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gladiatorcunt · 3 months ago

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- GUESS | XIII.

you wanna guess the color of my underwear, you wanna know what i got going on down there

cw: kinktober prompt (ass worship), yoga trainer!oikawa, fem reader, rimming, body hair, scent & piss mentions, light implied yandere, public sex (?), hinted possibly one sided iwazumi x reader, light dub con, mentions of fisting, implied that oikawa’s been into reader from the start, semi obsessive behavior, porno plot, self degradation, food play mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Mmh, just like that cutie, lift those hips up for me.”

You’ve been coming to the new yoga class that just opened up at the gym for a while now, a couple months a few times a week, you’re a bit of a homebody otherwise and yoga is the one physical exercise you don’t mind doing often. You like being flexible, able to bend your body in shapes and ways another person would have a harder time doing. And you’re not having sex, so any physically strenuous activity that leaves you sore until you’re put back together by your healing body does wonders for you.

Plus you like the way the leggings hug your well endowed assets, so do a lot of the men in the gym. You wear the form fitting workout clothes for yourself first and foremost, but you can’t lie that a little attention from afar (sometimes too close up by one of the trainer’s usually steps in to help you) boosts your ego. If there’s one thing in life you have to be proud of, at least you have your ass. Squishy and round, jiggles when you walk and never disappoints you unlike everything else in your life.

The same ass that’s raised high in the air in front of your yoga trainer, a more than handsome man in his late 20’s with wavy milk chocolate colored brown hair and a smug twinkle in his eye that’s connected to his smarmy always on his face (even when he seems pissed) grin. You’ll never forget the confidence in his posture, standing tall at the front of the class and introducing himself. Tooru Oikawa, just moved here from japan, his best friend owns the place so it wasn’t too much trouble to get hired, and SO excited to start this journey with you all!

You’ve stayed at the back since then, anxiety swirling in your belly when he’d make the rounds to correct your forms and check on you all. But he’d only pass by with a brisk touch to your back and a ‘good job’, maybe a semi solid pat if you were one of only ones who had a good form, and not to brag, but that’s been the case on more than one occasion.

Now you’re undergoing a little one on one session, he asked you to hang back, noticing you’ve been holding yourself back. You’ve never made much of an effort to talk to him and despite the fact that you’ve never needed this kind of focused attention, he’s been feeling a bit bad that you keep to yourself so much. He doesn’t bite you know, not unless you want him too.

It’s an odd flirtation, something you’ve noticed he never does with anyone else in the class. Oikawa’s attractive enough that you’d balk at him abusing his privilege to drown himself in quickies in the gym’s showers, as off putting as it’d be. But he’s very professional, chuckling at one of the older women making a pass at him and politely turning her down.

So you got in your own head and knew that since there was always room for improvement, surely there must be something he could help you with. So here you are, going through basic poses first before he pushes you into the more advanced ones. You told him that other than increasing your flexibility, you weren’t really sure what other areas would be best for you to get better at.

Oikawa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, no worries, he’ll walk you through a little assesment mini program. Since you mentioned not having done yoga seriously until now, there could easily be something you didn’t even realize needed to be attended to!

“Remember, we want to really feel that stretch, arch your back and lower your head. Breathe in, breathe out.” He instructs, settling a wide palm on your lower back. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’s so close, if you backed up to regain your footing your ass would press up against his bulge. Not that you can tell if he has one right now, but you’re kind of hoping he does. It’s just another part of the fantasy, that’s all this is, you tell yourself. You’re going to soak up the attention, make more small talk as you gather your things and leave, and sit at home suffocating your vibrator until your legs turn into jelly.

“Am I doing this right? My legs feel stiff.” You shift your weight from side to side, your hips gently sway, you could be too in your own head but having Oikawa’s pretty eyes scrutinizing every detail of your body is fucking with your confidence.

He hums, a trail of heat sizzles down your back as he slides his palm down to cup your hip. “If something seems off then it probably is, just widen your stance and put your feet further apart, loosen up your hips. You’re definitely a little tense, cutie.”

Okay so he’s definitely flirting with you, but you don’t startle and shoot back up so you can get out of here. Instead you internally cringe at the squeaks your yoga mat produces, adjusting your ankles to line up more with your shoulders. You keep breathing, in and out, letting your energy flow through your limbs as you maneuver them into the different positions.

Oikawa Tooru burns like a furnace in hell, you realize. Despite having a firm grip on your hip, he’s standing a respectable distance away from you as you bend over. You can still feel the heat radiating from him, his sleeveless muscle tank and his black shorts.

“I think that’s better. Sorry, it's hard for me to relax, I guess.”

“No worries, I totally get it, you do seem like the type to be wound up but that just means we get to unspool your thread and unravel you so we can get to the start and rebuild.” His free hand curls around your other hip, his thumbs absentmindedly stroke the crease where they disappear into your thigh.

This private coaching session is steadily becoming what you’re afraid of, and so horny for you could shoot off into the sky like a soda bottle chocked full of mentos. You didn’t notice when Oikawa got even closer, his blunt hip bones cradling your ass in between them. Could he just be weirdly, and grossly in most people’s eyes, friendly? Does he even see what he’s doing as being the tentative first step into fucking you in a public gym yoga studio?

“Um, yeah, thank you by the way. I’ve felt so much better since I’ve started taking your class, you’re a lifesaver even if I still have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, we all do, including me, believe it or not. I remember you from back then you know, so shy and fidgety, like a baby bunny.”

“You’ve really filled out too. Excuse me for saying this but I know this ass wasn’t always like this, so pretty and plump.” Toned hands drag over the swell of your cheeks, not digging in and kneading the globes, only ghosting their touch along the clothed flesh.

You subconsciously wiggle your hips, Oikawa’s breath hitches behind you, and that is perhaps the most monumental thing you could have achieved today. Flustering the man who gets hit on a billion times per day and gives it back tenfold, a competition of who can keep their cool, that’s how he operates in most things you guess. Like he’s always competing against somebody even if they don’t know, and he just has to win or it’ll be an ugly spot on his record. A record only he keeps and only he sees, but you sense that that’s more important to him than anything else.

“Oh, thank you. I just do a lot of squats every morning and every night after class, nothing crazy. Yoga’s the only other kind of workout I do consistently, anyway.” You're still in what feels like a perverted version of downward dog, briefly taking stock of the strain in your legs now trying to hold the position.

Oikawa makes a surprised sound, “Really? You have such a great body, I’m shocked you’re not a gym rat like me and all my buddies. Some people are just lucky, huh cutie?”

He says it, humble and charming, like he doesn’t also consider himself one of those people. Your cheeks heat up at the idea of a musclehead like Oikawa complimenting your curves, your chubby gathering of fat even in places some people would find ugly, your wideset bones and plush tummy.

A pin drops, “Alright. I think you’ve been in that position long enough, why don’t you go ahead and lower your knees into the table top pose, bring your head up slowly and remember to breathe. In, out, good girl.”

His hands guide your hips down, he steps back to let you settle your knees on the mat. You hear the foam sink behind you, he’s sort of kneeling too, halfway sitting on his legs, the backs of his feet facing the ceiling. Oikawa looms over you like this too, he has a presence you can be lost in before you actually see him, which you definitely can in the wall to wall mirror in front of you. The yoga class was a dance studio before Iwa decided it didn’t fit with his vision, you remember Oikawa telling you all on his first day.

He must feel your wide eyed stare, because he looks up too and suddenly you’re locked in a charged moment.

Neither of you says anything as his feather light touches on your ass become firmer, he’s outright groping you and pulling you back to be flush against his crotch.

He grinds his half hard bulge against you, keeping eye contact with you through the mirror.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice me, cutie. Been wanting to do this for so long, you have no fucking idea.” He huffs, adjusting his clothed cock to rest between your cheeks. “You’re so hot, every time I saw you bend over I wanted to cancel class and take you right then and there.”

You gasp and rock back into him, shaking your hips and digging your knees into the mat. You have half a mind to look around the room for the camera and porn filming crew but reality is clearly stranger than fiction, your hot yoga trainer’s stiff cock is sandwiched in your ass crack.

He takes his sweet time dragging his length up and down, the tip catches in the divot of your leggings where your hole is, you’re a little disappointed that he’s not humping you like a rutting dog but you suspect that that’s part of the fun. Oikawa knows you want him so bad that he’ll restrain his urge to fuck you through the floor all the way to the center of the Earth just so you can endure some teasing. You’re so shy and withdrawn but those girls are usually the best kinds of freaks, all he’s doing is bringing it out of you, call it another one of his famous coaching methods.

The door’s locked, so if Iwazumi catches on to what’s happening and tries to rain on your parade, he’ll have to listen to a symphony of moans and slick sounds of bare sweaty flesh slapping against bare sweaty flesh. Oikawa laughs and tells you that Iwa’s been eyeing you too, when you check in at the front desk, when you’re getting water, when you head into the changing rooms to get ready for his class, it’d be helplessly cute if you weren’t already taken. Or, you’re gonna be, at the very least.

“When we’re done, I'll clean you up with my tongue and we can go on a little date. I can take you out properly this weekend but I'd hate for you to think that I was just trying to hit and quit it. I’m not the type to pump and dump, not anymore.” He speaks into the divide of your ass cheeks, having sunk to floor fully and doing some bending over of his own to be at eye level with your lower half.

You bite your lip when he starts nipping at you through your leggings, he smiles into the fabric and bites down harder, soothing the sting with slow licks. Oikawa kisses all over the swell of your behind, sniffing the scent of your perspiration and your body oil in between, medicinal vanilla and natural musk. You can see him hump the mint green yoga mat as he reaches up to hurriedly tug your leggings down enough to expose your ass. Your black thong frames it perfectly, but Oikawa pulls them off too and stuffs them under the waistband of his shorts.

He groans at the sight of your bare skin as it bounces free to say hello, taking a handful of each cheek and squeezing the life out of them, the thick flesh bulges between his fingers so he swiftly smacks each one, for tempting him and making his cock so hard it could explode into a blood filled mess of cum and sticky pubes in his pants. You cry out, rocking forward only to be immediately pulled back so he can keep kissing your ass.

He dotes on it like he would your face or mouth, almost giggling before and after quick pecks that develop into long slurps at your rim. He runs the tip of his nose over the hair on your crack, wetting it in messy swipes of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, better than pastry i’ve ever had, and believe me, you don’t even want to know how much money i spend at the bakery across the street from my apartment. You’d love it.” He moans, saying hello to your winking hole by dotting barely there kisses right in the center before toying with you, dipping the tiniest bit of his tongue in your walls, then dragging his saliva all over your pucker. “It’d be fun to eat something off you, we could make a date out of it. Go up to the counter and pick which ones would taste the best when I eat it off your fat ass, but I think they’d all be amazing, don’t you?”

You nod rapidly and throw your ass back on his tongue, burning in shame with every smug laugh and grunt as Oikawa beats around the bush so to speak, doing everything under the sun with your ass but properly eating it. You wish you were in your shitty apartment, sitting on his face and drowning out the sound of your arguing neighbors with your slutty moans. He looks up from behind you to check on how you’re doing, and thank heavens because he finally buries his face in your ass and slurps at your puckered hole.

You lose yourself to the experience, feeling his wet tongue fuck into your ass hole and carve out little pieces of you for himself. He pays zero attention to your pussy, which is why it’s so wet and dripping onto the mat beneath you, it’s like he’s too obsessed with your thick globes to even notice, but you don’t hate it. It’s hot to have a guy be eye socket deep in your ass but also have him neglect where you really need his attention, there’s a dichotomy between being the mousey way you’ve gone about your life and the whorish behavior this man is urging you to consider.

You looked fucked out already, hair all over the place from how much you’ve messed with it and lips dropping open on drawn out squeals and whines. Oikawa is eating your ass out like it’s his main job, the one he puts in overtime for and goes above and beyond to be employee of the month at. He thrusts his tongue a few more times before apparently deciding that’s not enough and slipping in one of his absurdly long fingers alongside it.

You whimper, clenching around both as you just sit there in that damn table top pose and let a man you barely know play your ass like a well oiled fiddle. He shakes your cheek in his hand as he digs his tongue into you, delicately fingering your hole until it goes slack enough for him to insert another. You’re impossibly tight, as much as your clit is howling for it you know perfectly well that any serious penetration isn’t possible. From the impressions you got, Oikawa’s packing enough to tear you until you bleed if you don’t use lube or prep thoroughly beforehand, which you’d do anyways but it’s a shame.

Your clit throbs painfully but Oikawa pulls back with a gulp of air to level you with a warning look in the mirror, which only gets you wetter, you twitch again because he’s one of those. There’s a brief flicker of defiance, you could pout and touch yourself anyway, you don’t owe this ridiculously attractive man anything and he’s the one motorboating your ass cheeks and not the other way around, so shouldn’t you be the one in charge?

