Your Lie In April-inspired musical performances is more than enough to keep me interested, and since Forest of Piano kinda crashed and burned under the weight of its own self-importance this year, it was nice to have an alternative.

MIX: Meisei Story (8/10)

It’s hard to judge MIX next to the other shows on this list because it’s almost too old-school for its own good, revelling in an eighties storytelling style that didn’t end up jiving with a wide audience this year. But at the same time, its fun character dynamics (and a very good dub from Funimation, despite them saying they’d never touch sports anime again) were very entertaining to watch, even if it didn’t focus as much on the sport it was supposedly about as much as I’d have liked.

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (8/10)

I fully admit that I’m very salty about the fact that this won Show of the Decade in Funimation’s poll while it was still on and I thought there were hundreds of more deserving shows, but I can’t deny that Demon Slayer was a very enjoyable experience, albeit one that I had notable problems with. That’s not gonna stop me from getting mad when it sweeps the Anime Awards in a few weeks, though.

Fire Force (8/10)

I was very afraid that David Productions wouldn’t be able to match the energy of Studio Bones’ adaptation of Ohkubo’s previous work, Soul Eater, but I was happy to be proven wrong. Even if the last few episodes contained a bit too much infodumping, it was all sandwiched between jaw-dropping fight scenes that proved that the people who make Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure can still handle the reins of a more traditional action show.

Fruits Basket 1st Season (8/10)

I know that my score for this one is a bit lower than others, but I think that Fruits Basket did pretty well in its first season, considering that it was largely spent setting up future storylines and adapting the part of the manga we’d all seen before, but with much higher production value. I’ve been familiar with this part of the story for over a decade, and the scene with Tohru and Kyo (you know the one) still made me cry. Now, we get the real plot going.

Dr Stone (9/10)

A great start to a totally new spin on shounen, Dr Stone gives me hope for survival in the post-Shokugeki world in which we’ll soon live, as a show that wears its research on its sleeve. A complex plot weaving interesting characters in and out of a narrative surrounding a philosophical battle where both sides actually do have fair points (even if one of them is going about it in a pretty cruel manner). More please.

Vinland Saga (9/10)

Once again, a great start to what will hopefully be years of quality storytelling, Vinland Saga made it seem like it was dragging in the middle only to reveal just what its slow burn had been leading up to, with twist-heavy storytelling and a fantastic cast to match the high visual quality of its brutal battles.

Run With the Wind (9/10)

It’s not often that Production I.G. gets to make a complete, fully-realized show anymore, and this one was a glorious reminder of the potential of the studio in the TV space, and a great rebound for the director of Joker Game. It’s gorgeous to look at, the cast is wonderful, and the story is both realistic and idealistic in a satisfying balance. It’s a miserable process to get to the finish line in real life, but sitting back and watching this was nothing but a treat. At least, until a minor fumble at the end.

Best Long Show of 2019: Dororo (9/10)

Speaking of complete stories, Tezuka Productions and MAPPA teamed up for a breathtaking adaptation of an underappreciated Tezuka classic that expands upon the story in exactly the right way to create a thrilling, savage, beautiful masterpiece that focuses a laser-sharp eye into the relationship between two characters in their journey to, literally and figuratively, become complete people. Also, that opening was killer.

And that’s it! That’s the fun list. Next comes the painful one. Stay tuned for the trash heap.

#final thoughts #year end anime list #long 2019 #dororo #demon slayer #Fruits Basket #vinland saga #run with the wind #Dr Stone #rising of the shield hero #fire force #kono oto tomare!#mix meisei story #hinomaru sumo #hinomaru zumou #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #tensura

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

Note

Hi steph! Hope you’re having a lovely day :-) I was wondering if you could rec some miscommunication fics — they’re my fave and I’m aaaaaalways looking for more. Thanks in advance, you’re the best!!!!

Hi Lovely!

AHHH I love this kind of fic too!! I haven’t tagged ALL of my fics with misunderstandings in them, but I’ve a sizeable amount that I think you will enjoy!

Not all of them, but a good start! As always, if any of my lovelies have their own to rec, please add them!

MISUNDERSTANDINGS / MISCOMMUNICATION

See also: Alexx’s Miscommunication Fic

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

Sociopathy and Other Fibs by kinklock (M, 5,314 w., 1 Ch. || 5+1, Miscommunication, Humour, Friends to Lovers, Post S3, Love Confessions) – Five times John called Sherlock out, and one time Sherlock returned the favour.

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

the lingering taste of orange juice by darcylindbergh (G, 5,824 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Fluff, Miscommunications, Humour) – Sherlock felt the familiar heat surge in his abdomen again at the touch: hope strung taut between head and heart as in all the quiet moments between them, when Sherlock sometimes got the clues all mixed up and thought maybe John felt something too. For once, Sherlock is the idiot.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

The space between by Salambo06 (E, 6,830 w., 2 Ch. || PWP, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Miscommunications, Bottom Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sexual Fantasy) – “It’s for a case,” Sherlock says as soon as John looks down at his computer. John remains silent for a long moment, eyes moving from the screen to Sherlock, before saying, “You don’t have to explain.” His voice is low, too low, and Sherlock looks at the computer, putting the video on pause. “Lestrade asked me-, no, forced me to find out who’s threatening a famous porn star, and the suspect is among his co-stars, so I only need to watch out for any signs from his partners, anything that might show they’re the one sending those threats and I can move to something else.” “Right.”

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, POV John, Embarrassed John, Adorable Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E, 7,692 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Victor Trevor, Jealous John, Miscommunications, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Anal, BJs) – They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband.

On the Losing Side by missselene (E, 8,210 w., 1 Ch. || Anal / Oral, First Kiss / Time, Angst, Misunderstandings, Mild Dub Con / Drunk John) – After Mary's death, John moves back into Baker Street, but is still upset at the loss of his wife and child. Eventually, he and Sherlock stumble into a sort of relationship, but it's more physical than anything and they don't talk about it. They especially don't talk during sex. If they are going to have sex, Sherlock notices the signs hours beforehand, and he prepares carefully. The lights are off, they're under the covers, he prepares himself using lots of lube so he can make it feel as much like a woman as he can, and he doesn't let himself make any noise so that, if John wishes, he can pretend that he's still with Mary.

The Red Dianthus by kinklock (T, 11,382 w., 3 Ch. || Supernatural Elements, BAMF!John, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Romance, Halloween, Dev. Rel., Case Fic) – The boys investigate a mysterious disappearance in a supposedly haunted house, and get much more than they bargained for.

I'm content as we are (but) by inqui (The_Circus) (E, 13,086 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, UST/RST, Pining, Victor Trevor, Minor Whump, First Kiss / Time, Misunderstandings) – In which John Watson sees something unusual, becomes jealous, and makes too much of a small thing as an old friend of Sherlock's shows up in the middle of a case.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

For you, there's only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w., 7 Ch. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock's part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there's only John.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Don't Leave Anything Out by lookupkate (E, 27,422 w., 24 Ch. || Letters / Epistolary, Misunderstandings, Angst, Happy Ending, Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock in Love, Pining Sherlock) – The first letter John writes home from Afghanistan is meant to go to a woman he went on only one date with. How it ends up in Sherlock's hands is completely innocent. What happens next is not. What do you do when you find out the person you're in love with has been lying about something as monumental as who they are? What do you do when you're the one who lied?How on earth do you put the pieces back together?

