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littlemissvincentvega · 2 years

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holy... oh my god, ur alex imagines are so hot, esp the one with the misbehaving s/o omgggggg, could i request alex having rough hate sex (or jealousy sex) with his s/o and fucking them stupid?? i just need more alex delarge smut, and thank u for the amazing works omlllllll

thank you lovely 😭💕 ahh i love writing for alex. luckily i rewatched aco a few weeks ago (made ryan watch cos he'd never seen it but he loved it) so i have a little muse for alex :') here goes lol i hope you enjoy! <3

wc: sex and boobies

You stood in the Duke of New York with a tray loaded full of empty glasses, waiting to take them to the kitchen. It was just a part-time job, but one you enjoyed-- mostly because Alex would visit rather a lot. He liked to know what you were doing, how you were doing. Make sure nobody was giving you any shit. The previous day, Georgie had paid a short visit. He had only come for a cider or two, just to chat and relax after a day at work, but it just so happened that you were behind the bar that afternoon. Of course he recognised you straight away and the two of you ended up having a lovely little chat, getting to know one another a bit better. Alex could be very cryptic; a very difficult fellow to read. "Darling?" a familiar voice called, and you turned around to see him approaching you. "Fetch us a little lager, there's a good girl."

"Alex!" you beamed, tottering over to him to plant a kiss on his cheek. He liked you to do that whenever you first saw one another. "Just give me a moment and I'll sort you out." With that, you whirled around and disappeared into the kitchen to put the glasses down. Moments later you were behind the bar, pouring a pint for your dearest Alex.

"So, 'ows the shift going, sweetheart? Rabbiting 'ard?" he asked you, watching your hands work the pump. Thinking about how he liked to see your hands work his pump, so to speak.

You smiled, placing the pint on a coaster. "Hard enough. What've you been up to?"

"Bit'a this, bit'a that."

"Captivating."

He chuckled quietly, looking up to meet your gaze. His baby blues were more intense than usual. Darker, perhaps. "Now," he began slowly, "did thou have something to tell me?"

You felt your brows knit together, stomach dropping slightly. "What?"

"Been chatting with Georgie-boy, have thee?" He leaned forwards, not once breaking eye contact. "Been 'avin' a little govereet, have we, darling?"

Your gaze fell to your feet. "He came into the bar--"

"Go to the toilet," he instructed, interrupting you mid-sentence. That was what irked you about Alex; he never gave you chance to explain anything.

"Why?"

"Get that pretty little backside of yours to the toilets before I give it a good tolchocking," he warned through gritted teeth, "unless you want every veck and cheena here to see what a naughty little girl you are."

There wasn't much you could do at that point. Alex could have easily gotten you fired then & there, but something in the back of your mind told you to obey him. His words mattered more than your manager's. Without another peep, you coyly made your way to the ladies' toilets-- you knew just what was coming.

Shortly after, Alex entered the bathroom and pushed you into one of the cubicles, quickly shutting the door behind him. You could feel his erection as he got you against the wall with nowhere to move. "Talking to other chellovecks, hm?" he muttered, yanking up your top to expose your breasts. Cold fingers squeezed on your nipples, earning a quiet gasp from your lips. "Do we need to be taught another lesson, darling?"

His hands roamed up your thighs, thumbs hooking under your underwear to pull them down. Your clit was already throbbing from the way he spoke to you. A single finger gliding across your slit drove the two of you up the wall-- you were already glistening, dripping with arousal. Alex tutted quietly, "Naughty naughty," and forced his finger between your lips. You had no choice but to taste yourself, to taste how much of a good little slut you were. How his words could flip you on your head just like that.

With his free hand, Alex unbuckled himself, unzipped his pants and dropped them slightly. He removed his finger from your mouth and picked you up, holding you against the cubicle door. Whining quietly, you lowered yourself onto him and let out an involuntary moan at his cock filling every inch of you. "You be quiet, darling," he purred, beginning to fuck you. There was no build-up to it, he simply started fucking you with no mercy, watching your tits bounce as he pounded you against the door. At that point you didn't care if people heard you, but Alex said no. And what Alex said went.

You truly did your best to stifle your moans, but it was all too much. Even he was struggling. "Fuck, Daddy!," you squeaked, holding onto his shoulders desperately. No response from him, but he clamped his hand over your mouth.

"Quiet," he warned, maintaining an intense eye contact with you. "Just sit there and take it like a good little devotchka, yes?"

A pathetic nod was given from you and he smirked, continuing to fuck you up against the door. "Good girl," he praised, squeezing your ass uncomfortably hard. His cock was throbbing inside of you, eager to release, and he definitely didn't hold back-- seconds later, you felt his hot load inside of you, sticky and relieving. He fucked you a few more times before helping you get up off of him, a smug look slapped across his face. Hands fumbled to zip himself back up and Alex opened the door, letting himself out, not giving a fuck that you were still standing there with weak legs, tits out and skirt hitched up over your ass. He turned to admire you, a wet slutty mess in nothing better than a ladies' room cubicle. "I hope we've learnt our lesson now, sweet'eart."

#alex delarge x reader #a clockwork orange fanfic #alex delarge smut

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist

CTRL moodboard

4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff

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gundamcalibarney · 2 years

Text

[ The Lady and the Liner ]

Boat Interest + “Hey what’s going on with the larger boats on Sodor?” = This Fic

Also cause i thought it’d be fun lol.

In terms of my personal timeline this takes place before Edward’s arrival.

canon to the Golden Whistle AU but no humanization involved.

Liberties were taken for the purposes of this story.

[ 🚂✨🚢 ]

16 April, 1910

Though the small tank engine had often worked in the inland yards, today she was sent to Knapford Harbour for extra help shunting the cargo for a passenger liner that had arrived. Mostly mail but still important!

Lady muses to herself that she hasn't really Seen many big boats herself. Most of what she knows comes from Theodore, who states that they do the work of express and freight combined (a mixed Traffic engine but less fussy about what they get, got it).

There was a large ship docked, one predominantly painted in black with four masts and a single funnel painted in red with a black cap.

Though what stood out to her was the lack of face, nothing to denote any form of expression or mood.

"That's her?" Lady asks.

A blue J68, Theodore passes by with some of the trucks on buffer, "Mhm and she's quite small compared to others that arrived but she's a big one nonetheless."

She simply hums in agreement as she gets to getting the mail, though there was a feeling that eyes were on her.

And that feeling remained for the majority of the day. Despite the liner not having any visible form of seeing she could still felt that lingering mood of being watched.

So Lady decides to give a quaint little whistle to the ship.

Peep Peep!

To her surprise the ship responds with a long deep Hoot.

"Good Afternoon to you Madame!" Lady greets, the ship whistles once more but it was shorter than the one before.

Huh?

"Er-i'm sorry?" Lady squeaks.

"Lady I'm not sure if she can really hear you speaking at this distance." David, her driver lightly chides.

"Do I need to shout then?" Lady asks.

"Heavens No!" objects her fireman Brent.

"Well then how am I s'posed to hold a conversation with her?" questions Lady.

"For all I care she's probably not interested." groaned Brent.

And the work went on as usual.