Then his eyes darken, you get another sharp smack and you table the discussion for some far off occasion.

Oikawa smiles, gently kissing the apple shaped swell of both of your cheeks, “See, I know from your time here that you can be such a good listener, you’re so sweet for me, I know it. You can’t hide that from me just because you want to throw a fit, I said we’d get to know each other afterwards, didn’t I?”

You scoot your ass back in apology, silently begging him to get back to it. He must really be horny too because he dives straight back in, groaning into your rim and french kissing your hole. The hand not doing its best to push its entirety into you kneads your fleshy ass cheek, molding it like dough and separating it from its twin, giving him easier access to your pucker. He ‘tsks’ not even a second later, crooking his two fingers and letting go off your cheek, humming in contentment when it bounces against his face and he’s smothered again.

He wonders if you’ll let him fist you, give you a unique one of a kind rose to swoon over and keep tucked away inside you later, the perfect first date gift from your future boyfriend.

You can even do couples yoga in the morning after your first night together!

“Let’s see if you can cum just from getting your ass played with.” Punctuated by a fourth finger sliding into the knuckle in your ass, he scissors his fingers to stretch you out and playfully acts like he’s gonna sink his whole fist in, pulling out his fingers to curl them into a ball.

The barest hint of blunt pressure on your hole sends a flood of your juices down his arm, smelling somewhat pissy which gives Oikawa truly the most impish grin imaginable.

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lee-laurent · 4 months ago

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T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine

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floatyflowers · 6 months ago

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Hola como esta disculpe la molestia pero por favor podria crear una historia de Jacaerys X Reader "semilla de dragon"x Dareon algo asi como que Dareon lastimara a rader y ella se fuera de antigua y años despues conociera a Jacaerys y se enamorara de el luego en una vatalla se encontrara con Dareon y este intentara recuperar su amor y la ventaja de 1 dragon pero ella ama a jacaerys y no se deje manipular por dareon por favor le deseo lo mejor disculpe por molestar

Translation: Hello, how are you, sorry for the inconvenience, but could you please create a story about Jacaerys In a battle she will meet Dareon and he will try to regain her love and the advantage of 1 dragon but she loves Jacaerys and do not let herself be manipulated by Dareon. Please I wish her the best. Sorry for bothering you.

You have been married to your twin, Jace, right before the war for duty, but before marriage, you were in contact with Daeron through letters.

Both of you are best of friends since childhood, and this is a secret you both kept from your family.

After war, you didn't answer any of his letters in fear of your mother and husband finding out.

However, you answered one letter where he requests that you both meet up in secret and try to end this war and achieve peace.

You always wished for peace from the beginning, so you agreed to the meeting, taking the chance where Jace was off to the Battle of the Gullet

As the sun started to set for the day, the sky turned into a mix of soft pink and orange.

The sea breeze caressed the shores, bringing up the salty scent with it.

Daeron stood at the beach, in a spot that wasn't too far from Oldtown and hidden behind rocks, just as the letter requested you both to meet.

A smile appeared on Daeron's face as he saw you walking towards him, his violet eyes locked with yours and the wind blew his silvery hair.

"I half expected you to not show up, I'm delighted to see that you disappointed my expections."

He said while holding his hands behind his back, a few feet away from him stood his she-dragon, Tessarion.

"I have missed you dearly" you confess with a smile, as you stop right infront of him.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you, taking in your beauty and the way your irises shined.

"I missed you too"

Daeron said, placing both of his hands on your cheeks, you hold into his hands in fear he might lean in further to place his lips against your.

"Daeron... The war"

You remind him about the real reason for the meeting, already starting to feel uneasy.

Daeron clenched his jaw, his eyes darkened as his voice became serious.

"I brought you here to open your eyes and bring you to the right side of the war"

Your eyes widens in shock, trying to pull away from him but his hold was too tight.

"Jacaerys doesn't deserve you nor your love" Daeron begins.

"I love him-" he cuts you off.

"You love him for duty as you have been always dutiful, but you know that the love between us is beyond duty or lust"

You shook your head in disagreement.

"Daeron, we are nothing but friends, I truely love Jace" You exclaim.

Your Targaryen uncle smirks, tilting his head.

"But does he love you?"

Hearing that, you frown in confusion.

"You know that there is some truth to rumors revolving around Jace having a relationship with Baela"

Knowing very well what Daeron is doing, he is using the information you revealed to him in letters about how Jace used to have a crush on Baela when you were children.

And you aren't stupid to fall for such manipulation.

"I still love Jace, and if you have brought me here to change my mind, then let me make it clear I will always support my mother as the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms"

Your declaration didn't faze him at all.

"You are naive to come here alone"

Realizing what he meant, you tried to rush to your dragon but it's too late when you see an army marching behind the beast, they hit your dragon with large arrows directed at the wings to stop it from flying.

"You have tricked me" you wail out in distress and betrayal.

Daeron places his lips against your before pulling away and placing his forehead against yours.

"I have done what is best for you, my heart"

#daeron x reader #tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere house of the dragon #possessive #house of the dragon

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 5 months ago

Text

This is complaining day because I realized there's more than one thing that got on my nerves lately and it's not just about the treatment of a kpop idol's mother. Let's begin.

Please, stop refering to Jungkook's mother as mama Jeon. I know the tendency is to ignore so many of the cultural differences that exist, but in SK, people don't change their surname after marriage. It just sounds idiotic and westernized in a ridiculous way.

So, Jungkook's mother loves all BTS members. She LOVES them all. How does army know that? How? I'm genuinely curious and genuinely asking. Because they say it as a certainty. Or, forgive me if my memory is faulty as well, but the only instance that we as outsiders were privy to in which we heard that woman speak for the first time, it was in early 2021 on another phonecall with Jungkook when she said I love you to Jimin.

Of course, the same ot7 narrative came as a buldozer at that time too. Damn, does that mean Jimin = BTS? Sometimes yes, but only when Army wants to diminish Jimin's importance and doesn't allow him to stand out individually too much. Musically or otherwise. But back to this Big Love that Jungkook's mom is supposedly feeling for everyone and which has been invoked once again when that woman mentioned Jimin twice while talking to Jungkook on the phone. Cause she already knew they were in Jeju. I bet she didn't have to find out randomly from a schedule group chat.

So what happens? An assumption is turned into certainty because of small people being extremely insecure. Because they see that one person is once again given more importance on a personal level and we can't have that. No sir! So in a panic, they tweet, they post on tumblr, tiktok, youtube the old age, boring af, sounding like a broken record sentence: "Mama Jeon loves all seven". Fuck me gently with a chainsaw cause that sounds a lot better than the feeling of throwing up I get whenever I read such things.

No, she doesn't love all of them. That is not a fact. It could be true and it's not impossible. But it is not a fact based on the knowledge we have at the moment.

Also, it shows once again that an entire fandom is actively creating a reality of their own which is not even like some sort of simulacrum of the reality they must live through. In Army world, the mother of one member of a k-pop group must love all the members of such group. It doesn't matter than irl, our mothers a lot of the times don't even like all our friends, besties or partners. We might have the most incredible connections and it would mean nothing to our mothers.

In that same vein, another narrative that makes me want to pull my eyes out is the "awww, their bond is to die for, they are (like) siblings after all". Do any of them never had any siblings? Never saw other people and their relationship with their siblings? Or with their family?

I also had to read (which was followed by me blocking it immediately) how Jimin and Jungkook's relationship is the sum of the other relationships they have with other BTS members. I mean, why would I have any sort of expectations from any of these people when they are completely incapable of looking at JM and JK as actual people. As persons with individual minds and an intellect of their own. Let alone the fact that their world does not stop with the presence of 5 other men. In what realistic scenario does this translate in real life? That's not how it works. Yes, we are social creatures and a product of our surroundings, but it is not in the way in which these stans believe it to be. They think that living in a dorm for a few years and working together with other people, it means that those experiences are the only ones that actually shape the personality of a person. They are real people, not fictional characters. I've never heard such ridiculous theories in my entire life, to be used as talking points about someone's behavior or relationship with another person.

Maybe the need to create this elaborate fantasy comes from the lack of love in their life, which then gets projected into this Disney, kumbaya, capitalist heaven narrative in which everyone is a big family and they love each other so much and equally and all the parents of all the children love every single member and thus, harmony is created. Love is always platonic and ever present. The complexity of human relationships must not exist.

#m thoughts #jikook #bts army #jimin #jungkook

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 8 months ago

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Love Bites {Masterlist}

With your memory spotty, you gravitate toward the first person you see—an old friend from a very old past. But Astarion is keeping plenty of secrets...and he's never been the best liar. How long will it take before his deceptions unravel? And what will you do when you realize just how much damage he's done?

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, vampire spawn!Tav, fem!Tav, manipulative but guilty/regretful Astarion, Astarion's sexual trauma, Cazador, vampire bite, reader is turned into a spawn, reader is technically one of Astarion's victims

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, consensual sex, mirror sex, riding, fingering, oral, blood kink, bite kink, loving sex, non-descriptive noncon/dubcon (Astarion’s trauma), Astarion experimenting with his boundaries

Total Word Count: 47,397 words (87 pages)

Notes: The title of this fic (and some of its chapter titles) is heavily inspired by Def Leppard's song Love Bites.

Posting Schedule can be found on my {Updates Page}

CONTENT NOTE: Where Astarion's perspective comes into this fic, I tried writing his experience with his hurt that he has been treated this way along with his "this is what I do" mentality; he's very back and forth about the abuse he's endured and some of my writing reflects that. If that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I completely understand and I encourage you to leave the fic at any point. However, I do believe writing this perspective is necessary, as his blasé take on his sexual trauma is one that I myself have struggled with, as I am sure other survivors have as well.

☟ story parts linked below ☟

Best Unremembered {Chapter 1} Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Walking Corpses {Chapter 2} Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Little Love {Chapter 3} Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

The Golden Elf {Chapter 4} Sometimes, vampires choose their spawn specifically. Sometimes, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time and are lost to their loved ones for centuries. These days, that's all you can think about.

Little Star, Little Sun {Chapter 5} A long-awaited reunion that doesn't go quite as planned can lead to many things, especially when two manipulators both lay their traps for one another. Though is it really a trap when all you want to do is spare your lover from yet another night of torment?

Love Bites {Chapter 6} Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Love Bleeds {Chapter 7} Fangs gleam in the shadows and a coffin lies open nearby. Vampire lords are nasty creatures; even a changed heart can do very little when there are claws around it.

On My Knees {Chapter 8} A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Second Chances {Epilogue} Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Love Bites Soundtrack — 3h50min

Chapter 1: tracks 1 - 6 Chapter 2: tracks 7 - 13 Chapter 3: tracks 14 - 19 Chapter 4: tracks 20 - 26 Chapter 5: tracks 27 - 32 Chapter 6: tracks 33 - 40 Chapter 7: tracks 41 - 46 Chapter 8: tracks 47 - 53 Epilogue: tracks 54 - 60

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

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sometimesanalice · 2 years ago

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Like I Can (Part 1)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 2

(We’re kicking of Valentine’s Day a bit early❣️ Enjoy!)

“I’m all for growing the sport, but Brady buying an MLP team is ruining the integrity of the league. He may be the GOAT of football, but he has nothing on Ben John’s world-class pickleball game,” your date Max passionately states from his spot across from you at the Italian place he had recommended.

Or was his name Mac?

He’d already told you all about the CRBN paddle drama. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had already prepared a PowerPoint presentation on the topic complete with transitions and color-coded charts. He seems the type.

And he had yet to ask you a single question about yourself all evening.

You can tell he is gearing up for the next part of his rant, when your phone lights up on the table, the ringer on higher than you realized.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought I had this on silent. It’s my mom, I should probably take this,” you apologize to him, your phone already halfway raised to your ear.

“Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

“Hi Mom, I’m with someone right now. Is everything ok?” You let a little worry tinge the tone of your voice.

“Seriously?” Rooster drolly rasps on the other end of the line, “Are we actually doing this?”

“Oh no! Is she alright?” You wouldn’t consider yourself actress, but you think you’re really selling the performance with the way you widen your eyes and how you make your voice go a little tighter and higher.

“Yup, seems like we’re really doing this. What’s it this time, kid? Did grandma slip on a banana peel and then get run over by a reindeer?” You can practically feel his eyes rolling as he begrudgingly goes along with you.

“Oh my goodness, that sounds serious! How would that even happen?” you ask, shaking your head in in faux shock determined to really sell the act.

“Is everything ok?” Max-Mac whispers to you from across the table.

His profile didn’t raise any red flags when you’d swiped on him. If anything, he’d seemed a bit more of the beige flag type. Your chats had been fine, he seemed fine, so why not meet up for a date?

What you didn’t realize until it was too late was that “Sports Enthusiast” actually translated to “Pickleball Fanatic”.