"finally kiss the bloody idiot" by Salambo06 (E, 29,812 w., 13 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Fake Relationship, First Kiss / Time, Angst, Misunderstandings, Fantasies, POV John) – Inspired by a fic idea on tumblr : "John and Sherlock know the Yard has a pool going for when they’re finally going to get together. It’s been running forever, and it’s worth thousands of pounds. It’s all fun and games, hahaha, until they find out Lestrade is in dire financial straits (dog needs emergency surgery, he’s putting his kid through gymnastics training, I don’t know, something), and they decide to fake a relationship to win the pool for him. Sherlock figures out the day and way that Lestrade thinks it’s going to happen, and they act it out. It’s all for a good cause, fake relationship style, until it’s not." Part 1 of The Pool

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, 39,629 w., 6 Ch. || Fluff & Angst, Case Fic, Oral / Anal, Humour, First Time, Miscommunication, Snark, Christmas) – Christmas time. 'Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there's a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn't have expected anything different.

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., 12 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary, Selective Mutism) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing...and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes... and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they're both so very, very rubbish at talking.

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w., 12 Ch. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) – A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

MARKED FOR LATER

Three drinks or was it five by iriswallpaper (M, 1,455 w., 1 Ch. || Mild Dub Con / Drunk Sex, Morning After, First Time, Awkwardness / Awkward Sex, Idiots in Love, Avoiding The Talk™/Miscommunication, Fluff, Happy Ending) – Sherlock wakes up beside John, naked in his bed, after a night of getting hammered together on very good Scotch. Trying to spare John embarrassment, Sherlock makes as much noise as possible to indirectly wake John, all the while dreading the Very Important Talk he knows John will want to have.

The Case of the Frog Murder and the Disembodied Dog's Head by a_different_equation (T, 2,794 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon || Victorian, Period-Typical Homophobia, Christmas, Est. Rel., Hound of Baskervilles, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Fluff and Humour, Miscommunication) – The true story behind the Baskerville case, and its strange and rather queer conclusion via Christmas Cards.

Sherlock's Solution by PipMer (T, 4,125 w., 1 Ch, || Fluff, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Isolation/Quarantine, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss) – Sherlock and John are stuck in quarantine. Against all expectations, John is the one who goes stir-crazy first. Sherlock has a unique solution to the problem.

The Idiot's Deduction by PaperPrince (T, 4,194 w., 2 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Drama, Angst, Romance, Mentions of Sex, Miscommunications, Just Talk Already) – It's not often Sherlock gets things wrong but then he was never very good with the softer emotions was he? This fic is based on the idea that no one falls into a relationship without knowing about it right? Apparently Sherlock can though.

It's Cold Outside by Salambo06 (E, 7,357 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Cuddling, Snuggling, Frottage, First Kiss / Time, Bed Sharing, Miscommunications, Love Confessions) – John and Sherlock, Christmas night, the heat broke, add some shared body heat and (not so) accidental erections mixed with some miscommunication and awkwardness and, you guessed it, they’re sharing a bed.

A Study in Dichotomy by UrbanHymnal (E, 7,439 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Humour) – John wants his brilliance and his stupidity; his knowledge of 243 types of ash and his inability to name all the planets in the solar system; his perfectly pressed suits and his wrinkled t-shirts carelessly tossed on inside out. John wants to kiss Sherlock when he is still waking to the world, to press against him when he is still warm from sleep. He wants to grab Sherlock by the scarf and haul him close so he can bury his nose in the sweat that has collected at the base of Sherlock's neck, under his arms, in between his legs.

A Chemical Defect Found (On the Losing Side Remix) by AreteArt (M, 7,978 w., 1 Ch. || First Time / Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Mildly Dubious Consent, Angst, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Pining, Anal / Oral Sex, Frottage) – A remix of missselene's "On the Losing Side." After Mary's death, John moves back into Baker Street. He and Sherlock stumble into a relationship, or something of that sort. Sherlock's rather giving when it comes to sex, but that doesn't mean he and John ever talk about it.

As long as it takes by PlainJane (E, 14,866 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, Anal/Oral, Misunderstandings, Gambling, Indecent Proposal, Friends to Lovers, John POV) – Anything Sherlock wants. All night. No strings attached. Part 1 of the John Watson's way series

A Question of Intent by Mildredandbobbin (E, 22,129 w., 6 Ch. || Omegaverse || Dub Con / Consent Issues, Misunderstandings, Knotting, First Time, Switching, Mating Cycles, Top/Bottom O!Sherlock, Top/Bottom A!John) – Sherlock was on the bed, naked, writhing, tangled in the sheets, on all fours and apparently in the full throes of a Heat. So very not good, the non-lizard part of John's brain was saying -- the enlightened 21st Century, reconstructed Alpha part, the part that supported Omega contra-heat, equality, pro-choice, the Omega rape legislation and general gender liberation. The part that knew Sherlock did not, obviously did not, want to copulate with him and certainly did not want to bond.

Divinest Sense by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (E, 25,001 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Mental Health Issues, First Kiss/Time, Coded Clues, Virgin Sherlock, Bisexual John, Slow Burn) – John has been sectioned — deemed to be a danger to himself and others — and is facing six months in an experimental psychiatric treatment facility. After his recent drug overdose, Sherlock is being shipped off by his brother to live amongst the mad, as though this will somehow improve his mental health. What will happen when these two damaged men meet under the least auspicious of circumstances?Hint: You can expect some humorous misunderstandings, burgeoning attraction, coded clues that the reader is invited to try to decipher, eventual explicit sex, and altogether more fluff than one might imagine, given the rather dark premise of this story. Part 1 of the Divinest Senses

A Firm Hand by Ellipsical (E, 36,776 w.+, 11/? Ch. || WiP || Daddy Kink, Office Sex, Blow/Hand Jobs, Bearded John, Exhibitionism, Vulnerability, Kinks, Spanking, Anal, Prostate Milking, Submission, Mile High Club, Misunderstandings, Rimming, Confessions, Anal Plug) – Dr. John Watson, newly turned 35 and recently minted as CEO of Watson Technology, a med tech corporation based in London, after the death of his father, had recently hired the son of an old family friend to be his new personal assistant. The boy had spiralled out of control, according to his parents, and needed a firm hand to guide him. John, who had heard the name Sherlock Holmes crop up in other circles, had an inkling as to why.

Know When You've Been Beaten by Breath4Soul (M, 44,838 w., 12 Ch. || Caretaker John, Autisim Spectrum / Neurodiversity, Sexual Tension / UST, Dark Past, Implied / Referenced Sexual Assault, Dev. Rel., Love Confessions, Hurt / Comfort, First Kiss, Drugged Sherlock) – What began with a drugged and vulnerable Sherlock confessing some things about his sexual history and feelings towards John (after Irene Adler injected him and escaped), becomes a sweet, humorous and awkward journey of Sherlock overcoming his past to flirt with the idea of something more with his companion. Misinterpretations and misunderstandings plague the two, as the good-natured, compassionate and sometimes BAMF ex-army doctor, is seduced by-proxy by the mad-genius detective trying to work through what he wants and if he is capable of providing it.

Your Many Tendencies Series by apliddell (T, 52,222+ w. across 5 works || WiP || Femlock, POC Characters, Enby Character, Sherlock’s Violin, YouTuber John, UST, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Domesticity, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss, Love Confessions, John’s Family, Christmas, Anxious Sherlock, Hurt / Comfort, Institutional Racism) – John Watson returns to London after a long absence, somewhat the worse for wear. She meets Sherlock Holmes, and starts feeling excited about life again.