Lady still peeped her whistle as per usual to get the liner's attention and the ship still responded with Just whistles and no words.

The liner remained at dock but now people were boarding her, both passengers and crew while the cargo was being carefully loaded.

Both her and Theodore were there to see the ship go off, her masts standing tall and the funnel letting off steam but Lady still didn’t get a word out of her. Her cheeks puffed up in annoyance at this, there was the idea of blowing her whistle at her again seeing as she ‘responded’ the last time.

But third time’s the charm right?

With one big breath in she blew her shriek like whistle which subsequently caused small gold sparkles to fly out it and it certainly got the attention of the other people including the passengers going into the vessel and a couple workmen. The liner once more let out a low and long horn but then came something else-

“Quite the pipey one aren’t you?” It came from nowhere, deep as the whistle that blew before that yet so clear like the one speaking was directly beside or ahead her.

Lady’s eyes darted around for the source but as her mind scrounged for guesses on who had spoken, Brent wasn’t as bellowy, Sir Hatt doesn’t sound so hollow and David just doesn’t sound like and it wasn’t until the humourless laughter of-of-

She realises.

The Boat.

“Oi you have any explanation for not speaking up?!” Lady shouts (which catches Theodore off guard).

The response given sounded like an annoyed huff, “I was, you either didn’t hear or weren’t trying hard enough.”

Weren’t trying hard enough? the absolute Gall of this ocean liner!

“I was whistling to you and you rarely spoke up!” she growls.

“That’s not what i was referring to tank engine.”

“What do you mean by that then?”

“The Du-“

The voice abruptly cuts off into a long horn, the ropes that kept her at the harbour were brought back to the vessel. There was then silence from the liner since as she sailed away into the vast and open ocean.

To say that Lady understood any of that was an overstatement.

[ 🚢🚢🚢 ]

20 April 1910, Boston

“How was Sodor little liner?” asked Saxonia.

“Little my stern but it went well.” the other Liner reports. “Could’ve been better.”

Saxonia hums, “Any particular happenings?”

“Talking.”

“How well did that go?” Saxonia asks eagerly.

“It would have been good but i’m afraid Sodor’s invisible walls don’t allow that easily.” the other huffs in annoyance.

#moth’s writing #ttte #thomas the tank engine #ttte fic #ttte fanfic #golden whislte au #ttte lady #Theodore is an oc #this is like a mini fic cause i liked the scenario #the ending’s pretty ambigious #WHO the liner is supposed to be is up to you #(tho i did have a specific ship in mind ofc)

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obsessive-ego · 3 years

Text

A late night hand nsft

Musical beetlejuice x reader

You give beej a handjob in your sleep

Reader has a vagina

Warning dubious consent, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda

Shout out to the anon that told me to do this

Its been a full week of beetlejuice being underfoot and in your personal space, from the moment youd wake up, and left for work, to when you got home again, not that you minded at all, in fact you adored the demon, hell, you were head over heels for the ghoul, not that you had the balls to say it.

But this whole week he's been up on you, clinging to you, nuzzling his scratch beard into your neck, pinching your rear, poking at you, he just couldnt keep his hands off, not that you minded, though you did scold him for getting too friendly with your bum, you two even slept together and the man was a cuddler. All this physical attention wasnt usually an issue, you could normally deal with this pent up frustration and sexual neediness during some alone time with some less then wholesome thoughts of the bastard who made you feel that way to begin with.

But not this time, beetlejuice just wouldnt give you the time of day, normally he would duck out and scare the neighbors or lydia would summon him away, but lydia was off on a family vacation or something, and beej just wasnt in the mood to be a pest to anyone but you.

You envied the ghoul, his ability to just leave and do whatever he wanted, hell for all you know the bastard could be jerking off on the roof, shooting his load over the edge and watching it splat on the sidewalk, honestly you wouldnt put it past him, you couldnt help but snicker at that image, but your mirth was cut short when a familiar gravelly voice grabs your attention.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, just remembered a stupid tiktok I saw the other day, dont worry about" you shrug

The ghoul grunts, alittle annoyed you wont elaborate on the joke, but his attention returns to the film the two of you were watching, he was watching, you were too busy in your own head.

It was the regular movie night the two of you shared, you would order pizza, beetlejuice would scare the piss out of the poor delivery guy, and the two of you would stay up till the early morning watching B list horror, all the while the demon had an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side, he would claim he did it cuz he was cold and you were warm, and under normal circumstances you didnt mind, but now? You felt like you were gonna die, you swore the demon could hear your heart pounding away, or feel the warmth from your face, god couldnt tell you were in desperate need to deal with your pent up frustrations could he? Hell you wanted the ghoul to absolutely rail you on the couch, and you're pretty sure he'd do it if youd asked, but you werent that type of person, nor did you want friends with benefits relationship with beetlejuice, if anything you wanted something more romantic, as cheesy as that sounds, a loving relationship with a literal demon, I mean the two of you DO get along nicely, so maybe it wasnt too out of the question?

You were so busy in your on head freaking out you didnt hear beetlejuice trying to get your attention.

With a poke on the cheek you yelp in surprise

"You sick or something?" He smirked, amused by your cry

"Yeah, feeling alittle dizzy" you mumble avoiding the ghoul's eyes, he was leaning into now, his face way too close to yours, he had no idea what personal space even was, and you were in no state to deal with his clingyness unless you wanted to cum your pants infront of a jackass who'll never let you forget it.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed early" you shift away from the demon and up off the couch, he huffs in annoyance

"Really babes? You got the day off tomorrow, how bout you relax here with me, I dont mind if you doze off on me~, I'll keep ya nice and cozy all night~" he purrs, eyeing you up and down, if you werent wet earlier you were sure as fuck were now, you swallow the lump in your throat and squeeze your legs together and squeak out a soft "no thanks, I think sleeping in my bed would be ideal, I dont want to make you sick or anything, I mean If i am sick, night" you babbled as you scurried to your room.

With the closing of the door you were home safe in your room, not safe enough to jerk away these annoying pent up sexual feelings, yes you could be quite, but beetlejuice was nosy and had the nasty habbit of appearing when you least wanted him to, fantasies of him walking in on you then helping you finish is one thing, but in reality? Its terrifying.

You can stare at yourself in your bedroom mirror and snear "horny dumbass" you mumble as you plug your phone into its charger and slip in bed hoping tomorrow these frustrations would vanish.

Beetlejuice stifled a laugh at your exit, one of his favourite things about you was that you were a terrible liar, he could read you like an open book, that's how he found out you liked him and not just in a sexy way, he saw how much you liked him as a person, even though he wasnt one, you treated him with genuine kindness and wanted him around, not strings attached, that in itself was rare, a pretty little breather like you having the hots for a smelly creepy old guy of a corpse? One in a million, and he sure as hell wasnt gonna let it go.

He knew you liked him, and yes he's seen you masturbate more then he's willing to admit, but seeing you so turned on you looked like you were gonna explode? That was new, and he'd be lying if he wasnt a tad turned on by it at all.

Let's be honest beetlejuice knew he was winding you up all week, he wanted to see you're cute flustered expression, but soaking your panties? That was a bonus, he didnt think youd get so hot under the collar by his games, he was actually quite flattered that he had that level of effect on you.