“Hold on, Mom,” you hear Rooster scoff as you pull the phone away from your ear. “I’m so sorry, there’s been a family emergency. It’s my grandmother. I really need to go,” you announce to Mac-Max grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. “Thank you so much for understanding. And good luck at your pickleball tournament!” you call back to him as you hustle towards the front door.

“I take it you’ve made your escape?” You can hear the humor in his voice, your antics are nothing new to him.

“Oh my god, was that seriously only thirty minutes? He wouldn’t stop talking about pickleball, Rooster. Anytime I tried to change the subject, he found a way to circle right back to it!” You tell him as you attempt to dig your keys out from where they were buried in your bag. “And then, he pulled up the leg of his jeans and said, I kid you not: ‘Don’t worry, this isn’t an ankle monitor, I’m just wearing my ankle weights.’ Who does that?”

“Just come to the Hard Deck. You should have canceled like I told you to in the first place. Bob and Coyote got back the other day, so everyone’s here. Well, almost everyone,” he says pointedly. “We’re more fun anyways. And Hangman has been harassing me about you, something about your fluke of a win?”

You’d kicked Jake’s ass the last time you played darts with him. Although in his defense, he had been pretty drunk that night and it was a less than fair game since Phoenix would distract him while Fanboy moved your darts on the board.

You wouldn’t be challenging him to a rematch anytime soon. Not unless the odds were in your favor, it was better to keep him on his toes and his ego in check.

Thankful for the princess parking you managed to snag when you first arrived, you unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger seat before climbing in. Breathing out a sigh of relief to be done with Mac-Max once inside.

“You back in your car yet?” Rooster asked. He was such a worrier, but you can’t say it bothered you. You liked knowing he cared.

“Yeah, just got in.”

“Ok good, see you in a few. Drive safe, kid.”

Thirty minutes later Natasha was sliding a cold, frothy pint in front of you with a sympathetic look.

It wasn’t too busy at the Hard Deck yet, but it was still early in the evening. You knew it would pick up soon, and before long Penny would be ringing her bell on some rowdy unsuspecting customer.

“Ankle weights?” She asked, trying and failing to keep from laughing at your expense.

“Seriously, Rooster?” you shoot a glare in his direction, “Where’s the loyalty?”

“What? She was right there when I called you. A request that was your idea, if you remember,” he said as he walked up to you, squeezing your shoulder before sliding his arm around you in greeting. “Plus, it’s not like you don’t already tell Phoenix about all your escapades. You really know how to pick ‘em, kid.”

You’ve known Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw since before you had braces back when you were still wearing your hair in two braids. Your moms had been on the school PTA together at the time and had hit it off immediately.

He hadn’t been too happy about being forced to hang out with the kid who was couple years younger than him, especially one who was so clearly enamored with the cute older boy. While you’d outgrown that phase, for the most part, somethings stuck- like the nickname.

And over the years you’d formed your own bond outside of the forced proximity of your mothers’ friendship.

He’d taught you how to throw a punch, the different ways to pitch a baseball, and to drive a stick shift. You’d taught him how to whistle with his fingers, to play Nerts, and to tie a tie (after asking your dad to teach you).

The give and take was easy with him, you both showed up for the other.

You were there the night he drunkenly fell through the glass patio door at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party. As one of the only sober people there since he wouldn’t let you drink, or let anyone else give you alcohol for that matter, you were the one to take him to the ER. “Don’t worry, kid,” he had slurred, pressing the Washington High t-shirt that you’d found in your trunk to his face to stop the bleeding, “Looks s’worse than it feels.” And you were the one to stay with him as he was stitched up. The evidence of that night still unmistakable on his face.

He was there for you when your parents had sat you down and told you they were getting a divorce. A hurricane of angst and grief, you hadn’t left your room for anything other than school for over a week when he’d let himself in your room one afternoon. Rubbing small circles on your back as he’d let you cry for a bit, he didn’t even tease you about the stains you’d left behind on his shirt. And then he’d herded you into his crappy car and drove you to the slightly sketchy amusement park an hour away with the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant corndogs. And when he’d told you “It’s going to be ok, kid” on the ride back home, you believed him.

You had been there for him when his mom passed, and all during that dark period after when he was set on self-destruction after his fallout with Maverick. While he had tried to push everyone away, you were always the type to hold on tightly to the people that mattered.

And then life had sent you on different directions. First when he went to college and then when you did. Next for him the Navy, and then you with your own career, both of you always in motion. You two shared a connection the way people with a long history do, the kind where you could go months without talking but knowing the other person is always right there if you need them. Your camaraderie sustained by texts, email, and the occasional FaceTime.

A long-distance friendship for over a decade.

So when your boss had approached you about a promotion that was dependent on you relocating to the West Coast, you thanked whatever kismet in the universe had you packing for San Diego where he was permanently stationed.

The break up with your boyfriend at the time was entirely too amicable considering how long you had been together. He was nice, the sex was nice, your life together was nice. You had all but signed the paperwork for your promotion when you told him, but he didn’t see himself as a west-coaster and you couldn’t envision yourself as anything but. Whether you had stayed together all that time out of convenience or complacency, you still couldn’t say.

It was easy to fall back into the comfort of your friendship with Rooster. Although the lanky teen you had known was replaced with a mustache sporting well-built man courtesy of the Navy. One that had left you feeling confusingly flustered on more than one occasion, and forced to cycle through your mental highlight reel of embarrassing teen Rooster moments to keep from your mind from wandering.

He’d helped you find your apartment, taught you about avoiding the 15 Northbound, and showed you where the best place in town to get tacos was. The transition was made easy with him by your side as he introduced you to his team members who quickly folded you into their group as one of their own.

That was a little over a year ago. You liked this new life of yours in San Diego.

And while the dating pool of men you could swipe through was much larger, well, some things never changed.

“You don’t get it, Rooster. You’re surrounded by absurdly hot Naval eye candy all day,” you complained gesturing to Natasha, she raised her beer to you as thanks in response. “While you’re getting women throwing themselves at you because of the gold wings, I’m fighting for my life on these stupid apps where all the men on there are posing with fish. It’s brutal!”

You’d need to officially call things off with Max-Mac later, thinking to yourself how glad you were that you never gave him your real number, and instead signing up for a Google voice number. You were just not cut out for the competitive pickleball lifestyle.

“Bradshaw, why don’t you set her up? It’s not like we don’t know enough people who would be better options than these fish men,” Natasha asked, like it was the most logical thing in the world, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, Bradshaw. Tell Nat your super logical reasons for leaving your longtime friend to fend for herself.” You knew where this was heading, so you took a long swig of the beer Phoenix had brought you.

“Seriously, not this again.” His arm that was around you was removed in favor for pinching the bridge of his nose and looking up to the ceiling like it would spare him from the conversation.

“You started it, now tell her.”

“I need another damn drink if we’re going to do this,” Rooster mumbled.

“Me too,” chimed Natasha, clearly reveling in his misery.

“Make that three. I need to catch up.” You hadn’t even stuck around long enough to get a drink at the restaurant, and now you were ready to let loose a bit.

He grunts out some unintelligible thing and then stalks off to the bar shaking his head.

“I’m an upstanding citizen, I pay my taxes, I make a mean peanut butter brownie, and I always drive him around when the Bronco is in the shop for a tune up. It’s literally the least he could do,” you say to Phoenix as you watch him chat with Penny as she works to grab the fresh bottles.

“Oh, so this is thing,” Natasha says decidedly when she eyes the six beers he’s carrying back to the table, three bottles held by the neck in each of his large hands. His classic Hawaiian shirt fluttering with every step, your eyes briefly drifting down to his defined waist.

“Sure is,” you confirm, drawing out the word. Downing the rest of the beer from your pint glass before reaching for one of the new bottles Rooster was divvying out amongst your trio, “I’ve never asked him for anything-”

“That is a boldfaced lie. And you know it,” he cuts in, as he hands you a granola bar from his pocket, that he must have snagged from Penny. “You definitely asked me to set you up with Kyle Cooke from my baseball team in high school. I didn’t do it then, and I’m not doing it now,” he declared, pointing at you with an accusatory finger to further drive the statement home.

“Reasons being?” Natasha wheedled, a mischievous smirk on her face. You could tell she was eating this up, there were two things Natasha Trace loved most in this world: juicy gossip and giving Rooster a hard time.

Ever the showman, he dramatically lifts up a finger, “First of all, everyone I know is an asshole.”

“I am offended on Bob’s behalf,” you countered, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite, annoyed. Hangman might fit the description, but certainly not Bob.

“Two,” he continues on, raising a second finger, and ignoring you completely as if you hadn’t just made a very valid point, “Let’s say I set you with a friend and then you end up hating them. Then you’ll judge me for being friends with them, we’ll argue, and eventually we won’t be friends anymore. Or even worse, I set you up with someone, you hit it off and date for a while. What happens when you break up? I’m left having to pick sides and walk on eggshells around you guys about the other person.”

“God, you’re such a overthinker. That all sounds totally rational, you drama queen,” you look to Phoenix for agreement, but she’s busy typing out a text message on her phone.

“And three, it’s messy as fuck. And I don’t need to hear about your trophy of a one-night stand.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “That was one time! It wasn’t a trophy it was a gold medal.”

“Wait, what?” Confusion coloring Natasha’s features.

“One time this guy gave me one of those plastic gold medal things on a lanyard, kind of like the ones they give out at kids soccer games, after we hooked up. I mean, kicked him out right away, but I did keep the medal. It was a good confidence boost,” you shrug. It wasn’t exactly a high point moment for you.

After that encounter you’d definitely started scrutinizing every profile a bit harder before swiping right, or at least you thought you had been. In your defense, at least Max-Mac’s profile didn’t have a fish photo, but the bar was still clearly on the ground.

“I knew you when you wore those shirts with that big mouthed monkey on them. And that’s the kind of shit I don’t need to know about. I don’t wanna be involved. Not gonna happen, kid,” his declaration resolute.

“Well, that sure is something, Bradshaw,” Natasha states, giving him a curious look.

“What are y’all over here discussing so intently,” Hangman questions as he saddles up to your little group, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“We were just getting into the finer details of the kid’s dating life and how I am going to fix it by setting her up with this great guy I know,” she pronounces, looking all too pleased with herself. A truly self-satisfied grin gracing her face.

Natasha Trace was probably the most bad ass person you’ve ever met, so the idea of her setting you up with someone had you sitting up straighter on the stool you were seated on, “Really?”

“Who?” Rooster demands, frowning at her.

“Yeah, I mean Bradshaw clearly has his convictions, and I respect that. However, I’m an excellent wing-woman. Seriously, I don’t know why I haven’t thought about introducing you guys before. You two would be perfect together.”

Hangman never one to miss an opportunity to rile up Rooster is quick to jump in, “Just because you fly in a two-seater doesn’t make you a good wing-woman, Phoenix. However, now that you mention it, I have a buddy who might knock your socks off. Unless you’d rather just knock boots, I’m sure he’d be up for whatever you wanted,” he shooting you a wink. “I think I’ll toss my name in the ring here too. After all, I’m very good.”

“You want to make it a bet, Bagman?” Her accent always got a little more pronounced when she went toe to toe with him.

“What’re you thinkin’, Darlin’?” he drawls suggestively with a sharp smile. That ever-present toothpick being rolled in his mouth from side to side.

“You guys are not going to be making bets around the kid’s love life,” Rooster snaps.

“The big dogs are talking, Bradshaw,” Hangman taunts as he waves him off.

“$50 entry? The dates happen here and at the end the kid picks which date was the best. Winner takes all?” You can see the competitive gleam in her eye.

“Alright, alright. Works for me, Phoenix. I can’t wait to take your money.”

“The hell you are,” Rooster barks, still trying to regain control of the quickly spiraling situation.

Well, this had certainly taken a turn.

You find yourself reaching for your third beer of the night.

And you’re even more surprised when Hangman hollers for the rest of the team to join, and before you know it your dating life takes centerstage as the subject of the bet between the group of competitive naval aviators. Many of the others deciding to join in, never ones to shy away from a bit of rivalry.

“What do you say? You up for it?” Natasha asks, wanting to make sure you were still on board now that her original offer had taken on a life of its own.

You look over and see Rooster looking at you like you’d be crazy to get involved in their kind of chaos. You know he can already tell what your answer will be.

“Why not?” you agree cheerily as he groans into his beer.

At least you would be spared from swiping for a while. It’s what you deserve, you are an upstanding citizen after all.

Get ready for some dates! Part 2

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me bounce ideas off of you!

Edit: I’ve started a tag list for Part 2! Just let me know if you’d like to be added!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

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queen-simia · 28 days ago

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now that ep 4 is live to the public, I can finally post what I've been sitting (and spinning) on for like a week, wheeee!