Proof of Sentiment by LollipopCop (E, 55,082 w., 14 Ch. || Post S3, URT/UST, Pining Sherlock, Angst, First Time, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Mary is Not Nice, Happy Ending) – Sherlock accidentally walks in on John and Mary having sex, and he wonders if his relationship with John could ever be the same.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Craving in Between by love_in_mind_palace (E, 69,349 w., 16 Ch. || Wedding Planner AU || Infidelity, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Sexting & Texting, Alternating POV, Mary is Not Nice) – Sherlock Holmes, The wedding Consultant. Picky about his projects and a nightmare to work with. Rejects ninety percent of the couples after just having a look at them and can predict how long a marriage will last. But when unassuming, plain, John Watson reluctantly limps his way in his office, with his more than enthusiastic fiancée, Mary Morstan, instead of dismissing the ill-assorted couple on the spot, he promptly decides that the project, and the groom.. are definitely worth working on.

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 107,430 w., 57 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.

The Jewel in the Tower by PoppyAlexander (E, 207,079 w., 39 Ch. || Dystopian AU, Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Mild Dub Con, One World Government, Class Issues, Assassin John / Geisha Sherlock, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Espionage, Miscommunication, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Letters/Texting, Phone Sex, Infidelity, First Time, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Injury Recovery, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Scars, Misgendering, Happy Endings) – In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace – despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world's pleasure districts. John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world's most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned "drashaskaya," the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled. In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London's pleasure district. (PUBLISHED AS “At Night in the Floating World”)

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #misunderstandings #miscommunication #my fic recs #Anonymous #to read #e-rated fics

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juminly · 4 years ago

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Hide and Seek (Mitsuhide x Reader) Part 3

This is the finale to “Hide and Seek” which you can read here: Part 1, Part 2. You can also read the full one-shot on AO3. I hope you enjoyed all the smut and feel free to leave any comments <3 Tagging: @yunohawkeye @kylor Warning: NSFW. ------------ “Such hateful words for a woman in such a compromising position, love.” He slowly began undressing, loosening the fabric that covered the ropes of tight sinew that blessed his body and unceremoniously tossing the nuisance away. His chiseled chest that you had bruised with your kisses so many times before, the body that you ached to worship. You bit your lips, eyes widening slightly at the sight of his erect shaft, laying thick in his palm.

Brazenly looking into orbs of sun, he was absolutely breathtaking and that loving yet sickeningly wicked smile of his made your blood simmer. You watched him and felt your mouth water as he began pumping himself slowly, rubbing his thumb right under the head of his cock, that sweet spot of his, glazing it with his precum. “Do you want to feel me inside you, (Y/N)?” he inquired calmly, his voice a bit shaky as he assaulted himself with firm and steady glides of his hand. You licked your lips, feeling your chest tighten with an overwhelming need that was about to take over you. “I want you to fill me up until I cry out your name, Mitsuhide. I want to feel you throbbing in my mouth, taste you while I drink up every single drop you have to offer.” “Ahh…” he purred, clearly painting the mental image in his head. He loved it when you showed the love-depraved kitsune how diligently you were able to pleasure him. “I’ll drive you mad and give you all the pleasure you’d allow me to give you. I just want to hear you moan my name and tremble under my touch.” you pleaded, fighting the need to remove the bind on your wrist. You saw the faint shiver in his body as you narrated the sinful things you wished to do to him. “And… who am I to deny your wish? I’m a fair man so I’ll indulge you. Once I’m done.” he promised breathily as he released his tight grip on his cock. His promise reverberated in your body, sending shivers across your sweat shimmered skin and a jolt to your core, feeling a heated coil in your center that threatened to snap. You wouldn’t have minded watching him pleasure himself, if you weren’t feeling as ravenous as you did. “Now, let’s see how ready you are for me.” “I’m ready… believe me, I’m so ready.” You spread your legs wide, exposing your wet core to him. “Just put it in me.” “Put what in you, (Y/N)?” “Your cock. Just… please, Mitsuhide. You don’t have to drag this out. I’m almost there!” “Hm… Let’s agree to disagree. I’ll determine what course of action should be taken once I’ve had a closer look at you, love.” The heat of his body loomed over you, your beloved kitsune, a man with an unquenchable thirst for… you and you would suffer the consequence of his vehemence. With his thumbs splaying you apart before his sharp eyes, honey seeped from your petals and you mewled “Mitsu!”. With firm hands massaging your inner thigh, his lips found your throbbing core, lapping at your sensitive folds while his rough fingers explored your flesh in slow and deliberate motions. Slowly grazing over your sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue before diving into your entrance, your legs quivered and stomach dipped as you arched back, pushing yourself on his face. You cried out loudly, his tongue going in and out of you in a ruthless to and fro, mimicking the motions of his cock penetrating you. You lifted your hips greedily, spreading your legs even wider, inviting him to do even more. “Give me more, Mitsuhide. Use your fingers.” He chuckled, the thunderous vibration of it thrummed at your core, making you squeal as you tried to pull your wrists apart in vain. His index and middle finger circled your entrance, waiting for further instructions from you, his lips sucking on your wet folds, seeming intoxicated by the taste of you. You began to squirm before you almost wailed, your legs closing on him and squeezing his head between your thighs. “Put your fingers inside me. Make me feel good until I see stars. I don’t want to know… remember… think of anything or anyone but you, Mitsuhide.” He knew how much you loved fighting for your pleasure, which is exactly why he had you all tied up. He simply pushed away one of your thighs, giving him the space to shift his weight and prepare for his next move. One. Two. Three fingers easily sank in you, his lips paying rigorous attention to stimulate every other inch of your burning body but where you needed him the most. You could feel more of your desire seeping out of you, Mitsuhide more than welcoming every drop with gluttonous glee. He gripped the flesh of your inner thigh, pushing it down while your hips rocked upward, fucking yourself with his mouth and fingers. For a moment, he stopped his fingers deliberately, watching them being swallowed in and pulling out of you while you used him for your own carnal needs. Your moans suddenly broke as he suddenly curled his fingers inside you, caressing your inner walls and then thrusting in and out you lazily, drawing out your whines in a composition of his own making. Your lover was on a mission to torture you and he already had you thrashing under him. Soon enough, his tongue joined in your eventual unraveling, flicking your sensitive nub with apparitions of the waves of the release that you sought. “Yes! Yes!” He sucked reverently at your bundle of nerves, knowing that you yearned for it and it would soon bring you over the edge. The alternation between the sucking and flicking enraged you, pulling you away and pushing you closer to your orgasm over and over again. “Noooo… Whyyy!?” the words dragged out painfully as you glared down at the only suspect, guilty of bringing you such beautiful agony. Your lover’s torturous ministrations stopped. His digits were pulled out of you, leaving you so hollow and making you scream his name. Completely unaffected and gazing at you from between your legs, he brought his fingers covered in your slick sweetness to his lips. “You pout so beautifully at your vulnerability, my angel.” With half-lidded eyes, his tongue began swirling around each of his soaked digits, keeping your gaze locked on his. “I don’t think I’ve tasted anything as sweet as you, (Y/N).” You believed his words because he actually meant them. Mitsuhide was the incarnation of a God, radiating unrivaled beauty and lechery, lapping at your ambrosia that clung to his slender fingers with unhinged hunger. “You tease.” you grumbled, arching your back and shifting your weight uncomfortably, looking for any source of friction to grind on to alleviate the aching he caused. “This way? Only you.” he chuckled, rousing slowly. His hands traveled from your ankles, caressing your calves up to your knees, skimming over the softness of your thighs while he settled between your legs. Your throbbing core ached to welcome his fullness, trickling with the blaze he enkindled within you. “Are you ready, (Y/N)?” You simply nodded in response and flinched as he teased you while brushing his cock between your soaked folds, your body shaking from the delightfully painful friction. “I shan’t repeat myself once more. I am growing impatient, (Y/N).” he growled. “Goddddddd! I want you inside me! Yes! Please Mitsu-” With a swift thrust, he entered you slowly, inch by inch as his cock filled you up to the hilt while your core swallowed him whole, clenching around him tightly. Your insides forcefully molded around the shape of his thickness, breaking you open like never before as you bloomed solely for him. Your cries mingling with the moans that wretched from the depth of his throat, growing louder, thick groans rumbling in his chest, resembling the growl of a wild jungle cat, ready to hunt his prey. “Be at ease, love. Your pleasure is all I seek and the way you look right now… Hah, the epitome of beauty.” He panted as his hips pummeled you in a newfound allegro. Tears stung your eyes, feeling a throbbing pain in your core from the sheer force he used to impale you with his member. It felt different than all the other times he had just penetrated you. “(Y/N), look at me.” he commanded your attention. “Let your guard down, love. I’ll take you where you want to be. You cry out to me like a sinful goddess and expect me to be able to resist your call?” With his hands locked on your wrists, He slowed his pace, the sounds of the gushing fluids clashing between emphasized by his dictated motions, your inner walls clenching down on him tightly. The trickster knew exactly how to stimulate all your senses. A self-indulgent smile crossed his lips, your salacious responses enticing him further. “I don’t think a prude would be so turned on by such sinful sounds. Wouldn’t you agree? My angel isn’t so angelic after all and I utterly... adore that about you.” Every inch of your being now sang to the heavens, rejoicing in the fervour and delight of finally being ensnared by the most vile yet pure kitsune of Japan. His hips rolled against you like gentle yet vigorous tidal waves, sinking into you deep and slow, molding you to fit him fully. He leaned down, ensnaring you into a breathless kiss, his intensity almost bruising your sensitive flesh. He masterfully pried your lips open, sucking on them before bestowing his attention on your lips. Kisses laden with passion and irrevocable fervency, you kept your lips locked with his, your mewls loud, clear and demanding. A series of loud and muffled hums filled the room as you attempted to express yourself somehow, in your crazed state. You were completely unhinged for him, under his mercy, seeking only to receive and give him all the love she had for him, for so long. Everything else in the world didn’t matter, you only needed him. He suddenly broke your kiss, looking down on you while you watched the seductive undulating of his lithe muscular form as he pounded you. “Fox caught your tongue, hm?” His teasing smile aroused a feral need in you. You couldn��t help but giggle loudly as the literality of his words and shook your head. “If making love to you will make you lose your voice, I’m afraid I should stop. I couldn’t bear not having to endure your quips.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead. “I love you, Mitsuhide.” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I know.” he replied solemnly. “You are the treasure that I was afraid to keep, for you are my one and only weakness. I am weak without you but I promise you… I would do anything to protect you.” His sweet words sent ripples straight to your heart, making it pound deafeningly. ”I cannot fathom the thought of not being with you any longer.” Warmth ghosted over your shoulders as he peppered you with soft kisses, stopping only to mark the length of your neck with deep love bites, make you croon his name incessantly. “Let all of Azuchi hear you sing for me, my angel. I shall have every man and woman in Japan know that you’re mine.”