The ghoul quietly floats over to your bedroom, pressing an ear against the door, nothing, he frowns, no sounds of soft panting, or the muffled buzz of your little vibrator, nothing. Maybe he was asking for too much, hoping youd have the guts to jerk one out while his presence was known, but no, no little peep show tonight.

As much as the demon would love to slip into bed with you and catch some Zs, it was still too early to do so, you'd still be awake, and in your current state would be pretty jumpy, he floats back over to the couch to wait it out, despite his creepy nature beetlejuice occasionally had these moments of respecting you and your feelings, it was odd, maybe the maitlands were rubbing off on him.

Beetlejuice spent most of this time waiting for you to doze off just staring at the ceiling as he reclined on the couch, he pulls a clock out from his jacket and gives a small smirk, enough time as finally pasted for you to be out and for him to slink in.

The ghoul fazes his way through your bedroom door, seeing you fast asleep, he smiles, floating towards the edge of the bed and with the snap of his finger his striped suit vanishes leaving behind nothing but a pair of stripe boxers.

Beetlejuice gently pulls aside the covers to reveal your sleeping form, you were wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, and with further inspection a pair of boxers, that were hidden by the shirt.

The ghoul slips in beside you and sighs at the welcoming of your warmth, the ghoul pulls you close being ever so gentle, trying not to wake you. The demon settles on the position of you using his soft chest as a pillow, your body pressed up against his side, and an arm around your shoulder with his hand on your upper back.

Beetlejuice let's out a soft sigh, this, this was nice, the feeling of warmth from your living body against his cold one, you were so soft, and warm, and alive, and you were all his, you just didn't know it yet. The ghoul couldnt help himself, you made him feel so wanted for nothing, of course he was going to fall for you, soon he'll get you to confess your feelings to him and then things will be perfect, but until that day, the demon was fine to snuggle with you, and get satisfaction from you in anyway he could.

His musings of your future love life was cut short with a soft whisper, it was unintelligible, but it was from you.

The ghoul stifled a laugh, you were talking in your sleep again, something you did often, but rarely was the demon able to make out what you were saying.

"What's up sweets? You okay?" He chuckled, hand running up and down your back

You mumble in response

"Oh, what's that? You need mr beebleboose to help you out?"

You hum

"You need me to rub your clothed vagina? Oh, y/n you naughty minx, is it because your so pent up from my little game of teasing-"

The ghoul's mirth was cut short when he felt the soft touch of a warm hand against his clothed dick.

"Whoa, babes, y/n ah-"

At first beetlejuice could have mistaken the first stroke as a slip of the hand, but another? You were gently rubbing his crotch in your sleep.

The ghoul quickly changes his hue to electric pink, and bites his knuckles to try and stop from moaning out as your warm hand continously brushes clumsily against his cock, now fully erect, it was embarrassing how quick the ghoul's meat rose to your touch alone.

"Sugar, you're not playing fair" he groans before bucking into your touch, this wasnt fair, you're dead asleep and playing him like a goddamn fiddle, was this karma? Was this his punishment for making you hot under the collar? I mean as far as punishments go, it could have been worse, but having you touch him in such a way, and not being able to do damn thing about it? Still drove the demon nuts, god slash satan he wanted to wake and rail you, though he knew you would die of embarrassment if you found out what you did to him in your sleep, so here beetlejuice was, stuck between a tock and a hard place.

"Bee..."

The noise nearly stopped the demon's heart, if it was still pumping, beetlejuice glances away from the ceiling over to you, which thank God, you were still asleep, just rambling again.

The ghoul lets out a soft sigh of relief before you interrupt

"Faster?"

The demon nearly dropped his jaw at what you uttered, though he clenched it back shut when he felt your soft hand squeeze his cock through his boxers.

"Harder?" You mumble

"Y/n please" he whines softly "fine, you win babes" he ghoul groans before begrudging brushing your hand away and pulling his painfully hard cock out of his boxers, the ghoul gently guides your eager hand back to his desperate meat, which you gently take hold of, the demon stifles a moan at the rush of warmth of your soft hand against his hard cool cock. Beetlejuice slowly begins to guide your hand up and down his shaft, all while he pants and and moans, hips trying their best not to buck too hard and wake you.

"Oh y/n, theres nothing like doing the stranger, especially if you already know them huh?" He chuckles between pants

"You like that?" You mumble in a whisper

"God slash satan yes" the demon whines, he wanted this for so long, he would have preferred you be awake, but he wasnt going to punch a gift horse in the mouth.

His hand guiding your own began to pick up pace, running up and down his shaft, stopping at the base ever so often to give it a light squeeze.

"Is this good?" You sighed

"Sugar you have no idea" been groaned biting on his knuckles

As good as beetlejuice was at edging he knew he wasnt gonna last long, the warmth and softness of your hand was gonna be the second death of him.

He was in heaven, or as close as a born dead demon was gonna get, but he was brought back quickly to reality when movement beside him.

The smallest squeak of movement from the mattress followed by a soft whine from you, if the ghoul's heart was still pumping it would have stopped by now.

This was it, he was done for, you were gonna see his dirty transgression and banish him forever.

Seconds pass and there was nothing, no screaming, nothing.

Beetlejuice let's out a sigh before returning to guiding your hand up and down his desperate erection.

But you move you body again, a soft bump against the ghoul's side, and another bump, then another, followed by a soft whine from you.

Were you trying to get off?

The demon smiles and stifles a laugh, here he was tending to himself while his sweet little y/n was desperate for a release of their own, what kind of lover would he be if he was to leave his favourite breather hanging?

Beetlejuice moves his free hand from your back, and softly slides it between yours and his bodies, slipping it gently between your legs, where it was greeted with a great warmth. His cool fingers gently press against your clothed sex, he could feel you were already wet, you've been hot under the collar all week due to his teasing, the demon couldnt help but smile at how this was all his doing, with another press against your clothed folds, you let out a soft whine and gently buck up against his hand.

"Bee" you whimper

"Y/n" he sighs, returning his other hand into guiding yours up and down his leaking cock.

Many a nights has beetlejuice dreamed if this exact situation, although in his fantasy you were awake, but this was good too.

"Want me to make a mess honey?" You whined

At this point the ghoul was close to his limit, it was if you could read his mind "oh yeah baby, help daddy make a mess" he groaned using your hand at a more brutal pace, chasing his own orgasm.

"Fuck y/n, that's it, that's it doll, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over your pretty hand baby" the ghoul babbled before finally cumming, his ectoplasm splattering all over your hand and the sheets that hid his dirty deed from view, moving you hand away from his now spent cock.

Beetlejuice takes a moment to bask in the after glow, before finally coming down from his sexual high to help you finish.

His attention now, 100% on you, a slight increase in pressure on your crotch as he rubbed, you whined and bucked into his hand, mumbling his name.

Beetlejuice took this opportunity to be a tad more bold, slipping a finger up the pant leg of your boxers and into your soaked vagina, he shivers at the new sensation, warm, wet, alive.

He slowly begins to pump his finger in and out, while his thumb eagerly runs at the clit.