Major Monkey Wrench spoilers abound, so putting below a cut if you haven't yet seen the latest episode. And if you haven't seen it (or the rest of the series), you can do so here:

now ON TO THE INFODUMP

Shrike's status

so, since the beginning, I've been putting all my money on Shrike being an artificial being. Not in the sense of robotics/cyborgs and the like, but in the sense of a one-of-a-kind bioengineered creature. Since he was confirmed as an endling (as opposed to just hinted at in past episodes), I'm choosing to take that as a bit of reinforcement; his species is still marked as "unknown" by LAW, and if no one knows what you are and you're the only one they've ever seen, it's safe to assume they assume you're the last of whatever you are.

now, in a leap on my part, I'm further going to postulate that Shrike is actually an engineered squid. As in an honest-to-god Earth cephalopod, albeit in the same sense you can call a human a monkey. I think that maybe our boy Shrike is the end result of years-long genetic modification and breeding programs to create something closer to human shape and intelligence, but with whatever attributes his human creators wanted from squid...

...maybe attributes like producing ink.

"that's stupid, what makes you think that?" Glad you asked, Strawman! Here's what I'm drawing from:

Scratch's nicknames for Shrike

As much as these can be considered throwaways, Zeurel and Ash have been very good about sneaking in foreshadowing in dialogue. I don't fully think Scratch is calling Shrike "squidhead" just to be antagonistic (though in-universe, he certainly is; I doubt the character himself in canon has that kind of insight); I'm choosing to believe it may be a bit of a Chekhov's gun.

Shrike's design inspiration

In Tumblr ask replies, Zeurel's confirmed Shrike's design is based heavily on Humboldt squid, and he finds cephalopods and deep-sea life in general interesting. It's going into meta rather than narrative precedent, but I think for these reasons, having Shrike actually be an ascended squid wouldn't be that far out of the blue.

Shrike's terran connections

It's been established that Earth no longer exists, and what humans remain are persona non grata in LAW space. They're the reason behind the Cataclysm/the creation of Secondary Green, and what artifacts remain are traded on the black market (as implied by Scratch and Jaw Bone dealing in them, neither of whom are exactly upstanding citizens).

Yet somehow, Shrike speaks primarily in a canonically dead Earth language—Latin Spanish—and thinks highly of terrans/terran culture. He apparently is the only being in LAW space who does both. One could argue he picked up Spanish through exposure to contraband as a LAW officer, but even his translated speech is Spanish-accented. That to me is a clue it's his native language, as opposed to one picked up later in life. Maybe he doesn't speak it all that well, but it's what he learned as he grew up.

I believe that Shrike's interest in terran artifacts isn't so much fannish as it is nostalgic, though he doesn't realize it (yet). Remember, we don't know his true age—he's only estimated to be in his mid- to late 20s. He could very well be several decades or even 800+ years old, and for reasons yet unknown he isn't aware of it. Hell, he knows what VHS tapes are and how to watch them, something present-day kids are unfamiliar with right now. Even if he was treated as only a scientific specimen in his youth, something about Earth/its people may have been warm and familiar enough to endear terran mementos to him. But it's now too far gone in the past for him to remember why exactly he loves them so much.

Shrike got no dick

(originally posted to Twitter before the Shittening)

Canonically, the boy is Ken-doll smooth both front and back. Even though he has a gender (Questionably Masc™), he has no sex. Maybe his species could reproduce asexually, but it's pretty unusual for complex bipedal critters to do that. Plus, there's the fact that no peehole and no butthole also mean no bodily waste excretion, which is pretty much a death sentence for most life forms that run on metabolic processes. Therefore, I'm taking all these as artifacts of Shrike's artificial creation (and not just so it's more difficult to make show-accurate porn of him).

The Primaries, LAW, and Secondary Green

So there are three godlike beings that ostensibly also serve as the basis for government, referred to as the Primaries. Only one has been directly referenced as active in LAW government—Primary Red—but given the colors of the three LAW divisions, one can safely assume there must be a Primary Yellow and Primary Blue (whether they also govern, are off doing something else, or are AWOL is a mystery for now). It also just so happens that interstellar travel takes place in subspace pathways in the same colors as the Primaries (with varying speed depending on color), and spacecraft is fueled by "ink" in those corresponding primary colors.

It's also revealed in a news chyron in ep 4 that an intergalactic-capable drive had been in development (and had been stalled by bureaucracy) for at least 20 years, and is now ready to deploy. It's referred to as a Trinity drive, and required Primary Red's approval before it could officially launch. I think it's pretty safe to assume it's a form of propulsion that combines all 3 colors, however the in-universe physics work in that case. At the moment, it's been shown that using the wrong type of ink in a color drive will cause an explosion and a tear in space at best (at worst, we don't know yet), so whatever science went into developing a drive that combines colors must have been fairly dangerous (or potentially threatens to weaken whatever power the Primaries hold over LAW citizens).

Secondary Green

Background details are vital lore sources in Monkey Wrench. If you paid close attention near the beginning of ep 1 (and can easily read backwards text), you already know what's in the box the boys pick up in ep 2: something called "Secondary Green." It was evidently once in Chester's possession, but by the time Kara caught up to him, he'd already sent it on its way to LAW.

The second and third episodes refer to the Cataclysm being caused by terrans. The third episode explains the green corruption's effect on life forms, and LAW subsequently quarantining it to prevent its spread. It also shows Secondary Green corrupting the bit of Them that gets too close into the horrific black-green monster that overtakes the Bucket. The fourth ep has Jaw Bone directly refer to the terrans' "false idol" in reference to the Cataclysm.

While I was typing later paragraphs, I hit upon a possibility I hadn't even considered for what Secondary Green could be. So now, I've got 2 potential reads:

1. Secondary Green was the humans' attempt at recreating the Primaries' power for themselves. Whether this was to undermine LAW or to try to join the galactic stage at the Primaries' level has yet to be seen, but either way, it ended up biting humanity in the ass. Secondary Green and/or a byproduct of it/its creation ended up destroying Earth and a good chunk of its neighboring Milky Way space, and landed whatever humans remain squarely on LAW's shit list.

Now, those of you who remember me from pre-2018 Tumblr also know I'm pretty heavily into Mass Effect. That universe's version of the Milky Way also was governed by an alien-run coalition: the Citadel, which tightly controlled the means to interstellar travel (although the Citadel species did not create these means, they just found and activated them first). Thus, the similarities to the idea of a three-pronged alien government holding the keys to interstellar travel and commerce and forcing you to play nice if you want in have been resonating in the back of my mind whenever I watch Monkey Wrench.

The similarities end in that MW's answer to the Protheans are still very much alive and active, and are directly overseeing galactic travel, commerce, and government. There aren't established mass relays, but every ship contains its own "relay" in the form of ink drives. These can open portals into respective colors of subspace to get from one side of the galaxy to another faster than conventional propulsion (so far, red is the fastest, and blue seems to be the median speed everyday schmoes like our boys can access). And, most importantly, the means of this travel are less an external technological development and more appear to be tied to the nature of the Primaries themselves; these beings are not just obeyed, but worshiped (see Scratch's oaths in ep 3 and the red officer greeting Shrike and Armstrong exchange in ep 4).

However, there are still two very important similarities between these two settings that I think should be kept in mind:

i. Trouble started when humans started sticking their fingers into the galactic government's pie. In Mass Effect, it was shoehorning Shepard into the Spectre program and wriggling humanity's way into the Citadel Council. In Monkey Wrench, it was messing with fundamental forces it didn't yet understand and (maybe) creating human-made Great Value primaries, which resulted in at least one: Secondary Green.

ii. Control over interstellar travel—specifically, access to subspace—is a cornerstone of power. In Mass Effect, you need a specific form of reactor in order to engage the mass relays and "cheat" your way to FTL travel. These relays are heavily guarded and regulated by the Citadel; humanity famously learned this when it activated Relay 314 near Pluto and got a knock-knock from the police in the form of a turian armada. In Monkey Wrench, you need to equip specific color drives and fuel up at ink stations, which presumably are subject to LAW regulation and pricing.

In both settings, Earth appears to have taken a look at the galaxy already being run by someone else and immediately thought, "but how do I get around this?"

Engineering Secondary Green was MW Earth's answer to this question. Unfortunately, it backfired and drove humanity to (functional) extinction and criminal status.

2. Secondary Green is an unintended fusion of Primaries Yellow and Blue. This would explain their current-day absence (provided they don't directly appear in later episodes), and the subsequent fall of LAW enforcement into disorder that Armstrong alludes to in ep 4. Humanity was up to something that attracted the Primaries' attention—perhaps tapping into pocket dimensions, like the one embedded in Shrike's head?—and maybe things went awry. One way or another, Primaries Yellow and Blue's intervention ended in them fusing into a new anti-entity, Secondary Green. Instead of fostering life, their combined and imbalanced power corrupted it.

Left to their own devices (and likely hawkish methods, given Red oversees enforcement), Primary Red sealed off Earth's part of the galaxy and declared humanity LAW's enemy. The quarantine for justifiable safety/life preservation reasons, the outlawing likely to create the narrative that humanity was entirely to blame and not at all any fault of Primary interference (and maybe some vengeance for losing their comrades).

Or maybe, Red is covering their tracks.

LAW and Order

So the League of Aligned Worlds (LAW—yes, it's an acronym) is the current empire ruling civilized space in the Milky Way galaxy, under direct command of the Primaries (or at least Primary Red). There are three established branches: enforcement/military (red, which Shrike was once and has since defected from), science (yellow, which Dr. Agness impersonated), and commerce (blue, as represented by Killix and Sixty-Two, who appear to be led by an as-yet unseen Commander Tezzoree).

Being a centralized civilization, LAW has certain cultural and legal standards it expects its citizens to observe. Commerce and community are enabled by way of implanted universal translators á là Star Trek, but with one specific caveat: swearing is not allowed. It's so not allowed that it's physically punishable through painful translator auditory feedback—interestingly, people in earshot get punished this way as well just for hearing it.

Maybe it's a form of socialization, in that LAW hopes you're nice enough not to want to hurt your fellow citizens by swearing? Or that your fellow citizens, having had pain inflicted on them, will browbeat you into compliance? Either way, it's a window into current LAW space being severely authoritarian in both the moral and legal senses.

This extreme authoritarian approach doesn't prevent corruption, however. Corporate lobbyists exist, as demonstrated by Chester in ep 1, and LAW officials patronizing vice industries like sex work (see the end of ep 3) is not unusual. And current LAW is disorganized to the point of each division being largely ignorant of what's going on in the others: Neither Killix nor Sixty-Two were aware Shrike is a defector, nor do they bat an eye at him admitting as such. Armstrong is able to impersonate a red officer with either stolen or purchased equipment, and even he's astonished that LAW keeps such loose tabs on itself that they still have Shrike registered as an active officer. Dr. Agness is able to get away with impersonating a LAW scientist, and the LAW representatives who collect her don't appear especially ruffled by it.

It's possible that this rigid adherence to authority and subsequent breakdown in the ability to enforce it is due to Primary Red being the only Primary left. The harder you clench your fist, the more sand slips through your fingers, and all that. However it happened, Red is at the moment the only one at the wheel, and they don't seem to be able to keep it together on their own.

aight, so where's this leave us

so for now, I think these are where we may be headed:

a: Shrike was genetically engineered to be in the running as a peer to/defense against the Primaries, but aligned with Earth. He has a means to access a pocket dimension/subspace, could possibly be a source of ink (either as secretion or in the form of his blood), is an exceptional marksman, and possesses anthropomorphic form and (allegedly) intellect. The problem is, he turned out anti-authoritarian, impulsive, and kinda stupid. He was disposed of at some point and now wanders space as the only one of his kind.

b: The same program that produced Shrike also created Secondary Green. Unfortunately, something happened—whether through accident or external manipulation—that turned it into a rampaging force of destruction. We have yet to see whether humans really did just monumentally fuck up, or if LAW is rewriting history.

c: LAW is on its way to collapse through Primary Red's mismanagement. Whether said mismanagement is through the other Primaries going missing on their own, or through a power grab on Red's part is the main mystery.

hooray done for now oh god

#long post #monkey wrench #monkey wrench spoilers #really fuckin' long post

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sporkfingers · 1 year ago

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Some Tang Sanzang concept art that I don’t think I’ll finish anytime soon, but whateva

The scar on his head is from a spat with wukong gone wrong, spur of the moment which he regretted after he realized what he had done-

he waited for his sifu to use the fillet tightening sultra to punish him, he’s shaking, apologizing profusely in a small voice. To his surprise he doesn’t feel the painstaking ache of the band squeezing. Instead, when he looks up he finds Tripitaka, his sifu, looking at him with a horrified look on his face. But…. He’s not scared of wukong… he’s scared of himself, if he could cause such a reaction in this godly simian, a demon that the heavens feared, then…what he had been doing…it wasn’t right, it couldn’t be.