Mitsuhide was everything you hadn’t wished for in a man, yet everything that you needed. And you were exactly where you wanted to be, embraced by the sublime love of a trickster. His grip grew tighter on your wrists, slowly reddening from Mitsuhide’s diminishing lack of composure and control. Your submission was answered by his startling ferocity, shedding every bit of his humanity as he turned into a beast, born to kill you softly with promises of infinite pleasure and love. “Join me now… my love.” A soft command. Simple and irrefutable. His lips found yours in a frenzied kiss, your writhing bodies colliding as the flood of pleasure quelled a fraction of your burning desire. Your toes curled for a steep ascent that he soon joined you in, a flurry of emotions culminating to this exact moment but pure ecstasy ruled over them all. You could feel his hot seed pouring into you, his groans loud by your ears as he continued to ease you both through the intensity of your climax with hurried glides of his hips against you. It was only a matter of time before you went completely lax, allowing your lover to come down from his high with a satiated sigh. He let himself fall against you, shifting himself slightly away from you as not to crush you under his weight, which you obviously didn’t mind. But he cared too much for your wellbeing and some things, you couldn’t argue with him on. Without lifting his head, he smiled lazily at you while he untied the obi from your wrists, releasing from the shackles that kept you from relishing the touch of his skin. You threw your arms around him, holding him tightly in a suffocating hug which made him cough and chuckle before wrapping his own arms around your waist, your bodies flush against one another. “We’re going to do that again, right?” You combed the hair sticking to his brow away from his face, tracing your lover’s beautifully sculpted face with nothing but devotion. “What kind of lover would I be to deny my insatiable angel, (Y/N)?” he replied with a bite on your earlobe, sending shivers up and down your spine.

Epilogue

“Mitsu…” you whispered hesitantly. “Yes, my angel?” he murmured softly. The new nickname he had chosen for you made your heart thump with giddiness. “You have yet to tell me what the blue bellflower means.” “Would you really like to know, (Y/N)?” his voice was less teasing than you expected it to be. “I’m your curious little mouse. You know that I want to know.” His breath grew sharper as he took in your scent, trailing kisses across the length of your shoulders, a lazy rumble echoed in his chest while his breath ghosted your silken skin. “I fear that I must come up with another pet name to tease you with. You’ve grown too accustomed to this and it has recently struck your fancy.” His teasing dragged a disheartened moan from your lips, heeded by an imploring tone laced with clear joy. “Please, Mitsu...” Nuzzling in the crook of your neck, your beloved confessed earnestly. “It means that you became Lady Akechi in my eyes, the moment I gave you that hairpin.” --------- If you enjoy my work, please feel free to like/reblog and leave comments/feedback! 💜 Masterlist

#mitsuhide akechi #ikemen sengoku #mitsuhide x reader #ikesen mitsuhide #smut #ikesen fanfic #oneshot #ikemen series #fem!reader #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #akechi mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi x reader #fanfiction #otome

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oliviaischillin1204 · 5 years ago

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i can’t hear you

Pairings: Platonic Analogical

Word Count: 1,994 words

i had my first training course for my new job today and i spent about an hour writing this wip in my head instead. anyways smash that mf like button

also maybe warning for more intense tickles toward the end? i don’t really think it’s that bad tbh but if you have super ticklish feet u may wanna proceed w caution

It was a game they played. Logan knew that. He knew all of the signs: Virgil coming into his room late at night, his headphones casually slung around his neck. He’d sit on the end of Logan’s bed awhile, looking around the organized yet cluttered room. Logan would acknowledge his presence, but would keep his attention on whatever book he was reading that night. The room would fall silent, and then Virgil-- amazing Virgil, evil Virgil-- would put on his headphones.

That was how the game always started. Logan knew that. But it still didn’t make the fluttering feeling in his stomach go away.

He huffed a sigh, a small smile already curling on his lips. Virgil didn’t respond or even react: his attention was (allegedly) completely on his phone as he scrolled through his Spotify. Logan watched him in anticipation for a few seconds before slowly marking his page and setting the book on his bedside table, folding his hands in his lap.