It didnt take long for you to finish ether, due to how tightly wound you already were.

"That's it doll, cum all over my hand, eye for an eye right?" He chuckles

With a gasp and a few messy movements from you hips you cum, coding the demon's hand in your juices.

You slowly stop your thrashing and you panting dies down to soft breathing.

"Was it good for you too?" The ghoul snorts removing his hand from your crotch and bringing it to his mouth, sucking the lucky finger that explored your entrance.

Electricity leaving his hair, but remining pink, content in his late night activities, he snaps his fingers and his cum covering your hand and sheets vanish, as nice a thought was to have you sleep in that mess, youd be furious, and he couldnt have you finding him out just yet.

"Good night y/n" he sighs giving your forehead a soft kiss before dozing off.

Bonus

You woke up groping around for your phone, 10am, you huff, you start to sit up before being yanked back down, into the arms of the demon who snuck into you bed again.

"Wheres the fore babes? It's your day off, come play with old mr beebleboose~" the familiar coo of the undead bastard you welcome into your heart graced your ears.

"Morning beetlejuice" you sigh

"Sleep well doll? Feeling better, you sure were hot last night~" he teased giving your cheek a pinch

"Yeah, I am feeling better..." you trailed off, clearly amazed that you really DID sleep off those frustrations "werid dreams though.." you mumbled

Beej immediately perked up at that "oh~" he leans in nuzzling his face against yours "care to elaborate babes?" This was gonna be good, you were gonna be a cute flustered mess again.

You snort "dont get too excited there Bee, it's not like that, I was standing in the living room shaking a can of pop" you say flatly giving a jerk off type of movement with your hand, the ghoul's eyes grow wide at the gesture, tips of his hair turning pink "you were there, sitting infront of me, I tried to talk to you, but you didnt respond, I just kept shaking the can, till my arm hurt, then I opened it pointed directly at my face, spraying pop all over myself, then the rest is kinda fuzzy..." you trail off knitting your eyebrows together ad if you were trying to remember.

The demon let out a loud cackle causing you to flinch

"Oh babes, guess that dream helped you release all that tension huh?"

Your face burns when It clicks, rubbing you legs together and feeling the familiar feeling of a recent masterbation session, you didnt cum in your sleep did you? God, let's just hope beetlejuice wasnt awake when it happened...

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

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furikakyo · 3 years

Text

a return to roots | 5

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break.

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost

Ichiro arrived right on time at 5:45 in the morning, buzzing your door just as you had gotten dressed after a quick shower. Steam wafted out of the bathroom as you rushed to the door to greet him and show him where the luggage was. Without anything to say, he promptly picked up one of the large hard case suitcases and you followed suit, going after him into the elevator. When your bodyguard loaded both of your cases into the trunk of his car and then opened the door for you to get into the car, you quickly said, "I need to double check everything in there is fine. I'll be back in a minute."

After reassuring Ichiro that you would be ok by yourself, you dashed back inside to survey your apartment, checking each room to make sure you hadn't left anything important behind. The kitchen and living room were clean, check. When you got to your bedroom, you paused, seeing one of your acoustic guitars sitting in the corner. Should you bring it? Were you actually going to write music? When you had announced your hiatus officially, you had stated that it was to gain inspiration for new music... but then that wouldn't really be a break, would it? You gnawed on your lip, remembering what Kuroo had asked of you the night before: "Take care of yourself in Hyōgo, alright? You're there for a reason; to take a break."

You scowled, cursing Kuroo and his knowledge of your work habits. But, a voice inside you reasoned, it wouldn't be work if you were writing just for fun... You thought back to those moments in your childhood home, in your room, writing songs and uploading them to YouTube and SoundCloud without thinking that anything would come of it; back before you felt any pressure to perform. Back to when you wrote lyrics that weren’t very sophisticated, but earnest and heartfelt all the same… back to when you had your muse to sit beside you every step of the songwriting process.

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you ran to the corner of your room and snatched the guitar, put it in its case, and then snapped it shut with finality.

If Ichiro was confused about you carrying down another piece of luggage, he said nothing, only staring ahead and driving when you were buckled. "Onigiri Miya," you reminded him, then settled into your seat. The ride there wasn't too far from your apartment; you had rented out the space because of its convenience, so anywhere you usually wanted to go to was within a reasonable distance. You watched the traffic with disinterest and spotted restaurants with dim lighting inside, most likely already prepping for the day ahead of them. The world kept moving on ahead, regardless of whether or not you liked it.

When you arrived at Onigiri Miya, Osamu was already out back in the van, probably waiting impatiently. You checked the clock in the car and clicked your tongue. You weren’t even late.

When you stepped out of the car, Osamu opened his door and got out too. You smiled widely. “Samu!” You rushed forward and gave him a strong hug, which he somewhat reciprocated. He wasn’t as big on physical touch as his brother.

Osamu only rolled his eyes though, patting your back as you told him he looked great. “You do, too. Want me to help with your bags?”

You led him to the trunk of your ride, where Ichiro was already opening it and carrying one of your suitcases. Osamu hefted the other one up, and you trailed behind with the guitar case. After securing everything in the back of the van, you turned to your bodyguard.

You smiled, a genuine smile, and then repeated what you’d already told him over text. “Well, Ichiro-san, I don’t know the next time I’ll see you. I’ll make sure to text you in advance if I plan on going to more public areas.” He said nothing, so you continued. “Thank you very much for all you’ve done for me, and I look forward to seeing you again in the future!” You gave him a bow, which he reciprocated stiffly before quickly getting back into his own car and driving off.

You sighed, then looked to Osamu. He quirked an eyebrow. “Ready?” You nodded determinedly, getting into the passenger seat of the van and buckling, him doing the same.

“Alrighty, then,” he cracked a grin. “Time for a road trip.”

After a while of scrolling through your social media accounts you sat back and stretched. Then you flopped back into your seat and looked over to Osamu. “Samu,” you whined in the most obnoxious voice possible, “do you have any food? I’m so hungry.”

Osamu rolled his eyes, jerking a thumb towards the back of the van. “Ya really think I wouldn’t bring food for the trip?”

Immediately, you turned around and began looking behind your seat for food. Sure enough, there was an insulated bag with onigiri. You gasped, bringing the bag into your lap with stars in your eyes. “You brought some?”

You ignored whatever his response was, instead unwrapping one and biting into it. “Mmm,” you moaned, chewing slowly. The nori was still crisp and the rice was fluffy yet still sticky. You closed your eyes to focus on the food. He must have made them right before you got there for them to be this fresh.

“I’m guessing you didn’t eat breakfast, then,” Osamu said, eyes staring ahead at the road.

Your grip on the rice ball tightened before you quickly realized what you were doing. Your apartment didn’t really have much left to eat after you’d finished up the gyoza last night, and even if you’d had food, you weren’t sure if you would’ve been able to keep it down. Butterflies had filled your stomach as you had tried to go to sleep, and they hadn’t really disappeared yet. “No,” you shook your head. “I woke up early in the morning and was tired.”