-Lololol that’s my head canon/ my own home brew story of Jttw that I’ve been making in my mind, I like to imagine that’s the point where they’re relationship starts to turn for the better and instead of reluctant companions they become friends who wish to protect each other in every way, no matter the cost. They are representative of the mind and the heart, like in most cases they clash and argue, resent and fear each other, but when finding balance and harmony throughout their journey the mind and heart grow closer and work as one. They’re relationship to me is something more than friendship, it’s love but not romantic love, but it’s also not familial love like a father and son, though some translations of the book describe their relationship as such I’d like to think of it as something deeper. Again not romantic kissy love. These babes are Buddhists lololol but it is more than friendship. I might post my version of the story on here and you can interpret as you please, father son, a couple, friends, enemies. But know that in the end what him and sun wukong have is complex, it can not be summed up in one word. At least that’s my take on them,

Also the other scars are from demons, getting captured and such, the scar between his eyebrows he got as a baby, and the read on his wrists are from rope burn, again from being tied up and captured.

I like to see the monk as having a fit build despite acting and appearing weak, though he does not know what to do with this rocking bod he has. (This drawing was inspired by gidget… I loved their reference for their tang and decided I would make my own concept sheet depicting his scars and body type as well.)

I want to start posting my dynamic stuff on here and actually drawing my Jttw ideas… I just get really perfectionist about them and end up only liking the art after a year goes by and it’s too late to post them….

If you made it here tell me what you think, I’ve spent like 5 minutes writing this and my cat is chirping angrily at me cause she wants me to pet her lolololol so pouty, my cute baby is throwing a fit

Sorry if you think these takes are trash it’s just my headcanons, they might change overtime though

#jttw #journey to the west #tang sanzang #tripitaka #jttw tripitaka #jttw tang sanzang #jttw fanart

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samiiy20 · 11 months ago

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𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Song mingi x fem!reader 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗲: Smut 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.9k 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: masturbation,voyeurism, unprotected sex (don't do it), reader is older than Mingi (but only by a couple of years)

You were hoping to have a quiet night of relaxation with yourself, but an unexpected visitor knocks on your door and changes your plans.

N/A: I know I promised Yeosang's story, but I was thinking that maybe it will be some kind of series that connects with the other members, but rest assured I will do it. Just wait for it soon <3

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

The day had been a disaster. That morning when you finally woke up and noticed something unusual, you checked your phone, only to realize that the alarm didn't wake you up on time. You missed the first two classes at the university where you happened to see important topics for the exam, but everything got worse at work, where your boss came up with the brilliant idea of assigning you a difficult project for the weekend. And when you finally got to the room you were renting so you could eat something, you realized that you hadn't gone to the supermarket and there was nothing.

“This couldn't be worse,” you whispered to yourself as you lay down on the bed.

Maybe there was a way to get all the stress out of your body. Cheering up a little, you opened your closet drawer and took out a toy. You needed to distract yourself and forget your frustrations, you deserved it for surviving a shitty day.

You smiled, settling down on the bed and abandoning your shorts somewhere on the floor. You sighed, clearing your thoughts and spread your legs, turning on the toy. You rested your head on the pillows when you felt the contact of the toy on your core and you began to relax, but when you were starting to forget everything you heard a knock on the door.

You screamed inside, angry you got up looking for your shorts and hid the vibrator under the sheets. The doorbell wouldn't stop ringing and if it didn't stop you would greet whoever was waiting with a knock, but when you opened the door all your thoughts were erased.

“Mingi?” The anger disappeared and now you just felt confused, you didn't expect to see him here, especially so late "What are you doing here?"

“Hello, I didn't want to bother you but…” her words were suspended in the air when she noticed what you were wearing.

“Let me guess, Yunho?” He nodded, scratching his head awkwardly when he noticed your clothing, but you didn't notice his eyes running over your shoulders or focusing on the silhouette of your breasts. You sighed, cursing your brother, “That idiot.”

“I didn't know where to go… it's already late and” You sighed defeated and felt a little sorry for him, your night of pleasure could wait.

“Don't talk anymore, come in” you stepped aside letting him enter.

It wasn't the first time Mingi came to your house when Yunho decided to bring someone into the apartment they shared and even though he had promised not to do it he broke his promise too soon.

"I'm sorry"

“Leave the drama, it's not that big of a deal,” you responded, hitting him on the arm, “do you want to sleep?”

“I don't know” You noticed that he was more nervous than normal, but you didn't understand why and you stood in front of him, challenging him, putting your hands on your hips.

"What's the matter?" Mingi looked at you once and tried to just see your face, but since you opened the door he saw through your light pajamas (if you could call them that) and noticed that you weren't wearing a bra, plus the shorts. …well they were too short.

He didn't want to think about you that way, you were his friend's sister, plus you were older than him and he blamed himself for coming here, you were too kind to let a pervert like him pass that the only thing he thought about It was in your body.

“It's just that Yunho… worries me,” he said, trying to focus his attention on something else.

You sighed giving up and walking to the kitchen to make some tea thinking it would calm him down.

“Me too” Mingi stayed where he was resisting the urge to turn around to see your figure “that girl is just playing with him, I'm sure” you passed him the cup of tea and smiled when he took it, noticing that he calmed down a little "Besides, it's not fair that I leave you out"

Mingi nodded, tasting the hot drink as they passed into the small room. You sat on the couch in front of him without noticing that he became tense and you put your feet up on the table in front of you, settling down to pass the time.

They didn't talk much and Mingi forced himself to talk, but your bare legs distracted him for a while, imagining how soft your skin was and how it would feel if he kissed it, he wondered what face you would make if he ran his hands over your breasts and then kissed your breasts neck, he wondered how he would feel if he put his…

He put those thoughts out of his mind, it wasn't the first time he had them, but he had managed to contain himself well until now, he set limits and stopped thinking about you talking to other girls, but sometimes, certain nights, when the memory of you It tormented him, he couldn't resist massaging himself thinking about you.

He shifted in his seat, but he was already tense enough and having you around wasn't helping him.

“I'm dying of sleep,” he whispered, interrupting your conversation. “I think I better go.”

You looked at the clock and got up to stop him. It was too late, you were worried that he would leave in the middle of the night, plus you didn't want to accept it, but you enjoyed his company more than you should.

"Stay"

Mingi could have refused and stopped the trouble he had started having in his pants, but seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed and your lips curled he didn't find the courage to say no.

After leaving him a pillow and some blankets, Mingi prepared to get comfortable on the couch. The lights went out and he closed his eyes to avoid thinking about the smell you had left in the room.

You went to your room and lay down on the bed trying to fall asleep, but something kept you restless. You shifted on the bed until you felt something under you and you pulled it out, embarrassed for forgetting that you had the dildo hidden.

Suddenly the idea that you had had from the beginning came back, you still felt tense and you knew that you wouldn't be able to sleep well tonight, but a part of you was fighting to contain itself, you were not alone and you liked the idea that Mingi could hear you, but you liked it. You were sure that he wouldn't like someone older like you, plus he was your brother's friend.

You closed your eyes, everything was silent, it seemed as if no one was around. You bit your lip and without thinking much you opened your legs, moving your hand down your abdomen until you reached your clothed pussy. You ran your fingers gently over your clit, rubbing it in circles and sank further into the bed.

You slowly increased your movements as you felt your slickness seeping through the fabric. You bit your lips and closed your eyes imagining that your fingers were someone else's as you took off your shorts and directly touched your soaked pussy, forgetting a little that you were not alone and you moaned.

Mingi was restless and although he tried to sleep he was distracted when he heard a strange noise, at first he was scared thinking it was something but when he heard it repeated constantly, curiosity took over him. He got up and walked silently to your room where something could be heard on the other side. A ragged breath and moans reached his head causing him to freeze with his hand on the door.

He rubbed his eyes thinking that he was still dreaming, but when another moan was heard he couldn't do anything. His entire body tensed and he felt a slight pressure in his crotch that wanted to be addressed, his head was hallucinating and his senses had stopped working. It was wrong to stay and listen to you but he couldn't move. He sighed, running his hand over his pants as he pressed his ear to the door and held onto his cock.

It wasn't enough, he needed to see how you gave yourself pleasure, to see how you moaned and joined your fingers up to the knuckles in your pussy. He bit his lip, doubting whether he should turn the knob, but his instincts seemed to react first and he just peeked through the small crack.

Your back was arched and your legs were shaking as your fingers pumped your pussy over and over again, you moaned desperately, biting the sheets to try to silence yourself. Mingi stayed still recording that image in his head for later but when he saw your shiny pussy and your heavy breathing he couldn't contain himself and let out a loud moan.

You had been aware that you might wake Mingi up, but that was your plan and when you heard footsteps outside you moaned louder for him to open the door, you smiled when you heard the low squeak and arched your back sticking your fingers into your pussy, you were close and Knowing that he was watching you helped you elevate the sensation, letting your pleasure release with one last moan.

“Mingi…”

The boy stopped his movements holding his breath, had you moaned his name? What should he do? Have you seen it? Should he run away? but he couldn't answer any of that when he saw your silhouette moving on the bed.

“I know you're behind the door.” Mingi still didn't move, trying to process everything you said, but he wasn't expecting your words. “Are you going to watch or come help me?”

Mingi's head spun, he must have been dreaming, there were no more explanations. The way everything was being too good couldn't be true, but, if it wasn't true it didn't matter at all, right?

Mingi hesitated for a moment, fighting in his head and shouting that this was wrong, that you were his friend's sister, but he gathered his courage and opened the door completely. You smiled when you saw him, leaning on your elbows to notice how his eyes roamed around your naked body you opened your legs even more, letting him see every part of your pussy and you bit your mouth as you watched him run his tongue over his lips.

“Did you plan all this on purpose?” His voice became deep and his eyes darkened a little as they met yours as you closed your legs and stood up to walk to where he was.

His eyes didn't leave your body the entire time, he was fighting not to grab you and throw you onto the bed, but he remained calm when he felt your hand on his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut as you ran your fingers over his lips giving him a small taste of your taste.

“You should apologize for invading my privacy darling” you saw him salivate and as he parted his lips to lick the tips of your fingers “you're a bad boy” you continued putting your fingers in his mouth when he started breathing harder and harder.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, connecting his gaze with yours for a moment and moving away a little.

“Show me,” you said, standing on tiptoe to be at the height of his mouth. “Show how sorry you are.”

Mingi didn't wait any longer and he left all doubtful thoughts of him behind. He grabbed your waist and brought your bodies together while he kissed your mouth.

You moaned in surprise, letting him take you to the bed, letting his hands run over your butt and squeeze it hard.

You leaned your head back and arched your body as his mouth descended on your neck and you felt him mark your skin with soft bites. You ran your hands over his chest trying to get rid of his shirt but before you could do anything he threw you on the bed and placed himself on top of you.

His eyes were lost in yours for a moment before he placed short kisses on your breasts, sucking on the skin and passing his tongue over your nipples, making your skin crawl. You let yourself be carried away by the sensation of his mouth slowly going down your abdomen until it reached your thighs and you felt his hands caress the inside of your legs, playing a little with your pussy.

“Min…”

“I want to know every part of your splendid body” he whispered as he brought his mouth closer to the middle of your legs “I want to taste you and feel the pleasure through you” his words made you sigh, no one had ever spoken to you that way.

There was no time to respond when you let out a moan as you felt his tongue in your pussy, your back arched as he began to play with your clit and his fingers caressed your entrance. You felt like you were pressing against nothing and you were already feeling the rush inside you from the overstimulation. You grabbed his hair, urging him to continue licking your pussy and you felt his tongue go faster when he inserted a finger to add to your pleasure but it was not enough.

You closed your legs, crushing his head in between but Mingi didn't complain, he felt like he was in heaven when he felt your flesh crushing him at the same time he tasted your slick. His tongue was fast and his finger lightly touched your g-spot making it torture, tears gathered on your face as you felt so close to orgasm, but suddenly everything stopped.

Mingi withdrew knowing that he couldn't stand it any longer with his cock in his pants either. You saw him undress and you did not hide your astonishment when you saw his worked body, but what surprised you the most was his cock. The tip of it was red and leaking precum and you couldn't help but lick your lips, which he noticed making his cock even harder.

“Fuck me” Mingi smiled, leaning over you, taking the base of his cock and passing it over your clit. “Please…” he left the tip at your entrance and focused on your face while he grabbed your hips tightly and slowly introduced his thick cock inside you making you moan from feeling so full.

“Fuck… it feels so good” Mingi moaned when he saw their joined bodies. He leaned over you and wiped away a tear you had shed, pressing his lips together in a passionate kiss, feeling his tongue and your taste in your mouth.

His hands caressed the outside of your legs and lowered them to your thighs to raise one leg over his body and let it rest on one of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs and smiled before starting to move his hips crashing against yours, you moaned into his mouth as you felt his cock throb through you. You placed your hands on his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin as he picked up a faster pace.