As soon as he did that-- as if Virgil has been waiting for him-- the anxious side made a satisfied noise as he selected a playlist. He tapped play and set his phone to the side, and spent the next minute or so merely bopping his head to the music. His fingers would tap little rhythms on his thighs, then on the mattress, then on the top of Logan’s ankles. It was just enough to make the logical side squirm, watching the gradual movements with a building wariness.

Without warning, Virgil wrapped an arm around both of Logan’s ankles, hiking them up so he could hold them between his arm and his torso. The sudden motion yanked Logan down the bed.

“Oh goodness--!”

The exclamation slipped out before Logan could stop it, and he’s sure Virgil would be laughing at him if he heard it. Luckily for Logan, there was no way Virgil could hear him over the music in his headphones; it was so loud, Logan could hear its tinny sound in the otherwise silent room.

Well. Relatively silent. Because as soon as Virgil got Logan’s legs firmly trapped under his arm, his nails began dancing against the balls of his feet, and Logan fell into startled giggles.

“Nohoho,” he mumbled through his laughter, dropping his face into his hands. His feet twitched involuntarily, but other than that he made no move to pull away from Virgil’s tickling fingers. That was how the game went.

Virgil slowly slid his fingers down Logan’s soles until they were toying at his arches, easily reaching both feet at once with his one free hand. He glided his nails down the wrinkles and lines of Logan’s feet, causing him to curl his toes with a strangled whimper.

“Please,” Logan started to beg before stopping himself. One of the worst (read: best) parts of the game for him was the total silence his reactions were met with. Virgil was blissfully unaware of the noises Logan made when they played this game. But Logan knew. Every squeak, squeal, titter, and giggle that escaped his lips seemed to echo around his room before being thrown right back into his face. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ashamed of his laughter; it was really just the knowledge that Virgil was completely taking him apart without even listening to his pleas for mercy, leaving him to fall into helpless laughter in isolation, that Logan found so utterly embarrassing. And so utterly delightful.

Meanwhile, Virgil seemingly decided that he’d paid enough attention to Logan’s arches, because his fingers suddenly switched positions, choosing instead to scritch-scratch right against Logan’s heels. Logan yelped at the unexpected change, and to his distress a stray snort or two began escaping in his laughter. He hid his face in his hands again, somewhat grateful that Virgil hadn’t heard those particular noises. The taunting that would’ve resulted from them would almost be unbearable.

Virgil began humming along with his music, some nonsense tune that Logan couldn’t identify when he was so throughly distracted, but in his hypersensitive state the wordless melody began to sound like a tease itself, the rise and fall of Virgil’s voice as his fingers expertly circled and skittered all over his heels causing even more butterflies to flutter around in Logan’s stomach.

He wasn’t expecting for Virgil to suddenly jab his thumb into the middle of his sole, throughly massaging the sensitive spot while his other four fingers still managed to mercilessly attack his heels. Logan gasped, snorted, and broke into louder laughter in rapid succession, and his arms wrapped around his torso as he upgraded from giggles to full on cackles.

Virgil went back and forth for a while, choosing seemingly random (yet completely evil) spots to torture with harder tickles while the surrounding skin got gentle, teasy tickles. Logan took deep breaths to avoid getting the hiccups (like last time-- Virgil had laughed himself to tears when Logan couldn’t stop even after the game was finished), but all he succeeded in was making his laughter louder and louder.

Then Virgil abruptly stopped the hard tickles. Logan, foolishly, felt grateful for about half a second, until he felt Virgil begin to spider his nails back up his soles. Towards the balls of his feet. Towards--

“Ah-hahahahaha! Virgihihil!”

The words came out traitorously high pitched, almost a squeal, and he felt his face flush hot at the sound of his panicked voice against the soft quiet of his bedroom.

To his surprise, Virgil froze for a moment, his fingers resting right underneath Logan’s deathspot. Logan watched his back in a mix of confusion and sheepishness-- he didn’t want the game to end already, but he certainly didn’t want to say that.

Virgil didn’t turn around, though, and he didn’t let go of Logan’s feet. Instead, Logan watched with a growing nervousness as Virgil’s free arm moved to the side, picked up his phone, and quickly hit the volume button several times. The barely-audible music from his headphones grew louder, and he dropped the phone back on the bed with a satisfied nod before turning all of his attention back to Logan’s feet.

Logan blanched, especially when Virgil’s fingers started moving again, skittering back and forth across the balls of his feet, but with a greater intention. Like he was purposefully building up to something. Logan’s stomach swooped.

“Virgihihil--”

No response.

“Virgil, wahahahahait!”

Nothing. In fact, Logan thought Virgil might’ve picked up the pace, darting from spot to spot and giving little pinches to the soft skin. Each touch had Logan jumping, shocked noises escaping among his growing giggles.

“No, nohoho-- not there! Wait--!”

Virgil didn’t wait. His fingers shot down to spider at his arches once more, before they began slowly making their way up, up, up.

“Vihi-- Virgil, Virgil, noho--”

Logan was red faced and teary eyed and grinning so wide he felt like his face would split. And Virgil wasn’t stopping.

“No!”

But Virgil did not hear him, and finally, his fingers dove in to scratch and squeeze and tickle in between every single one of Logan’s ticklish, helpless toes.

Logan bucked and screamed, his hands tangling in his bedsheets as he finally fought to pull his legs back. His head kept alternating between falling back to his headboard and falling forward as he curled in on himself, but neither position gained him any relief. He just had to sit there, feet utterly trapped and pleas completely ignored, as Virgil tickled underneath all ten of his ticklish little toes.

He tried to look for a pattern, anything that would lessen the horrible unpredictability of the tortorous sensations, but Virgil didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to his tickles. A pinch at his pinky toe, then his nails would spider across all of his toe pads before coming to rest at the middle toe of his other foot, scratching up and down the stem before poking his way back to the other side. All of his toe tickles were interspersed with quick, random tickles to the balls of Logan’s feet, keeping him frantically guessing when the tickles would switch between very bad to even worse.

To say Logan was loosing his composure was an understatement. He wheezed with laughter when the nail of Virgil’s index finger throughly attacked the spot right underneath his big toe, or when his thumb suddenly corkscrewed in between his pinky and ring toes. He bounced on the bed, his hands desperately clawing at the bed sheets and at the hem of his shirt and at his hair, anything to distract himself from the awful ticklish torture he was suffering on his feet.

At one point Virgil hit a certain spot on the ball of his foot, and Logan cried out in ticklish ecstasy, yanking his foot back as hard as he could. It went nowhere, of course, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Because Virgil, to Logan’s horror, suddenly grabbed both of his big toes, pulling them back and stretching out his entire foot.

Logan gasped. He gave an experimental wiggle, only to find that he could not only not move his feet, but he could no longer curl any of his toes at all. Their precious, sensitive undersides were exposed to the entire world-- and more importantly, to Virgil.

The next second felt like it happened in slow motion: Logan’s eyes darted from his feet to Virgil’s index finger, which wiggled menancingly in the air inches from hit feet. He screamed wordlessly, desperate babbles as he continued to yank against Virgil’s hold, but in the end, there was absolutely nothing he could do to keep Virgil from tickling that one spot, right at the bottom of the space between Logan’s first and second toe, scratching his nail with a nightmarish precision at Logan’s absolute death spot.

It was game over.

Logan shrieked, a sharp, piercing sound that he would absolutely go to his grave before admitting he made. He launched forward, clutching the back of Virgil’s hoodie and yanking on it for dear life.

“Stohoh-- stohohop--!”

Virgil let go of his legs before the word was even fully out of his mouth. He scooted to the side, watching over his shoulder as Logan immediately pulled his knees up to his chest, covering his toes as soon as his hands could reach them.