Osamu hummed and then didn’t say anything else. After another long beat of silence you squirmed in your seat, a little on edge. “Mind if I play some music?” He shook his head at your question and so you took over the AUX, playing some songs that had been stuck in the back of your mind lately. After the music started, any awkwardness immediately dissipated as you sang along and Osamu tapped his thumb on the wheel to the beat of whatever was playing. At one point you had even pointed out his cute habit to which he had denied before doing the same thing twenty minutes later. Giggling, you just looked out the window and didn’t comment on it that time.

After about an hour of songs, Osamu finally spoke again. “You can go back to sleep, if you want. Ya look tired.”

You looked over at him and then nodded, curling into yourself, rubbing your wearied eyes. Sleeping would be a good opportunity since you hadn’t gotten much last night. You leaned against the seatbelt and window and closed your eyes, ignoring the bumps in the road which made your head hit the glass each time. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

After a little less than five hours, you woke up to Osamu driving, now playing the radio instead. You looked outside. Gone were the skyscrapers and bright lights; in their place were rows and rows of empty fields, all blurring past you. "Are we in Hyōgo yet?" you asked, turning back to him.

Osamu gave you a quick glance and then switched his gaze back on the road. It was just the Onigiri Miya van on the stretch, the rest of what you could see of the roadway completely devoid of another vehicle. "Yeah," he replied. "We have about an hour left. I was gonna stop at the next place to stretch, though." He looked over at you again. "Is that alright with you?"

You nodded and then dug out another rice ball from the thermal bag, munching on it as you stared out the windshield. The nori wasn’t crispy anymore but at least the filling was still yummy. "So we're going to stop somewhere first. What's the plan after that?"

Osamu adjusted his grip on the wheel, driving with only one arm. "I was thinking that we could stop by your house, unload your luggage, maybe clean up your space since no one's been there for a while, and then go to do my business in Hyōgo." He paused, then added, "With Kita."

Your heart raced. It was your first day back and you were already going to have to face Kita. You could just stay home, a voice nagged at you. No, you thought, your face filled with grim determination. You could do it.

Almost as if sensing your internal strife, Osamu said, "Y'know, Y/N, I think Captain is just as nervous, if not, more." He continued staring ahead, not looking at you. Now he started tapping his thumb against the wheel again.

But you, your head snapped to look at him. "Really?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

Osmau nodded, smiling. "He's barely said a peep in the group chat he's in with me. Although now that I think about it, that's usually how he is." He chuckled. "Unless he's getting in between me and Tsumu."

You sighed, sitting back. Why had you expected Kita to hold anger towards you? Because you chose a career over him? Because you chose success over two of you, the voice in the back of your mind whispered. You ignored it, crossing your arms. You felt bad for thinking he would be anything less than how he always was in your mind (he was always Mr. Perfect), but it also made you feel better knowing he was scared too. No, not scared. Nervous, Osamu had said. Oh, god, how were the two of you going to act when you saw each other?

"Hey, Y/N." You turned to Osamu just as he pulled into the driveway of probably the only gas station within a 50 mile radius. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You'll figure it out."

As you followed him out of the van to stretch out your legs, you could only hope that you would figure it out. Preferably before you had to see Kita.

You had, in fact, not figured it all out by the time you and Osamu reached your childhood home. Instead of thinking about your lack of a solution, you resorted to reaching under the dingy welcome mat and pulled out a plastic bag with a key inside. “Still here,” you said cheerfully, showing the dirty bag off to your friend.

Osamu rolled his eyes and waited as you fumbled with the key to the house and then eventually opened the door.

You peered into the dark corridor and slipped off your shoes before stepping onto the hardwood floor. “I called the electricity and water guy,” you muttered, dragging one of the suitcases behind you. You paused and then grabbed the handle, which extended, then let the suitcase’s wheels do the work for you. “Everything should be functional by the end of the day.” When you got to the end of the foyer, you gasped. “What…?”

The inside of the house was, contrary to your belief, not at all covered in a thick layer of dust like you’d expected. Instead, it looked almost exactly the same as when you had moved out from there.

Osamu trailed behind you, taking his cap off and scratching the back of his head. “To be honest, I forgot that this was happening. Everyone here didn’t want to see your house collect dust and fall apart, so they..." He motioned around him, your eyes following.

The tatami mats in the living room and your parents' bedroom were clearly cared for, otherwise there would’ve been the overwhelming scent of dust or mold. You could imagine the diligence it would’ve taken to clean them so regularly. And the furniture— you ran a finger along the top of the kotatsu and then looked at it; nothing. You’d have to move the kotatsu into storage since it wouldn’t make much sense to have it out right now; you only used it in the winter...

You drank in the rest of the house, mentally planning where to place things and what to rearrange to your own liking. "I'll get the other case you brought," Osamu muttered, sidestepping around you to reach the doorway. You barely noticed him leave as you crept to your own childhood bedroom, sliding open the shōji screen door.

…Huh. It didn't look any different from what you last remembered. You walked inside. You had your western-styled bed, which still had the furniture sliders under the legs to protect the tatami mats; the bookshelves along the wall with your favorite books and shōjo manga... You paused at the string of fairy lights strung above your dresser. Clipped onto them were photos from high school: you and Osamu proudly holding a double-tiered cake you'd made in home economics, you and a few of the other Inarizaki boys fooling around after practice, you with your parents in front of the school in your third year. You laughed to yourself while looking at them, recalling the moments in which the pictures were taken; back when Samu's hair was grey and Tsumu didn't know what toner was, back when your only responsibilities were as Y/N the assistant manager and co-class representative of 3-A.

You stared at the end of the string lights, where there was a picture missing. You knew what was supposed to be there, in that gap. You were unsure of where it had gone though, so you searched your entire bedroom, taking out all of the books in your shelves and turning them upside down, removing all of the drawers in your dresser and peeking inside the base. You scoured your belongings for a sign of where that photo could have been, but to no avail.

"You looking for something?" Osamu pushed off of the doorway he'd been leaning on and peered over your shoulder. "I can try to help ya find it."

You shook your head, smiling. "No, it's okay. I lost something but it's not that important." You stood up and dusted yourself off, brushing your hands together. "We have some free time now that I don't have to clean up around here. What should we do?"

Osamu nodded, thinking to himself. "Well, we could go reacquaint you with your neighbors… or we could get to the farm early. It’s,” he checked his phone, “around 3 right now so we would have a couple hours to check out the entire farm. It’s big, so having too much time on our hands wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Uh…” You bit your lip and stared expectantly at Osamu. You make the decision.

He lifted an eyebrow incredulously, then said, “Alright, farm it is.”

You dropped your phone into your lap in disappointment, tempted to just throw it out of the window of Osamu’s van. Kuroo really is kind of useless, huh, you thought, staring out of the window glumly.

The sound of the tires hitting gravel road caught your attention and you looked out the front windshield. You sucked in a breath. You were here. At Kita’s farm. Or rather, you thought, Kita’s house. You had parked in the driveway of his home which overlooked all the fields. They were still somewhat of a muddy brownish color from how far away you were.

“Ready?” Osamu tried to look grim, knowing of your inner turmoil, but his glittering eyes said otherwise.

You exhaled and then nodded. “Yes.”