Mingi could die right now, he had dreamed about you so many times and now that he was buried deep inside your tight pussy he felt like he was in fucking hell. His body was burning and he could only focus on the image of your face while he watched your marked tits bounce with each thrust. He couldn't stand it for long if you continued to squeeze him like that.

“I'm close,” he whispered, feeling his cock throb.

You looked at his body for a moment, taking in his muscles and the small beads of sweat on his chest.

“Do it, I want all of you Min” your warm voice combined with the nickname made Mingi tremble and leave your legs, you received him in your chest as you felt the client liquid seeping inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and stroked his hair, letting yourself be carried away by the feeling of his semen spilling down your thighs.

Silence took over the room for a moment, you kept your eyes closed feeling Mingi's body on yours and her breath on your neck. You weren't sure how this would change the relationship you had with him and how it would affect his relationship with your Yunho, but you didn't want to think about that now.

“Min…” the boy raised his head, resting his hands on the sides of your head.

“I know…” they both looked at each other sharing the blame for a moment until he caressed your cheek “we should go take a shower” he confessed making you laugh a little to cut the tension of the moment.

“Okay” you held hands as you walked, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed yourself against his lips “only if you promise to fuck me again pretty boy”

“You're corrupting me,” Mingi blurted out so seriously with red cheeks that you almost forgot the way he had just fucked you in bed.

They laughed on their way to the bathroom without hearing any of the forgotten ringing phones while Yunho sighed angrily at the missed calls they left him.

#mingi #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi ateez #ateez #ateez smut #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #mingi hard hours #ateez hard hours #mingi x you #ateez imagines #ateez x you #mingi x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #smut

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maleyanderecafe · 1 year ago

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Yandere Killing!! ~When I told my obsessive childhood friend, "I love you too," she shifted to the romantic comedy route~(Manga)

Created by: Toyama Monaka/Kazuichi

Genre: Smut

The continual descent into translating yandere stuff continues. This one only has one chapter out for me to translate so far, so really the only last maybe 10 pages have any semblance of smut. Still though, the artwork for this one is very pretty and I am so happy with the way that I typefaced this one like you will not believe how clean it is compared to other ones I've translated.

The story starts out with a man named Isogi begging in front of Miyoshi to take him back after he cheated on her with another girl. Miyoshi of course bluntly rejects him, stating that the one thing he cannot forgive is cheating to which Isogi is dragged away. After that, her coworkers get worried about her and she continues her work at the coffee shop, only to meet up with another man named Ohara who asks if the two of them will be eating dinner tonight. Ohara and Miyoshi are childhood friends and have a tendency to eat together with her sister Ryoka. Outside, Isogi stalks Miyoshi until Ohara comes to "have a talk with him". At night, it seems Ohara is late and Miyoshi and Ryoka eat together instead, before Ryoka turns in for the night warning Miyoshi to be more careful when it comes to Ohara. Ohara comes over to eat and we see that Miyoshi has had a long time crush on him, however, feels that he has no interest in him because of an event that happened when she was in high school. At work, Tayaka ends up proposing to Miyoshi after she laments about her ex for a bit promising that he will be loyal, however, is interrupted by Ohara. Ohara seems pretty pissed which leads to Miyoshi feeling depressed about this fact as she still has a crush on him. Not wanting this to eat her, she tries to call Ohara so that she can confess to him, even if she feels he won't reciprocate. However, while attempting to do so, her sister ends up calling her instead, warning that Ohara is right behind her before Ohara takes her phone. Ohara is extremely jealous and starts to touch her. talking about how Isogi and Tayaka don't deserve her before basically mating pressing her at the end.

Basically I think that the plot of this smut (I mean most smuts barely have a plot, fair enough) was pretty intriguing until the very end of this chapter where everything escalates way too fast. I guess considering the title states it goes into a comedic route that might be the reason why? Hard to tell with just the first chapter though. Also because we know that the male lead is a yandere at all times, the misunderstanding of her not realizing that Ohara does have a huge crush on him is pretty like...well, the dramatic irony is not lost on me, I suppose. Still, I did think that the entire thing with Sayuki's drive to not try to get back together with someone who cheated is pretty good, although I'm not sure why she feels like that since we don't know if she's actually had problems with cheaters in the past (before Isogi) and I feel (?) like it's pretty standard for people to not get back with someone who has cheated on them if there is not reason to (like having kids or being financially dependent on them for instance). Like I said though, the ending of that is pretty confusing- how did Sayuki's sister Ryoka know that Ohara was right behind her and why did she call in the first place? I mean, I know Ryoka was pretty much the only person who knew the two liked each other, but how did she know he was coming for her? And like. I don't understand why Ohara didn't just try to confess to her in the first place if he likes her so dang much anways, especially since it did seem like the two of them were close. Again though, this is a smut so it's not like the plot is the most important part of this story, there's just a lot of things going on that don't really have an explanation now.

That being said, this artwork is very pretty and it does a good job with the yandere expressions that we did get. Hopefully as more chapters come out that I can translate we can figure out what is going on in this story.

#Yandere Killing!! ~When I told my obsessive childhood friend “I love you too” she shifted to the romantic comedy route~#male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #manga #ongoing

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shunin-gumis · 6 months ago

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L4mps Main Story Translation

Designs of Happiness A01

Title: ep.1 Well-being by myself

Characters: Nagi

Summary: One night, an interesting radio show could be heard at the Flower Laundry...

JP Proofreading: aca @463ce6 on twt EN Proofreading: jes @arcanecrayonn on twt

No matter how hard I try, a worthless person like me could never trace after the path to "happiness" that everyone else gets to experience.

As the gentle loneliness of the night envelops me, I drift between fleeting moments of happiness, barely holding on to see the next day.

-It was one of those days.

Location - Flower Laundry

Voice from the Radio: Coming to you live from HAMA Studio no.3-

Arisa: It's Arisa and~

Teresa: Teresa's~

Arisa and Teresa: Intelli-radio: Aristotle~*

Nagi: Sonia, could you turn up the volume?

Sonia: Okay~

Teresa: The rain sure isn't letting up huh?

Arisa: True~ It's quiet but it's perfect for getting some me-time in, whether it's to study or get some reading done.

Arisa: As we were talking about before the commercial break, forgive us if we go on too long on the mechanisms of achieving Happiness, just blame it on this lovely night we're having~

Sonia: ...

Sonia: Nagi-shan, you've been working on your bike all this time, but you made sure to eat dinner, yesh?

Nagi: Eh? ... Ah.

Nagi: Now that you mention it, I might be really hungry right now.

Sonia: Geez~

Sonia: You're still in the middle of work, so I'll get you shumthing you can eat with one hand.

Nagi: Thank you, Sonia. If you weren't around, I'm sure I would've ended up a mummy by now.

Nagi: "A mummy was discovered in the middle of the city!" Could Flower Laundry possibly be the next new hot spot...

Sonia: Don't say shumthing so ominous. It's exactly to prevent unfortunate people like you from ending up in such sad situations that helper robots like me were created.

Sonia: Pleash wash your hands and wait there.

Nagi: When did it get so late...

Nagi: I should get the bike back in the garage for now...

Arisa: While countries and corporations were competing between themselves for economic growth, the end result was that most of our environment was destroyed, and resources dried up in the blink of an eye.

Arisa: Did humanity manage to achieve true prosperity after this? Was it worth the cost? The answer is a resounding "No". Although the country's GDP* has increased four, or even five-fold, the happiness-index has flatlined for the past 100 years or so.

Teresa: Wait, really? A 100 years ago, people couldn't even have their clothes dry automatically, right? They also had to wash the dishes by hand... No way, that reminds me, they even had to vacuum the dust off the floor themselves or something right..?

Arisa: I think they'd still be using brooms about a 100 years ago?

Teresa: No way~ That's way too retro for me! I can't imagine life without all the smart appliances we have now. I mean, a world with no food-printers? Yikes.

Sonia: Here you go, "fresh" off the food-printer...

Nagi: Right on time.

Sonia: On time?

Nagi: I was just talking to myself. Thanks for the meal.

Arisa: Okay, I get how much you love your smart appliances, but do all these materialistic things truly fill your heart? Does it really let you sleep better at night?

Teresa: Hmm, you do have a point. The more convenient things get, the more it feels like the world is telling me to be time and cost-efficient, but before I even realize it, I'm already doom-scrolling on dazzle*...

Arisa: "More convenience! More income!" Such concepts are shoved in our faces constantly... How about trying to remove ourselves from this endless equation? There's quite a few factions amongst the younger generation who never expected much from society nor themselves...

Teresa: Sorry, that's just not for me. Chasing after your dreams, working towards your goals: those are the things that make life worth living. Growing as you compete with others is part of it too. And then when you finally get your hands on the things you've always wanted with your own effort... It doesn't get better than that.

Arisa: That's right. That's why people have come up with a strategy guide-

Arisa: The era of learning the Psychology of Happiness is upon us!

Teresa: The Psychology of Happiness?

Nagi: What's that?

Sonia: Oh! There's a response on the shop's PeChat*, hm...

Sonia: Nagi-shan, we just got an order. The customer will be coming by in ten minutes to pick it up.

Sonia: They're requesting a bouquet that can cheer up their girlfriend who's feeling down about making a mistake at work.

Nagi: ―

Sonia: Nagi-shaaan.

Nagi: Ah, sorry. Can you ask them what her favorite color is?

Sonia: I already did. Apparently, she likes the color blue!

Nagi: Blue... Blue, huh.

Nagi: I think we can use the nemophila we just got in earlier today. Add in some large calla lilies and sky-blue baby's breath...

Nagi: Maybe some delphiniums and blue stars could work as accents...

Sonia: And what about the ribbon?

Arisa: To explain, the Psychology of Happiness is the study that aims to help anyone, of all ages and gender, understand how to engineer and replicate the mechanism of happiness in their own lives.

Nagi: Replicate... happiness?

Sonia: Nagi-shaan, are you listening?

Nagi: I'm listening. Could you bring out the thin, light blue ribbon from the back?

Sonia: Got it. I'll leave the card here too.

Nagi: Okay, thank-

Teresa: Wait, some people find it easier to be happy because it's hereditary!?

Nagi: What!?

Sonia: Huh!?

Sonia: Geez, don't scare me like that. What's got you sho worked up?

Arisa: That's right. 48% is already determined by our DNA.

Nagi: .....

Sonia: Nagi-shan?

Arisa: Just like how some people might find a dish spicier than others, some can experience happiness easier than their peers as well. This is a hereditary factor, determined by our genes from the moment we're born.

Teresa: No way! So what you're telling me is that half of the happiness we can experience in life was already decided while we were in our mothers' womb!?

Nagi: ......

Sonia: Are you okay now? The customer will be dropping by soon.

Nagi: ...! Right, I need to get this done quickly...

Sonia: I'll go ahead and cut the flower stems under water.*

Nagi: Thank you. Could you also get the blue gift-wrapping paper-

Sonia: I've already spread it out for you!

Customer: Um... I'd put in an order just earlier.

Nagi: ...Ah.

Nagi: Sorry, could you please wait for just a moment? There's just the finishing touches left.

Teresa: So, what about the remaining 52%? Don't tell me it's influenced by the environment we were born and raised in.

Arisa: Not at all, the influence from your environment makes up only about 10% of it. As for the remaining 42%...

Teresa: ... Is it based on our actions?

Arisa: Correct! This means that, out of 100% achievable happiness level, about 42% of it is within our control.

Nagi: Wow. I've never thought about it that way.

Customer: Huh?

Nagi: No, if I think about it, is that really possible?

Arisa: Just as how the right diet is different for each person, once you figure out the method, anyone can achieve happiness. How it comes to bear fruit for you, is up to you yourself.

Nagi: If half of it is determined by fate, and the other half is uncertain... Could it really be that simple? Then maybe it's also possible for me to.... No, it's probably just a waste of time in my case. I shouldn't get my hopes up. Just thinking about it is making me depressed.

Customer: Erm... Are you alright? You've been muttering to yourself for some time now...

Nagi: Ah... Sorry about that. Don't mind me.

Customer: Right...

Nagi: Thank you for waiting. This is the completed bouquet. Is it to your liking?

Customer: Wow...! It's beautiful... It's just how I'd imagined it, I'm sure my girlfriend will be happy with it.

Nagi: I'm glad to hear that- Ah.

Nagi: That's right, I almost forgot... Excuse me, would you mind handing the bouquet back to me? There's one last thing I need to do.

Nagi: Mu....

Customer: Mu?

Nagi: Mu.....nn!

Customer: Um, what exactly are you doing...?

Nagi: I've instilled some energy* into it. In other words...

Nagi: It's something like a good luck charm. When your girlfriend receives this bouquet, she'll be so happy that she'd be skipping along the pavement.

Customer: To the point of skipping...