Virgil caught Logan’s gaze, still gasping and laughing with residual tickles, and let a small smile creep onto his own face. He reached to his phone and stopped the music, pulling the headphones off to rest around his neck again.

“Oh, Logan, were you back there the whole time?” he asked innocently. “Sorry, I was distracted. Music, you know.”

Logan huffed, flustered and frazzled, his legs still pulled defensively against his chest.

“Distracted,” he spat, but the wobbly smile on his blushing face took any poison out of the words. “Of course.”

Virgil gave him a more genuine smile now, summoning a bottle of water and passing it up the bed to the exhausted side. He grabbed his phone and shifted himself backwards until he was sitting next to Logan at the head of his bed. As Logan caught his breath, he unplugged his large headphones and swapped them for a pair of sleek, black earbuds.

“I found this creepy-ass true crime book,” he said casually, eyes on his phone once again as he scrolled through his library. He popped one earbud into his ear before wordlessly offering the other to Logan.

Logan eyed it for less than a second before he laughed lightly, shaking his head in wonder.

“Sounds very interesting,” he replied, taking the other and putting it in his ear. As the two leaned back to listen to the book, he let his eyes slip closed. All in all, even though it was flustering and embarrassing and overall torturous, Logan could never hate this game that he and Virgil play-- especially when it always manages to end like this.

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #ler!virgil #lee!logan #i can't hear you #sanders sides tickling #i did this in maybe uhhh 3-4 hours? idk that should give y'all an estimate of how fast i can work when i have no other distractions #ok actually it's prob more like 4-5 lmaoo i forgot i was watching youtube for a while #as always roast my typos

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rawiswhore · 4 years ago

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Razor Ramon/Scott Hall x Fem Reader- “I’m the Bad Guy, Duh!”

Even though I don't have that big of a crush on him, I did have a dream about him the other day and this fanfic is based on that dream.

He also was pretty hot back in the day.

_______________________________________________________________

During the WWF's New Generation era, hardly any wrestlers were over as they say in wrestling terms.

Over means something the audience really loves and enjoys.

Stone Cold, the Rock, Hulk Hogan, Macho Man, even Daniel Bryan and CM Punk---these are wrestlers who are/were over.

But hardly anyone during the New Generation era was over with the audience--why?

They had such lame, silly, childish gimmicks and characters.

Only a few wrestlers during that era were over, and one of those wrestlers that was a fan favorite was Razor Ramon.

Who was he?

His character was a Cuban guido that was basically like a kid friendly Tony Montana from "Scarface".

While Razor wasn't one of those wrestlers that was popular enough to cross over into pop culture like Hulk Hogan, Stone Cold, the Rock and even John Cena, the audience adored him.

During the late 90's, he moved to an alternate wrestling company: WCW, which had higher ratings than the WWF circa 1996/1997,only when he wrestled in the late 90's, he went under his real name: Scott Hall.

One night during the 90's or early 2000's, when Scott Hall still had chest hair and his hair wasn't going grey, you were lying in bed with him in a hotel room, the only light in the room was the lamp sitting on the nightstand next to the bed you were sharing with him.

His hair was tousled and covering his ears, not slicked back the way it looks in the WWF or in WCW, and this is the way you like him.

He actually got so much hotter and sexier IMO when he was in WCW.

Thankfully, he didn't also have his signature toothpick in his mouth, and you don't want that toothpick in his mouth since you're afraid he might accidentally swallow it and choke it.

Scott didn't have a shirt on, and one of his trademarks is his torso full of black, curly chest hair.

You were lying on top of him, pressing your stomach on his stomach.

He has body hair running down the middle of his stomach, and you could nearly rub the body hair on his abs, though that would be a little strange.

Both of your hands were caressing up and down his chest, running your hands up and down his pectoral muscles.

There isn't much chest hair on his pecs, though.

His eyes were looking down at your hands stroking onto his chest, his mouth had a slight little smirk at your hands caressing on his skin.

You can feel his erection protruding through his boxer shorts, and the hair on his body is probably standing up thanks to you caressing him.

Since he has chest hair in the middle of his chest, one of your hands shifted over to the middle of his chest, where that hand caressed and rubbed up and down his chest.

Your fingers spread apart so you can feel his chest hair in between your fingers.

His curly, dark chest hair slipped in between your fingers, sliding in your fingers like hair in a comb.

He felt one hand rubbing the middle of his chest, thinking you're finally rubbing the part of his chest with the most hair.

You grinned at him while your hand caressed his chest, and his chest hair makes you wanna bury your face in it.

The tip of your index finger rolled around the middle of his chest, his chest hair twirling around the tip of your finger.

You moved your hand out of the way and buried your face in the middle of his chest, where his chest hair is.

You quickly moved your face back and forth horizontally, like you were "motorboating" his chest, his chest hair smothering your face.

His chest hair was nudging and tickling the tip of your nose.

He chuckled and laughed at you motorboating your face on his chest, men can get motorboated too.

One of your legs was nudging against his leg, and you brushed your leg up and down his leg, his leg much hairier than yours.

One of your feet nudged against his foot, your toes curling and tickling in between the spaces of his toes, trying to play footsy with him.

Your feet and legs are perfectly smooth, even his feet are rather smooth and not rough and cracked.

He has such sexy five o'clock shadow, and you lifted your face up from his chest and placed your hands on the sides of his face.

You leaned your face into his face and pressed your lips on his chin, giving his chin a kiss.

You ran your thumbs over his facial stubble, his stubble rough and ragged, like sandpaper.

Your fingers caressed up and down the sides of his face, where his facial hair is.

The pads of your thumbs separated from each other and horizontally slid across and above his top lip, feeling his 5 o'clock shadow.

He grinned at your thumbs and fingers caressing his facial stubble.

His hairy body could keep you warm during the wintertime.

"Mmmmmm, Papi" you purred to him, trying to sound sexy "I want your toothpick in my mouth"

You sounded like you really wanted him, your mouth grinned naughtily from ear to ear.

And you don't mean that toothpick as in that little wooden thing that's sometimes in his mouth.

He chuckled hearing you say that, he wanted to move one of his hands over his mouth and cover it.

"Your wooden toothpick" you added.

And you don't mean wooden as in dull.

You could lick onto his facial stubble, even though it's rough and feels like you're licking sandpaper.

He also has rather hairy arms, so you moved your hands towards his forearms and began caressing your hands up and down his forearms, where his hair is.

His eyes darted over and looked at his forearms, staring at your hands caressing them.

Your hands were messing up the hair on his forearms, making his arm hair unkempt.

Scott could fall asleep with you caressing his body, he needs something like this, especially when he's playing his sleazy Razor Ramon character in lust with the chicas.

When the light was turned out, you continued rubbing up and down his chest as well as his facial stubble, you rubbed on him until you fell asleep.

His eyes were closed and he fell asleep with you rubbing him.

When the two of you woke up, you were still on top of him, resting your head on his chest like it was a pillow.

He slept the whole night with you.

________________________________________________________________

Also, this dream I had with Razor Ramon/Scott Hall also had me transform into Shawn Michaels in 1997 and get a blowjob, I was looking down at someone giving Shawn a blowjob and started humping a trashcan in this dream.

#razor ramon #scott hall #90s #2000s #00s #wwe #wwf #wcw #fanfiction

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shipping-receiving · 5 years ago

Text

Fictober 2019 Day 22: “We could have a chance.”