The two of you didn’t end up getting very far along the fields before Osamu ran into someone he knew, probably someone else working on the rice fields under Kita based on the way he was dressed. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and, somehow, long sleeved shirts and pants. Osamu smiled, greeting the man, “Koji.”

His recipient smiled too. “Osamu. How’s business in Tokyo? Still thinking of opening another shop in Osaka?” Koji motioned for him to follow him down the path in between the rice paddies, and he did, already lost in a conversation. You watched as another group of workers came towards the duo, and you heard laughing and cheering as Osamu talked to them.

Well, damn. Osamu had left you behind. You looked around and then checked your phone. You still had basically two hours to kill. “Ugh…” Should you just wait in the van for Osamu? What if Kita saw the van pulled up and approached it, though? You did NOT want to be alone with him, just the two of you. Plus it would be hot waiting in there. You pulled at the front of your t-shirt. At least there was a slight breeze every once in a while when you were outside.

Am I really going to do this? You looked up at the sky and shielded your eyes from the sun. It was already beating down on your shoulders and back. Sighing, you started in the opposite direction of where Osamu and the workers had gone. There seemed to be a lot of property, you thought, admiring the view. Although the rice paddies were still muddy, the view you had from this side of the farmhouse was stunning. In the distance were lines of trees so dense, and mountains even further away, just a faint silhouette smoothed against the sky. You imagined what it would look like when the rice was ready to be harvested, all green and heavy with the fruits of labor.

A few days ago you’d thought absentmindedly that life had been kind to you, Kuroo, and Kenma. But now, looking around the serene landscape and close-knit community of workers, filled with a fresh green newness brought from only the spring, you wondered: maybe the years had been kind of Kita, too.

Behind you, you heard dull rustling, and you turned automatically. You froze, stunned. Your mouth moved and formed words before you could even comprehend what it was you were saying.

“Kita?”

a/n: ohhh my goodness i had the worst experience with a karen yesterday and i never thought i would have to deal with one for some reason…. fuck you amy and i hope i never have to see your bitchass face again

taglist (pm me to ask to be added): @papiibuprofen, @duhsies, @succulentmom, @kenmaslov3r, @introvertatitsfinest

some ~fun facts~

- ichiro the bodyguard/driver may or may not have shed a tear or two after y/n left. (i told you he was a big softie)

- he wanted to give you a hug goodbye but wasn’t sure if that would be overstepping 😔

- imagine samu loading the van with your luggage and pushing off the doorframe after previously leaning on it with his muscly arms and glorious tiddies… BEEFY SAMU SUPREMACY 🧎‍♂️

- one of osamu’s guilty pleasures is pop music 😭

- one of y/n’s fav things to do on social media is just go through atsumu’s public profiles and read the thirst comments 😭😭

#haikyuu #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #kita 🧍‍♂️#miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu!!#inarizaki #kenma kozume #miya osamu #ojiro aran #kuroo tetsuro #suna rintaro #haikyuu x reader #farmer kita

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

Callisto

Okay, you may have heard me rambling on about this project...alot. Poor @tsarinatorment @janetm74 @scribbles97 and @onereyofstarlight have suffered extensively so far because it has been them I have been harrassing the most.

The reason why it is such a big deal to me at the moment, is because I’m trying something new. You may have noticed I have a bit of a scatterbrained muse that likes to jump from one shiny to another at a breakneck pace - I am soooo sorry for the trail of unfinished fics over the last few months ::groans at the mess on my archives:: I had sworn to not upload unfinished stuff, but there are some fun moments in those wips, aaargh.

But anyway, finishing the Kermadec fic was a big thing for me. VERY BIG. The previous year I had managed to, with so much support from you guys, finish Gentle Rain, which, while not everyone’s cup of tea because it is a ship fic, had a major impact on my writing and proved to me that I could finish a longer project.

When I started the Kermadec fic, I realised it was going to be quite a long one, but not as long as it actually was. The muse did what it liked with those whales and, well, sorry Virg. That fic had some planned structure. I had a solid skeleton of initially four days (which became five). I knew they were going to camp on Macauley, I knew they were going to encounter the whales, and Mel was planned from the start. Sam popped up halfway and all the Raoul scenes did whatever the hell they wanted, but I knew I had to get the boys home for Christmas (I just didn’t specify which Christmas, oops). But the key was I had a structure to hang the boys on and contain the muse just a little so it didn’t suddenly slap a space rescue in there or something stupid like it is prone to do.

Leading up to, and while I was writing/procrastinating the Kermadec fic, (like a good chunk of last year), I started a new writing regime (stolen from Terry Pratchett, apparently) where I only require myself to write 400 words a day. This number is achievable and I started writing every day, something fairly consistent. Considering how erratic I can be, this was a great achievement. I ended up creating the Anna Kent series, Dirt, Flannel, Reactions, When the World Goes Boom (I will finish this!), The Dentist, The Joker and the Hero (I’ll finish this one too!) and Who do you save, John?. All of these are decent sized fics, but all of them were started on a whim and slapped together in odd moments. The muse did whatever the hell it wanted and I often ended up in places unexpected. While they were a lot of fun and I am really happy in some cases, I feel that the plots sometimes suffered for lack of planning. There were definite instances of me writing myself into a corner and then having to bend the fabric of space and time to get myself out of it. There was some planning...I have scribbled notes, but most of it was on the fly and a thread tying exercise at the end.

So, I want to improve that plotting and planning. However, as with everything to do with my stupid brain, there is a problem. If I plan too much, the writing gets boring and I lose interest - this has happened in the past. So I need to find a balance.

But I’m learning. Year one was Gentle Rain, year two was We’ll Be Home For Christmas. This year it is Callisto.

Callisto is a planned novel length fic. Screw it, I’m calling it a novel :P Look I have a storyboard to prove it.

And, yes, I made sure it was blurry enough to not offer spoilers.

I literally spent all day Wednesday nutting out the science behind this story and world building and in the evening spent another few hours ironing out the plot. Many thanks to those who helped so much, you know who you are and I appreciate it ever so much ::hugs you lots::

So I have a plot skeleton on which to hang our boys (poor buggers, they’re all in this one). The word count it already over 16,500 words and I have no idea how high it is going to get.

One of the things I really enjoyed with the Kermadec fic was exploring the Kermadecs, a place I have never been and will likely never go. It was fascinating and the process was like actually being there.

This time around I want to take the boys out of their familiar surroundings, I want challenges, I want mystery, I want to learn and I want to see if I can do this.

So, long story short, this is a big thing for me and while sometimes it may seem I’m not writing much, it’s because unlike previous exercises, I’m not posting immediately. I’m leaving a gap between writing and posting, leaving room for alterations. The first half of Kermadec was written this way and it was pure luxury to be able to go back and add foreshadowing when I needed to. This is better practise for me and will hopefully result in a better fic.

All in all, I’m hoping to control my crazy brain in order to make a quality end product. But it will be challenging. There will be whining and down moments. Screaming matches with myself and times where I will need a prod or a poke. This is me facing me, always a scary thing. I am my own nemesis.