Nagi: Oh but, even without my little charm, I'm sure she would be plenty happy just knowing she has someone who would get her a bouquet when she's feeling down.

Nagi: In any case, I hope the two of you can skip along merrily.

Customer: I-I see... Thank you...

Nagi: Thank you for your patronage.

Sonia: Thank you very mush!

Teresa: Whaat, is it time for us to go already? Too bad, I really wanted to talk some more~

Sonia: Phew... I'm glad we finished it in time.

Nagi: Yeah, it's all thanks to your help Sonia.

Sonia: It's a piece of cake!

Arisa: Arisa and Teresa, your guides for psychology, signing out!

Nagi: Anyways, good job. Let's do our usual thing.

Arisa: Let's meet again when the fountain of knowledge wells up again!

Sonia: A high-five right? 3, 2, 1..!

Arisa and Teresa: See you again!

Play Ivory MV

Notes:

Sonia has a bit of a lisp so I changed a few words to match her speech

Intelli in Intelli-radio is short for Intelligentsia

dazzle is a social media site in the 18trip universe

PeChat is a messaging app in 18trip universe

GDP stands for Gross Domestic Product.

Cutting flower stems under water prevents air bubbles from going up the stem and helps in keeping the cut flowers fresh for longer.

'Muuun’ is the sound he makes when he’s instilling his happiness energy/thoughts(念) into the flowers, literally.

Flower Language:

Flower Language is important to Nagi's character and a way for him to communicate his thoughts, so I'll always note it down whenever any are mentioned.

Nemophila Lovely, Wish for success, I forgive you, Clear heart

Calla Lily Gorgeous beauty, Purity, Gracefulness of a young maiden

Blue Baby's breath Gratitude, Luck, Innocence, Kindness

Delphinium You spread happiness, Clear and bright, Generous, Precious

Bluestars (Amsonia) Trust in one another, Abundant love

Fun fact: The flower passed around in Ivory is a Delphinium! Meaning Nagi spreads happiness, which is what he does by sharing his happiness 'energy' but also that he brings joy to those around him by simply being himself.

Next -> | Masterlist

#Can you tell I love Nagi #a bit too much maybe #18tlip #18trip #18trip translation #hachinoya nagi #Nagi Hachinoya #Sonia robo #L4mps #18trip Main story translation

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five-rivers · 8 months ago

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The next part of my Kingdom of Fish pollfic! Continued from here.

It wasn't the practice he'd been intending, but… “I'm fluent in Elysian Greek.” That was the dialect Pandora's people used.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said the attendant, handing him a pair of scrolls. “People have been requesting these, and of course we don't get many people who know those dialects out this way, so…”

“Right,” said Danny. “Where should I…?”

“Oh, right here! But… oh dear, I'll need to find a booster seat…”

“I don't need one,” said Danny, quickly. “I can just hover.”

Danny needed one.

(But unlike what the attendant said, he didn't look absolutely adorable in it, nor was he perfectly precious when pouting. He wasn't pouting at all!)

He unrolled the original scroll, weighing it down with the scroll weights on the table, then did the same to the blank scroll he was copying onto.

“Are arrangements like this common?” asked Mom.

“What arrangements?” murmured Danny, keeping his voice down.

“Arrangements between groups of ghosts. Between your library and this one.”

“The library network is a bit unusual,” said Danny. The scroll appeared to be a transcription of the life story of an Eleusinian farmer. “The Library of Tongues gets relatively good deals, too, since most libraries need translators at least some of the time. But there are other groups that do similar things. Like, alliances and stuff between Realms. I think the Goblin Market started off that way. And there are the universities. Schools. Museums, too, but I don’t mess with them.”

“Why not?” asked Dad. “I’d think that they’d work closely with translators.”

“Well, yeah, but museums aren’t always very good about asking. And a lot of them get overly interested in things that are one of a kind.” Like Danny himself. He trimmed the quill pen provided to him and dipped it in the inkwell. He started writing.

“Oh, avoiding them is probably a good idea.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised, Mom,” said Danny. “I have all sorts of good ideas.” He wrote in relative silence for a while, pen scratching at the scroll.

“What’s in that?” asked Dad.

“The writing? Record of someone’s life. Not very long.” He hummed and contemplated how to translate a complicated religious passage.

“Where were they from?”

“And when?” added Mom.

“Eleusis,” said Danny. “And, hm, there’s not a date. Usually stuff like this is pretty old, though.”

“Eleusis. As in the Eleusinian Mysteries?”

“Yeah, I think so. This doesn’t really say anything about them, but I’m sure there’s stuff in the library proper that does. Why?”

Mom sighed. “Sometimes, finding things in the Ghost Zone, it’s a bit like time travel without the time travel. It’s a window into history.”

Danny frowned slightly. It was history, and books were always a bit like that, but it wasn’t as if the person who the scroll was about was necessarily gone. There was a very good chance that they still existed. They had already been dead when they’d dictated this.

Well, it didn’t matter, he supposed. It was very unlikely that they’d ever meet the guy. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, anyway.

He finished the scroll and rolled it up. He looked up scanning the room for the attendant. His eyes, however, caught on the large man with the bat ears and moth winds. He looked like he was suffering, his skin soft and melty. The thin man didn’t look like he was having a good time, either, fighting with his wings and an over-the-shoulder bag. Oh, and there was something broken on that printing press that he could definitely fix. And then, if he thought about it, this translation hadn’t taken him long at all. He could certainly afford the time to do a few more.

… Danny realized, then, that in addition to not having much of a chance to travel and explore, lately, he hadn’t had much opportunity to indulge his primary Obsession beyond helping in the lab, and now that he wasn’t swamped in the haze of cabin fever, it was itching its way out of his skin.

He was going to be horribly nosy about things. He could just feel it. All the practice in minding his own business he’d gotten in high school was years ago now.

#danny phantom #dannymay 2024 #dannymay #kingdom of fish #pollfic #poll fic #choose your own adventure

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sad-girl-hours23 · 2 months ago

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Thinking about Buck,

Still not over Tommy, deeply unsatisfied being under anyone else (he's tried and lost count how many times). His best friend has moved away; he's happy Eddie's working things out with Chris, but he misses them both terribly.

Amongst every one else, he feels...not so much a divide, but maybe less enmeshed than they used to be.

Nothing's wrong with his job, but well, it's starting to feel a lot less like his whole life and purpose and more like just that: a job. He's stagnant. Stuck.

He feels an itch under his skin that he can't scratch in any of his usual ways.

He's over pouring out his love into a Kitchen aid mixer. He's done trying to bury his need for connection into hook-ups.

Realizes maybe he's not as settled as he thought he was. Maybe he's still searching; but for what, he doesn't know. Himself. His purpose. Love.

Realizes he misses not being stuck in one place.

So he takes a vacation. Spends two weeks in Japan. Tells himself he won't create a full itinerary for his time there (he spends most of his flight doing so anyway, but he compromises with himself and leaves his second week open).

He reads about the Wind Phone. How people travel from all over to talk to their late loved ones through a rotary phone.

He doesn't go his first week there, but the thought of it is never far from his mind. (He's held hands with Death, he isn't sure what he's so afraid of).

He gets to the garden of Bell Gardia.

He thinks about Red Delacroix, who warned him against making firefighting his whole life. “You can be the hero and save lives, but don’t neglect having your own. Last thing you want is to be at the end holding nothing but regrets.” So he talks to Red; tells him he hasn't quite figured it out, is scared he never will.

He comes back the next day, Thomas on his mind. Buck tells him how he found his scrapbook the other day (he had forgotten that he'd even taken it). He tells him about Tommy, the love he thought he finally found (then lost). He smiles. "I know, I know. You don't find it, you make it." He can't help the crack in his voice "I really thought we were."

Buck wonders what it says about him that he's spending his vacation talking to the dead. Knows he's not done yet

He comes back the next day, and the day after that, and the one after that. He talks to Daniel each time. He isn't quite sure how to picture him; the age he was in the last photos taken of him, the age when he died, the older Daniel that his coma dream imagined up? He talks to them all.

He gives him the abridged version of his life. Wonders if he should leave out the parts he knows would break his brother's heart, leaves them in anyway. It's cathartic; to confess of the survivor's guilt he's carried since learning of Daniel, how it all came flooding back when woke up from his coma, how it felt like he was letting him down again in the interest of his own survival.

He's certain he's out of tears, and he may not have a voice left by the end of his trip.

But he's got one more phone call to make. And he can't make it here, in this haunted phone booth. And he doesn't want to wait until it's too late.

He hasn't figured it all out. He doesn't know where him and Tommy went wrong. He knows they're both haunted by their own ghosts.

But Tommy's still here. And unlike Buck's ghosts on the other end of the phone, he can talk back.

So Buck does what he should have done months ago. He calls Tommy. He nearly sobs in relief when he hears a breath on the other end and a quiet, "Evan?"

#why is this so long lol oops #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #sad girl hours musings

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afterdarkprincess · 4 months ago

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Between the Pages

Pairing: Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels (pre-relationship) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,427 Summary: Bret confiscates a copy of Shawn's Playgirl from the locker room and gives it a read in the privacy of his hotel room, discovering some things about himself.

AO3 link

Shoutout to @taydaq - your headcanon of Bret reading the interview directly inspired this 💖

This fic is Explicit and includes Masturbation and fantasies of Oral and Anal Sex- 18+ only. Full Tag list on AO3

tag squad: @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @jeysbvck @harmshake @southerngirl41 @imabillyami @ambreignsfan4life (if you would like to be added to the list or I missed you please let me know!)

💗💗💗💗

Between the Pages

Bret Hart is a professional.

He comes into work, does his job, and goes home. He’s damn good at it, and he’s not one for gossip and drama. Whatever the rest of the guys in the locker room have going on in their personal lives that’s their own damn business as far as Bret is concerned.

Unfortunately sometimes they make their business his business.

Bret’s already not in the greatest mood when he gets to the arena for Raw that night. It’s been a rough few months with the contract negotiations, and his tolerance for bullshit has been pushed to the limit lately.

So when he walks past the door to the locker room, hearing giggles and tussling from the grown ass men he’s supposed to be coworkers with, his hackles are already raised.

He enters the room, unsurprised to find mostly the young and immature members of the roster playing keep-away with something.

“C’mon I wanna see-“

“I bet you do, Butch. Surprised you don’t have one of these in your gym bag.”

“No way man, Michaels ain’t my type!”

Bret fights the urge to roll his eyes at the Champ’s name. Of course that’s what this is about.

“Hey!” His voice bounces off the concrete walls, cutting through the noise and shutting everyone up. He stares at the guy whose clearly trying to hide something behind his back. “Give it here or I’m telling management to bench all of you.”

Sheepishly the man hands it over, Bret snatching it out of his hands as soon as it’s within reach.

“Bunch of children, I swear. Fighting over this garbage.” The shiny paper crinkles under his grip. “Who gives a shit what’s in here anyway, probably just Micheals on an ego trip as usual.”

A few of them start to protest but he just shakes his head and takes his leave, thankful that he and his brothers have the luxury of a separate locker room. He looks down at the crumpled magazine in his hand as he goes through the doorway, and of course he runs headfirst into someone.

“Sorry, are you—“ When he looks up, he finds the same face staring back as the one grinning up from the magazine cover. “Shawn, you good?”

He looks him up and down, the champ looks fine physically, no harm from the collision, but there’s an odd look on his face that Bret can’t quite place.

“Fine, fine.” Shawn replies, with a smile on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Nothing that you need to worry about, Hitman.”

Bret hesitates. Something is clearly not right here, but his relationship with Shawn these days isn’t the greatest. He really doesn’t wanna push or pry where he’s not wanted and make things worse.

“Okay- I’ll, uh. See you around.” Bret takes a step back to leave and waves, realizing too late that the hand he waves with is still holding the trashy girly magazine. With Shawn on the cover.

If someone could just strike him down now that would be great.

Shawn laughs real and genuine for a moment before an almost sadness returns to his eyes. “Yeah, see you around.”

It doesn’t sit well with him, but he has no choice but to leave it at that.

They’d been almost friends at one point, years ago now, before things got all… complicated. They’d never been as close as Bret is to his brothers of course, but their chemistry in the ring had translated well outside of it too. They’d even tagged a few times, but then Shawn had made other friends and the business isn’t kind. It’s cutthroat, every man for himself. And Shawn had shown himself to be in it for just that, himself.

But still he wonders sometimes what might be if Shawn hadn’t fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Surely he wouldn’t be nearly nude on the cover of some porn magazine.

Thankfully the Hart locker room is empty when he arrives. He should probably just throw the damn magazine away, but instead he shoves it hastily into his gym bag, where it stays safely hidden away from his brothers’ prying eyes.

—

Bret doesn’t have a huge part to play on Raw that night, just a promo and a backstage spot before he’s done for the evening.