Rating: T | Word Count: 3069 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones Relationship: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth Tags: Alternate Universe – Office Notes: In this bit, I swap POVs pretty regularly. Triangle ▼ indicates Jaime's POV, circle ◯ indicates Brienne's.

Office AU Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

(read on AO3)

//////

▼

Alright, Jaime, play it cool, Jaime tells himself. He folds his arms and leans back against his car in what he hopes is a natural pose. You have a plan. After dinner, when you’re both alone, ask if this is a date, tuck hair behind ear, let finger linger on cheek, etc. He looks down at himself. Is this pose terrible? It’s terrible. Maybe I shouldn’t fold my arms? He shifts and rests one hand against the side mirror instead. What do I do with the other hand now? He places it on his hip. This is stupid. Oh fuck, I see her.

◯

Stay calm, Brienne, Brienne tells herself as she pauses just inside the main entrance of her apartment building. It’s just dinner. You never said ‘date’, did you? You can still pretend it’s just dinner. She can see Jaime through the glass, standing at his car in what looks like a very uncomfortable position. He needs to stop rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Wait, no, he should never stop doing that. By the time she steps out of the building, the heat of her blush has already spread throughout her entire body.

▼

She’s here, she’s here. The words are an alarm in Jaime’s head as Brienne walks towards him, and he pulls his hand back from the side mirror with a jerk. She’s wearing the blue blouse he likes, the one she was wearing at the office when he first noticed her eyes, but this evening she’s worn it loose and paired with dark jeans. She’s blushing already; that’s a good sign, right? Okay, Jaime, be smooth.

“Hey,” Jaime says in greeting. Fuck, that wasn’t smooth, that must have been two octaves lower than my regular voice. He clears his throat. “Hey, Brienne.”

◯

“Hey,” Brienne replies, trying to get a hold on the tremor in her voice. She absently smooths down her blouse, the one she knows he likes because it brings out her eyes. “Sorry for the late notice.” Why the hells am I speaking like I’m writing an email?

“No—” Jaime scrambles, “Don’t apologise for—I’m happy to—I would have—” and then he just exhales without finishing any one of those sentences.

“Well,” Brienne says, softly and courageously, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” Jaime smiles.

▼

Don’t apologise for asking, was what he meant to say. I’m happy to have dinner with you anytime. I would have dropped everything even if you had given me five minutes notice. Okay, maybe not that last one, that’s probably too much.

He opens the car door on the passenger side and gestures to the seat. “Shall we?”

“Oh! Um, I was thinking we could walk.” Brienne rocks slightly on the balls of her feet. “I know a place about ten minutes from here. Maybe not as fancy as you’re used to—” Oh fuck, does she think I’m too fancy? “I mean, it’s nothing fancy, but it’s good. It’s seafood, if that’s alright with you? I called ahead and booked a table, but we can always cancel it.”

◯

Oh fuck, now he thinks I think he’s too fancy. Brienne just wanted to pick somewhere familiar, and safe, and reliable. The food is delicious enough that he’ll remember the experience, but the ambience is also casual enough that it could just be a meal between friends, if that’s where this ends up going.

“Sure. Seafood sounds great.” He closes the door and locks the car. “We can walk. Is it okay if I park here?”

“It should be fine, I think.” Brienne points uselessly in the direction in which she’s already started walking. “It’s this way.”

“Seems like a nice neighbourhood,” Jaime comments, as he catches up.

“Oh, it’s decent. Quiet. A bit of a distance from the office, but the rent is reasonable enough that I can still get a small apartment to myself.”

“That’s nice,” he nods. “Having your own space.”

▼

I hate small talk. I am above small talk.

“How was your day with Margaery?” Jaime asks.

Is this small talk? I’m showing interest in her life; that’s good, right?

“It was good. She’s…” Brienne bites her lip. “We had a good talk.”

Do I want to know what they talked about? Did they talk about me? Is that why she texted me? Jaime opens his mouth and almost asks a question to that effect, but decides against it. I don’t want to know, anyway. Do I?

He opens his mouth again as they stop to wait at a crossing, but before he can think of the right phrasing, Brienne turns to him. “How was your meeting with the client yesterday?”

“What meet—Oh! Um. It was good too. Illuminating.” Gods, has a meeting with a client ever been ‘illuminating’? She’s going to see right through this.

But Brienne simply says, “That’s good.”

Jaime tries his best not to think about elopements. Damn it, Tyrion.

◯

They cross the road and walk for the next block or so in an uncomfortable silence. Brienne doesn’t know why Jaime is being so quiet. He’s usually the one to get their conversations going. I should have just let him drive, she thinks, though the restaurant is barely two minutes by car from her apartment building.

▼

I’m being too quiet. I’ve clean forgotten how to make conversation. Quick, Jaime, think of something to say.

And so Jaime blurts out the only thing that’s on his mind right now.

“Is this a date?”

▼◯

Oh fuck.

◯

Brienne stops in the middle of the pavement. If she could have done so by screeching to a halt, she would have. “Oh! Oh gods—”

“I’m so sorry.” Jaime wipes his hand down his face. “I didn’t mean for it to come out quite so… bluntly.”

“No—um—it’s fine. It, it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be.” No, Brienne, that suggests you already think it’s a date. “Uh, I mean, do you want it to be a—”

“Yes!” Jaime exclaims before she can complete her question. “… Do you?”

“… Yes. I think I do.” She should probably be making eye contact while saying this, but Brienne is finding the cracks in the concrete beneath her feet particularly fascinating right now.

“Okay,” Jaime responds, and he seems on the verge of laughing with relief. At least, that’s what she can tell while still staring at the pavement. “Good. Great.”

▼

They turn and walk a few more steps, as if everything hadn’t just changed between them. Jaime didn’t tuck her hair behind her ear, or let his finger linger on her cheek while she blushed. But he got an answer, and it was the answer he wanted.

He can’t seem to stop grinning.

Then, he feels a tickle on the edge of his palm. He looks down just in time to see Brienne retract her hand back to her thigh.

“Shut up,” she mumbles.

“I didn’t say a word!” Jaime protests, bringing his eyes up to her face. She’s still refusing to make eye contact. He didn’t think he could grin even wider.

“You were going to.”

“If I was going to, I would have said, ‘Go ahead. I want you to.’”

He can see her shift her gaze from her own feet to his hand again. She grabs it, not gently, but urgently, as if she would have lost all her bravery if she had waited a second longer.

“Shut up,” Brienne mumbles again.

Jaime obeys. He intertwines his fingers with hers.

◯

Jaime’s hand is warm. Brienne knows it is warm because it is connected to her own hand. She curls her fingers upwards, matches her fingertips to each of his knuckles. Her thumb strokes the flesh in the curve between his thumb and index finger. His hand feels muscular, how could a hand feel muscular? But of course a hand that is linked to Jaime’s forearm must be—

And then she realises they’ve missed a turn entirely.

“Sorry, we’ll have to turn back. I forgot to take a right back there.” She leads him back in the direction they came from. Because she can do that now. Because she is holding his hand.

“Good,” Jaime replies.

“Good?” Why would that be good?

He lifts their hands slightly. “More time for this.”

Oh.

▼

The restaurant is small, but cosy. An eclectic assortment of historical illustrations of the Stormlands hang on its walls, alongside other decorative items featuring various marine animals. There’s a remarkably big model of a crab hanging over an empty table in the corner, and Jaime isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when they’re directed to a different table.

He trusts Brienne to order her usual—she seems to be pretty friendly with the owners, who look at him approvingly. He finds this to be quite the confidence booster, and sits up a bit straighter in his chair. He can feel his knee touching hers under the table.