So, I would like to thank all of you who have been so supportive so far and put up with my whining and oddities. There will be other fics along the way, no doubt. The challenge is to stop them from getting out of control and taking my attention from Callisto. It will be a juggle. I know myself too well to think I won’t wander off on another fic (the whole reason both The Hero and When the World Goes Boom aren’t finished is literally because of the Kermadec fic - I slammed them shut and made myself focus on the big fic - unfortunately, picking them up again is hard and in turn screwed with just about every other fic I attempted towards the end of last year, which is why I cracked earlier this year and desperately needed to dump the load of WIPs in order to get writing again - I sometimes get lost in my own brain).

So, this essay, wow, oops.

Next Tuesday, I will be posting the new Prologue (the original prologue was only 700-odd words long and proved to be not enough so I went back and expanded it to the full length I had originally planned - it is now nearly 5000 words long and pretty much a story by itself). Once that is posted, I can start uploading the fic to the archives so peeps there can see I am actually writing.

I’m currently hip deep in Chapter Three, where that storyboard starts.

Wish me luck :D

::hugs::

Nutty

(nuts)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #callisto

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keanuvibe · 4 years

Text

Noses in Roses (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 5 (Final)

A/N: okay yall, this is it. Im saying goodbye to the Noses in Roses universe ;-; I loved it, i loved writing for it. But sometimes you just gotta say bye :( (ps im the worst updater in the world!) (pps this was 10 pages in google docs omfg i need help yall. Do i write too much detail lol)

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: violence, killing, mentions of pregnancy

July 8th, 8:17PM

“Don’t forget, Heather needs a new toothbrush.” You mindlessly spoke to your husband, staring down at the phone in your hand. It was a rare summer evening where you and John had managed to find a sitter so you two could go on a date. It’s been since your third baby was conceived, so seven and a half months, since your last. With him constantly going out on jobs and you being a full-time mom, it was hard to find the moments in between.

“Should we stop at the grocery store?” John's gentle voice asked, resting his hand along your thigh. The two of you currently sat in his car, stuck in typical big city traffic. You’d already gone to dinner at some fancy, overly expensive restaurant in Manhattan and now were on your way back home. Looking up from your phone, your eyes met those of your husbands.

“Yeah, there's a few other things I need to grab anyways.” You hummed. John’s hand that donned your thigh gave it a gentle squeeze as his attention turned back towards the street. His car roared to life, when the light finally turned green, as he unnecessarily sped through the intersection. You could tell he was eager to get home. With his profession and the enemies he’s made, he prefers to keep you and the children home. That’s most of the reason as to why you hadn’t gone back to teach after Heather. Another part was the fact Helen is still out there. She’d already given you a run for your money once, and you certainly didn’t want to face that again.

Sure, it’s been four years since all that happened, but you still sat on the edge of your seat. John had vowed to kill the woman if she put a hand on either you or the kids. It was a nice thought, but the actual killing part left an unsettling sour taste in your mouth.

The man definitely keeps his work and home life separate as much as he can manage, but you recall so many late nights where he stumbled into bed covered in cuts and bruises. Sometimes he’d come home so stitched up he could barely move and you'd have to dress him or, in a rare case, feed him.

Your dark thoughts clouded your head and you blinked a few times, watching the passing lights of the city. The movement of John's hand gently placing itself on top of your own, which was resting on your large belly, caused you to look at him. His gaze was still facing the road, eyes occasionally blinking. He had tucked some hair behind his ear, exposing just how handsome his profile is. He’d let his beard become bushy, same as he did shortly after Heather was born. He donned a fresh scar from his most recent job on his cheekbone, though it’s hardly noticeable when his hair isn't tucked back. Subconsciously you squoze your fingers with his, intertwining your hands. They were rough and worn, but still somehow gentle to the touch.

“I can feel your stare,” His voice interrupted the silence.

“Sorry,” You spoke bashfully, averting your gaze to looking back out the window.

“What're you thinking about, darling?” Your husband pushed. His hand gave yours a squeeze, a silent showing of affection.

“A lot,” You responded with a sigh. The car pulled to a stop at a red light, prompting the man to look at you once again.

“Does it have to do with my job?” He murmured, carefully treading about the topic.

“Yes,” Your voice came out as only a whisper. This was an ongoing fight in your relationship, obviously. You can't count how many times you've gone to bed sour, or crying, or heartbroken because of his career. Sure, It paid for your lifestyle and the ability to comfortably raise your kids; but at the risk of losing John? It didn't feel worth it.

“Let’s not focus on that tonight, darling. You know I’m not going anywhere. And if I die, I'm going to haunt the house so you truly can't get rid of me.” John's light humor caused a little laughter to bubble up your throat.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” You mused, tapping him on the shoulder. A smile crossed his face as your eyes met. You still felt butterflies erupt in your belly when you two made eye contact. Just as they did when he first walked into your classroom all those years ago.

Cheesy music from the eighties echoed throughout the grocery store as you and John walked towards the pharmacy section. You pushed the cart while your husband followed beside you, his eyes warily looking around the semi-busy market.

Patrons eyes turned and gave you and John a look over, which wasn't uncommon when you were out in public together. He is a tall, brooding man, with his eyes always set in a glare unless he’s looking at you, the kids, and your new dog Winston. Their looks only prompted John to stand closer to your waddling figure. One of his hands firmly planted onto your back as you walked. It was a feeling of comfort for you and him; a physical reminder of the other.

“Do you think she’d like this one?” You murmured, stopping in front of the toothbrushes and grabbing a pink, sparkly one from the hook. Heather is going through a princess phase, requesting everything she owns to either be covered in sparkles or be pink and purple. It’s quite adorable, besides the fact that glitter manages to find its way into her small hands and then all over the house. You found glitter in the washing machine once, but only after you'd already done a load. John’s street clothes were sparkly for two weeks before all the glitter finally rinsed out.

“I'm sure she will.” John responded. You could feel his presence stiffen, signaling something was bothering him. Your eyes immediately looked up, trying to peep over the shorter aisle walls in the pharmacy. The store was semi-crowded for late evening, but not too bad. You glanced at the people walking past, looking to spot what had John on edge, but couldn't see.

The man's hand on your back gripped onto your dress a little tighter, as though he was keeping you close. Swallowing thickly, you looked back up to your husband. His brows were furrowed and his lips sat tight. You had to admit he looked pretty menacing. The only time you've had a glance of John Wick was when Helen kidnapped James. It’s as though he turns into a completely different John; like a switch he can easily flip if need be.

“What’s going on, baby?” You whispered just loud enough so your husband could hear. Upon hearing your voice, the man's hand loosened but his gaze didn't shift.

“I think she’s here.”

His response sent cold shivers through your veins and you frantically whipped your head around looking for the woman in question. You didn't have to ask to know who it was: Helen. Instinctively you stepped closer to John until your back was flush with his chest. His hand moved from your back and grabbed your arm instead, gripping tight enough to bruise.

“Let’s buy Heather’s toothbrush and leave.” John spoke, voice low. You quickly grabbed the toothbrush, abandoning the cart in the aisle. John walked ahead of you acting as a sort of shield, while you waddled behind trying your best to keep up. The grip on your arm was starting to hurt, as he was basically pulling you towards the checkout stands.