Usually he would hang around for a while to see the rest of the show, but he’d spent most of the day in a car and the comfort of a hotel room bed was calling his name.

He didn’t think about the copy of Playgirl hiding at the bottom of his bag, forgetting it’s existence entirely until after he’d gotten a nice hot shower and was getting ready to settle in for the night.

Bret dove his hand inside the bag, searching for a fresh pair of briefs and was taken aback by the sound of rustling paper.

“Oh yeah,” He mumbles out loud, rescuing the crumpled up pages before returning to his search. He tosses the magazine onto the bed and puts on the briefs before climbing in himself.

He’s tired, but it’s early still. And he has to admit his curiosity is piqued.

Bret smooths out the cover of the magazine, eyes roaming over his scantily clad coworker as he reads the various headlines about other male celebrities. It is a decent shot of Shawn, signature cocky smile staring out of the page.

The blurb about his interview reads “This Heartbreak Kid Is Single, Sexy, And Waiting To Get Wet With You!” the text tucked into the glistening curve of his armpit and ribs.

What a joke. Who on earth reads this stuff?

He flips through the pages, trying to avert his eyes as much as possible in case he gets an eyeful of more than he bargained for. He knows what kind of stuff they get away with in Playboy, who knows what they do in Playgirl. Mostly he just sees ads for perfume and razors among the articles until he finds the full page spread of photos of Shawn, in and out of the ring, that mark the beginning of his interview.

The insert proclaims, “the World Wrestling Federation’s CHAMPION LOVER had our hearts pinned to the mat in record time!!” right over a shot of Shawn stretched out on a bed, looking inviting.

“This is really what the guys in the locker room were fighting over?” He mumbles to himself in the quiet of the hotel room.

He begins to read the interview, which is mostly just vapid nonsense. How did he handle all the adoring women fans and being “single and searching”. and if he ever yearned for a normal life.

He flips the page and is confronted with a large photo of a clearly nude Shawn with only a bedsheet covering his crotch. He looks vulnerable, hair tossed delicately over one shoulder. If his exposed chest hadn’t been completely coated in a dark covering of hair, he could almost pass as a girl.

A tiny flame of arousal comes to life in Bret’s stomach.

“Huh,” It’s a tiny sound, no more than a grunt that escapes his lips. He tries not to think about that too much and reads on.

Does the idea of somebody biting at your heels, the next WWF Champion wanna-be ever worry you? You know what? I don't think so. I'm just confident in my ability. I don't sweat anybody. Nobody can wrestle longer than I can, nobody can make people yell louder than me for more. And if they can, I just work harder.

That gets Bret’s blood boiling. “Just who the hell does he think he is?” He scoffs at the page, unamused. That’s the exact kind of attitude in these up and comers that he just can’t stand, the kind of shit that’s gotten him and Shawn into disagreements in the past.

A voice in the back of his head, one with more rational sense than he has right now, reminds him that of course Shawn would play up his confidence in this interview for all the ladies.

It shouldn’t bother him.

He scans through the rest of the questions on the page, mostly inane things about pushy fans. The next page is mostly text with a few in ring photos, should be more interesting questions.

So what's the first thing that attracts you to a woman?

Or not.

Apparently Micheals likes smart girls. How interesting.

Back to the physical. What kind of hair and eyes? Brunettes first and foremost. That seems to be the pattern. Eyes…not really a color- it's just something about them, that there's something behind them. It's just one of those things that has to hit me immediately. That's how everything important has been in my life. If I don't get swept off my feet right away, I figure it isn't all that real.

Bret’s fingers wander to his own dark hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear as his memory brings forth several occasions where Shawn lost his train of thought while making eye contact with him, in the ring or backstage.

But that didn’t mean anything right? Shawn’s talking about his taste in girls, that doesn’t have anything to do with him.

The heat in his gut grows a little bit, and he feels it in his face too.

Being the WWF champion makes you the best-known and most popular wrestler in the world, doesn't it? (Modestly) Well, I'd like to think so.

A better answer, a political one. Bret can’t blame him there.

He skims through the next few questions, flipping the page to be greeted with several shots of Shawn post-shower, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. A sight he’s intimately familiar with from so many years of shared locker rooms, but never with Shawn looking at him like that.

Bret feels himself stirring a little in his shorts, and he tries desperately not to think about that too much, instead reading around the photos. Unfortunately they’re mostly silly ones about the hearts on his gear, if women get intimidated by him, so on and so on. Softball questions meant to titillate the target audience.

The interviewer asked how Shawn got the nickname “Boy Toy”, something Bret had been curious about as well, even though he’d been around when Shawn’s gimmick shifted. Apparently the moniker had been given to him by an older woman around that time.

Why do you think she called you that? I guess I was some form of object to her at the time.

He goes on to say that he doesn’t mind being objectified, which Bret can understand, it is part of the deal in their line of work. But knowing that his nickname, something Bret’s thrown at him both in ring and out came from such an unsavory comment; it doesn’t sit right with him.

Shawn hasn’t always been his favorite person, sure. And he had to have agreed to using the Boy Toy gimmick, which he plays so well. But something about that answer feels so sad?

Maybe it’s the lingering look of sadness he noticed in Shawn’s eyes, but there’s a soft undercurrent to some the answers that show a glint of the unsure young man Bret used to know. It’s far more compelling to him than the obnoxious act Shawn puts on, no clear line where his character ends and he begins.

Bret feels a tugging in his chest- maybe he’s been too harsh on Shawn these last few years. The soft spot he had for the younger man is still there underneath all the misunderstandings.

He’s also acutely aware that Shawn’s being objectified in these photos, and the insistent pressure in his groin proves he’s not immune.

The last page has another half-page spread of Shawn on a bed, covered again in a sheet, stormy blue eyes staring back at him.

The thumb holding the page brushes softly against the waterfall of Shawn’s hair almost against his will. Has Michaels always been this…. pretty?

Underneath the photo is a blurb, a quote from an answer he hasn’t gotten to yet.

”I’ve been told that for a man, I'm overly affectionate. I'm kissy-kissy, touchy-touchy, feely-feely”

Bret drops the magazine.

Every match, every practice, every scrap in the ring, all of it comes back to him now. The feel of Shawn’s body wrapped around him, underneath of him, beside him.

He doesn’t know how to process this wave of feelings, the weight of what this attraction means, how weak he feels to it. He’s never considered himself gay before, but can he really be that queer when Shawn is so soft and feminine?

He’s not sure but Bret wants him.

His dick is hard, aching. He sticks his hand under the fabric, biting his other hand to stifle the noise he makes as he takes himself in hand.

He doesn’t waste any time, gripping himself tight and screwing his eyes shut, his imagination running wild.

Shawn’s lips wrapped around him, staring up at him with those eyes, looking at him the way he looks in the damn girly magazine.

Shawn’s hands tangled in Bret’s hair as he rides him, hips bouncing as their lips connect, swallowing down his whines.

Shawn beside him in the bed, grinning as he jerks Bret off, poking fun at the noises he makes with a warm undercurrent of fondness.

Bret’s already getting close, between the visions of Shawn in his head and the sweet pressure and glide of his hand around him, eased with the copious amount of precum that leaks from his tip.

“You gonna come for me, Hitman?” Shawn’s breath tickles his ear before tugging his earlobe between his teeth playfully.

He lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a whimper and grunt as his muscles tense and he erupts onto his waiting palm.

Breathing heavily as he comes back down to earth, the reality of what he’s done settles onto his shoulders and shame floods in. What does this mean for his sexuality? How on earth is he going to be able to face Shawn in the locker room? In a match??

He covers his face with a pillow and lets out a long groan.

“Fuck!”

—

The next day Bret is tired. He’d been kept up, plagued by thoughts of Shawn in all kinds of compromising positions. When he did sleep they came again in his dreams, leaving him hard again when the alarm clock went off.

He took a cold shower before getting on the road. He had a three and a half hour drive to make it to the city where he’s set to perform tonight, just a house show but he’d like to hit up a gym before call time.

Bret resolutely tries not to think about Shawn Michaels or the magazine that’s tucked into the bottom of his suitcase. He blares the radio instead, letting the familiar noise drown everything out.

He wasn’t sure if Shawn was on the card for the show tonight, but with him being Champ at the moment it’s hard to imagine he won’t be.

Either way nothing had changed as far as Shawn is concerned. They’re still two guys who don’t particularly like each other.

He’ll just have to keep himself composed when he sees Shawn. Act like everything is normal and he didn’t spend the previous evening thinking of him while jerking off.

He can definitely do this.

“And that’s when I told the guy to buzz off and get out of the bar!”

The sound of Shawn’s voice is followed by laughter. He’s surrounded by his usual gang of friends- Hunter, Diesel and a few others, when Bret arrives to the arena.

He tries not to pay them any notice, hoping that he can make it to the safety of his private locker room without having to interact with them. For a minute he thinks he succeeded, keeping his head down as he walks past, only breathing once the sound of their laughter starts to fade.

But then he hears footsteps. “Ey- Hitman! Wait up, won’t ya?”

Of course.

Of course it’s Shawn.

Bret turns, watches Shawn jog to catch up to him. He’s not in his ring gear yet, instead he’s wearing a nearly see through muscle tank with sweatpants. His hair looks freshly dried, curls a little frizzy from the humidity.

“H-hey Shawn,” He tries for nonchalant, hopes that Shawn buys it. Thankfully he still has his sunglasses on so there’s no chance of Shawn seeing the panic in his eyes.

“Wanted to get your advice on somethin’-“ Shawn starts talking animatedly about a match idea he wants to pitch to management, but Bret loses track of what he’s asking almost immediately.

His eyes get lost somewhere between the light in Shawn’s eyes and the sultry curve of his lips as he talks. He thinks about how Shawn’s lips would feel against his, how Shawn’s curls would look after rolling around in the sheets underneath him.

Bret only realizes that Shawn’s stopped talking when his eyebrows knit together and he suddenly looks pissed.

“Were you even fucking listening?” He rolls his eyes. “And you claim that I’m full of myself, you know I don’t even know why I bother when all you do is act like you’re so much better than me-“

Fuck. He has to fix this.

“Shawn-“ He interjects but he gets steamrolled.

“But all you are is a fucking JACKASS, Bret.”

“You’re right.”

That gets his attention. “I’m right? You’re damn right I’m right.”

“I’ve been a jackass, Shawn. Yeah I wasn’t listening, but it’s.” He sighs, trying to decide how much to say. “It’s not what you think, I’m sorry, okay?”

Shawn looks wary. “If it’s not what I think then what is it?”

Bret feels panic rising in his chest. He can’t just fucking spill his guts to Shawn. He doesn’t know how Shawn will react, hell Shawn might not be gay at all, he did just do a whole interview about how great ladies are. He might punch Bret right in the face, have his friends beat him up, hell he could tell the whole locker room and make his life a living hell if he so chose.

No way he can tell him the truth. Not now anyway.

He searches for something to say, but he can’t find any good excuse. He’s terrified and frustrated and all he can do is stare at Shawn and think about just kissing that distrusting look of his face.

But he can’t of course.

When he doesn’t answer, the scowl on Shawn’s face deepens with hurt. “Fuck off Bret.” He spits before turning on his heel and heading back towards his friends.

He makes it a few feet before Bret realizes he’s fucked up even further.

“Shawn- wait!” He reaches out and grabs Shawn’s upper arm, holding tight even as Shawn tries to wrench out of his grasp.

“Get your hands off me-“

“I read your interview.” The words fall out of his mouth, hanging between them as Shawn goes still. “In the girly magazine, I read it, okay?”

“Oh.”

Bret’s fingers burn where they’re still holding on to Shawn’s arm. After a moment Shawn’s other hand moves slowly and wraps around his wrist, not moving to pull it off of him, just another point of contact between them.

Shawn’s eyes stare into his, like he’s sizing him up, searching for something. He stares right back, unable to look away.

For just a second he imagines that Shawn sways towards him, like he might bridge the gap between them, for what he doesn’t know.

But suddenly someone clears their throat and the moment is over.

Behind Shawn stands Hunter, with one eyebrow cocked, looking at them both suspiciously.

“Everything good here?”

The question is clearly aimed at Shawn, but Bret answers anyway. “Yeah man, all good. Was just leaving.”

He lets go of Shawn’s arm, taking a step back, but Shawn’s fingers stay locked around his wrist, not letting go.

“Shawn?” Hunter puts a hand on Shawn’s shoulder, and it seems to break Shawn from whatever spell he’s under.

His fingers release Bret’s hand, and he steps back into Hunter. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Bret watches as they go, befuddled as to what the hell just happened. Shawn looks back at him for just a moment, a small smile on his lips as their eyes meet.

His stomach is doing Moonsaults, but he feels something like hope.

He keeps the magazine.

#hartbreak #bretshawn #bret hart #shawn michaels #wwe ships #wwe fanfiction #bret hart x shawn michaels

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