“Hey,” Brienne says, after she’s ordered. “How are you with spicy food?”

I’m pathetic. “I can manage.” I’m an idiot.

“They have this amazing homemade hot sauce here. It’s not on the menu, but I always ask for it to go with my shrimp. We can get it on the side as a dip.”

“I’m game.” I’m also an idiot, but I already knew that part.

Three shrimps-dipped-in-hot-sauce in, Jaime is already sweating.

“I thought you said you could manage!” Brienne laughs, as she hands him a paper napkin.

“I lied,” he confesses, dabbing at his nose.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” Fuck this hot sauce to all seven hells and back. “To impress you, I guess.”

Brienne blushes as she moves the bowl of sauce towards her side of the table. “You don’t need to do that, Jaime.”

“Isn’t that what people do on first dates?” he says, from behind the napkin.

“I guess so.” Brienne gives him a rare smirk as she dips her entire shrimp into the sauce and pops it in her mouth. She’s superhuman. But I think I already knew that part, too.

“My plan backfired, anyway.” Not that it was an actual plan as opposed to a stumble headfirst into hubris. Or rather, stupidity.

“I don’t know,” Brienne says, in the direction of the hot sauce. “You made an effort. It’s endearing in its own way.”

Jaime would be pleased by that if he wasn’t otherwise occupied with chugging his glass of iced water, and motioning to the server for a refill.

◯

The owner of the restaurant offers a sort of conspiratorial smile to Brienne while Jaime takes his credit card out to pay for the meal. She’d be more comfortable going dutch, to be frank, except they’d had enough arguments over the past four weekends about who would pay for entrance fees and sandwiches and ferry tickets and so forth. Jaime almost always won, on the basis that she was doing him a favour in the first place by showing him around.

As the little machine spits out Jaime’s receipt, Brienne remembers Jaime physically blocking her from handing cash over to the bewildered woman at the art museum’s ticketing counter. And how she found that he had slipped money into her pocket at some point during their time on Tarth, though she had deliberately arrived at the ferry terminal early so she could buy their tickets for them both. She wonders if she should feel offended. She bites back a smile instead.

They walk back to her apartment building, hand in hand. They don’t speak much again, but the silence is something pleasant this time. As if a weight has lifted, and yet also settled between them both. She reaches her other hand over and wraps it around his forearm. Gods, it feels even better than it looks. How is that even possible?

They reach his car, linger there, hands still glued together. Ask him, Brienne. Just ask. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Do you—do you want to come up? Margaery brought wine this afternoon but we didn’t get around to it. If you’d like some.”

“Oh! Uh—”

And then Brienne realises how that sounds. Oh gods, I didn’t mean to imply— “I don’t mean—” Fuck, does he think I’m— “I haven’t even—” Nope, he doesn’t need to know that— “I just mean, it’s nearby, and the only thing around here that’s open late is this one pub and that can get really noisy—we could go sit in the park, I suppose, but it’s pretty dark right now and it’s a bit of a detour—”

“No, I, I would love to go up—I mean—to, to talk. Or whatever.”

Or whatever.

▼

And, it’s awkward again.

Brienne is sitting next to him on her couch, both her hands in her lap, and she’s so stiff that he’s reminded of the way she sits at her desk at the office. He lets his eyes wander around her apartment while they sit in silence. Everything is simple and functional, save a framed picture on a bookshelf of someone he assumes is her father. But it feels warm nonetheless. Maybe it feels warm because Brienne is in it. Because it’s an extension of her. He thinks, for one of the few times in his life, that he is in a space that feels like a home.

Their two glasses of wine sit on her coffee table, untouched.

“Brienne—” he starts, but at the same time five words come out of her mouth in a rush:

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

◯

Brienne had been thinking about it the whole way from his car to her couch. It seemed to her like that was where this night was headed, and she just couldn’t stop thinking of those five words. They echoed in her brain as she poured them two glasses of wine, and set them down on the coffee table.

But I didn’t have to say it, did I?

“Shit. I didn’t mean to—” She brings her hands up to her face, as if she could contain the burning of her skin with her palms.

Then, she feels Jaime’s hand wrap around her wrist, guide her hands down.

“Okay,” he whispers, though there’s no one around to overhear his words. It’s just the two of them, on her couch. This—this is the entire known universe. “Thank you for telling me.”

And then he shifts toward her. Their thighs are two parallel lines, defying all mathematical logic by meeting at every single point. One of Jaime’s hands winds around her waist, towards her lower back. The other is moving up to caress her cheek. Brienne can’t tear her eyes away from his lips, which are moving in closer and closer and—

▼

“Ow! Fuck!”

Jaime’s brain is reverberating in his skull. Okay, so maybe this doesn’t hurt as bad as that one time him and Addam decided to headbutt each other for fun (it wasn’t fun, and they were more than old enough to know that it wouldn’t have been). But when you’re expecting lips to meet instead of foreheads—

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry Jaime.”

“It’s fine,” he says, as he rubs his brow with his fingers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m sorry. Do you need ice, or something?” He feels her tender touch on his forehead, something selfless, though it must have been equally painful for her.

“No, I’m fine, really.” Jaime opens his eyes and looks through the mess of all of their fingers. Her blue eyes are glistening in the warm glow of the lamp standing next to her couch. “Oh hells, Brienne, don’t cry.”

“I’m not!” she insists. And then a tear runs down her cheek. “Well, I wasn’t going to until you said that!”

He wipes away one tear, and another. “If you don’t want to—if you’re not ready—we don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she says. It sounds to Jaime like fear and desire in the same breath. “It’s just—I’m nervous because I really want to, and I’ve never done it, and I don’t want you to think—”

◯

Words don’t exist.

Jaime is kissing her and words don’t exist.

What are words? There is only the feeling of his lips on hers, his hand around her neck, his hand that she already knows is warm because her own hand has held it, his other hand on her cheek. There is only her own fingers in his hair, tracing the ridges of his scalp, down to the back of his neck, daring to slip beneath his collar, and Brienne finds perhaps that she has no need for oxygen ever again.

When Jaime breaks from her, all the words come rushing back into her brain, and with that, all her thoughts, her fears. “How was that?” she can’t help but ask.

Jaime just smiles at her, and doesn’t answer. Perhaps words stopped existing for him too. After a while, he asks, “How was that for you?”

“I… I liked it.” It sounds trivial, when she puts it like that. But she can’t think of anything else to say. She just knows she doesn’t want to kiss anyone else but Jaime. Ever. But maybe that’s something she should keep to herself, for now.

“I liked it too,” Jaime echoes, still smiling at her. “Do you want to—we could keep—”

“Please,” she hears herself say. Please.

As Jaime leans towards her again—leans over her, more like; she must have reclined onto her cushions at some point in that period of wordlessness—Brienne suddenly feels compelled to voice a confession. To put something into words.

“Jaime,” she whispers up to him. “I—I never thought I would have a chance at—at any of this.” A chance at dates, and kisses—and whatever comes after, eventually. A chance at love, she dares to think, even if she won’t say that word quite yet, and won’t for a while longer.

“I could say the same to you,” he breathes.

“Really?” How could that be possible?

“Really,” Jaime says, with a quiet conviction, a singular truth. He tucks her hair behind her ear, and lets his fingers linger on her cheek. “But we could have a chance, don’t you think?”

This time, Brienne doesn’t reply. She doesn’t put it into words.

Words—words don’t exist. Not for the rest of this night.

#fictober19 #jaime x brienne #braime #my fic #hope you like it! i think it's romantic and funny? lol #i never knew home until i found your hands

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