Approaching the self checkout, John let go of your arm, gesturing for you to scan and pay. He then turned his back to you, watching people on the surrounding machines. Swiftly scanning the toothbrush, you could feel the panic and mild horror coursing through your veins. It was beginning to feel overwhelming; The people, the noises, the music. Your head was starting to spin.

Once the receipt printed, John grabbed your hand intertwining your fingers tightly. The two of you made your way to the exit, but you kept your head down as a nauseating feeling passed over you. Stepping through the doors, John’s eyes kept glancing around the parking lot, wary of each person that passed.

“I think i'm going to be sick,” You murmured, putting your free hand to your head. You felt the clamminess of your skin, sweat from the summer heat only worsening the feeling.

“We're almost to the car, darling, just a few more steps.” John's voice was instantly soft at your claim. He adjusted his position, letting go of your hand and placing his own on your back, guiding you towards the vehicle.

Once you made it to his car, he quickly unlocked it and helped you in; following by climbing in himself. The quietness of the interior felt odd as the man put the key into the ignition, bringing his car to life.

“Hello, John.” The cocking of a gun caused you to turn your head, eyes widening as the sight of your husband's ex-wife holding a gun to his head.

“Helen.” The man responded, voice low. His gaze was fixated on the rear view mirror, looking at her sitting in the backseat. You could feel the anger radiating off his body.

“What, I don't get a nice greeting anymore?” The woman smirked, never moving the gun from its spot. John didn't bother to answer, he only stared at her with a heavy glare.

“Mrs. Wick, you look lovely. Expecting again I see.” Helen changed the topic, her gaze turning towards you. You felt a chill run down your spine as her eyes bore into your own. They were lifeless and cold as she carried a smirk across her perfectly painted lips.

“What do you want?” John took her attention from you, speaking up. Her eyes lingered, however, glancing down at your belly before looking back towards your husband.

“Oh, John. You never were one for pleasantries.” Helen mused, shaking her head. In her pause, you took the time to finally look at your husband. His gaze still remained forward, staring at Helen through the rear view mirror. His fists were clenched tightly onto the steering wheel, so tight his knuckles had turned white.

“Anyways, I just thought I’d pop in and see how you were doing without me. It’s been four years since our last run in, I missed you Jonathan.” She spoke, almost softly, but there was still an unsettling ring in her tone.

“With a family and everything, I figured you’d forgotten about me.” Helen pressed on, sighing after she spoke. “James probably misses his mother.”

“You were never his mother.” You found the courage to speak, anger beginning to boil your blood like hot water. Sure, James isn’t yours biologically, but he is your son and no one is allowed to claim your babies. Especially not the woman with a gun pointed towards your husband.

“Oh? I birthed him, did I not?” Helen coyed, cocking her head and looking towards you.

“You abandoned him, did you not?” You sneered back, eyes narrowing. Helen blinked, shocked you’d even snap back. Her mouth pursed tightly, clearly upset by your words. The gun in her hand pressed further into John’s head making your heart race; the man seemed unphased, however.

“Drive, John. I can’t kill you and your Bitch of a wife in a parking lot, that’s too obvious. Third Ave and Main.” The woman spoke, eyes glaring back towards your husband. John put the car into drive, pulling out of the grocery parking lot and onto the street. His knuckles were still white from gripping on the steering wheel so tightly.

“You know, Heather has grown up to be quite cute, I must admit.” Helen chimed, eyes staring directly towards you. She's trying to get a rise from you, finding it amusing. A little smirk covered her face, seeing you and John both clench your jaws.

“Do not talk about my daughter.” John finally spoke, voice low.

“Last time I checked, she isn’t even yours.” Helen mused before continuing on, “Right, (Y/N)? Your dead ex-husband's kid? Does she even know her real father’s name?” The woman pressed on.

You and John remained silent, swallowing the anger that was threatening to release. There was no point in wasting your energy and playing the woman's mind games. Heather does not need to know her real father, for John has been the best dad to her since the moment she was born. Even before that, when you were pregnant, he loved her. Plus, Helen’s nose doesn't belong in your personal business.

The remainder of the drive wasn't too long as location actually wasn't too far from the grocery store. John pulled into the parking lot of a warehouse. The building stood surrounded by other warehouse types, however they were smaller and looked to be falling apart. Big machinery littered the area as well, clearly having not been used for years as rust had begun to decay them. The street lamps were dim, near the end of their lifespan; leaving the place ill lit.

“You remember this place?” Helen murmured, looking at your husband. You could sense this area didn't bring back happy memories, judging by the stiffness of John's person.

“Turn the car off, and slowly exit the vehicle.” She spoke, tight lipped. The two of you willingly complied, climbing out of the vehicle slowly just as asked. Your mind couldn't help but wander; thinking about Heather and James at home. You only prayed that Helen didn't get their first and that they're still okay. The babysitter is probably curious as to where you two had gone. It's already late, nearing ten o’ clock according to the watch donning your wrist.

“Lean against the car, hands behind your backs.” Your kidnapper hissed. You and John did as she asked; you leaning against the passenger side, while John leaned against the driver side. She pulled a thick zip tie from her pocket, swiftly tightening it around Johns' wrists first. She then stepped over to your figure, grasping your arms and tightening the restraints around your own.

Furrowing your brows from the pain of the zip tie digging into your skin, you weakly looked up eyes met those of Johns. He couldn't say what he wanted, but his eyes told you everything he needed. He’s going to get you out of this, one way or another.

“Into the building, let's go.” Helen spoke, shoving the gun into your spine, urging you to walk. Your heart picked up in speed noting the second weapon she had unsheathed. She now had two, the one against your spine and the original pointed towards John again.

Approaching the warehouse doors, she urged John to slide it open. The man turned around and awkwardly slid the doors open with his hands still bound. Helen then ushered the two of you in, her gun jabbing your spine unpleasantly. The inside was large and mostly empty, save for some abandoned equipment, a few small shipping containers and some scaffolding. Moonlight shone in through some windows that were high up on the wall, giving some light to the large dark room. You noticed two chairs in the middle of the space as well, probably where you and John were to sit.

“Sit.” Helen then spoke as soon as you reached the seats. With force, the woman shoved you into the rickety fold up, causing you to nearly fall backward.

“Touch her like that again and I’ll kill you.” John spoke, his words filled with venom and threat yet he somehow remained mostly monotone. Helen merely stared at the man before laughing, shoving him into the seat as well.

“Don't tell me what to do.” She then replied, sheathing the second gun and leaving only one in her grasp.

“What do you want from us?” You questioned weakly, eyes veering up to meet your kidnapper. The woman seemed to be pleased by the tone in your voice; as it is so clearly beaten and broken. Hell, you’re also heavily pregnant and the sick feeling you felt earlier still hadn’t gone away.

Helen's perfectly painted lips pursed into a smirk, crossing her arms at the same time. She stood in front of you, bending over to meet your eyes. Your heart raced, but you didn’t dare break eye contact. You are strong, and you aren’t going to let this woman belittle you.

“I want to kill you, (Y/N).” The way she answered was filled with delight and amusement. “I want to watch life leave your eyes as John screams in anger.”

“You really need therapy.” You spit back, causing the woman to stand up straight and step back. She let out a snort of laughter, haphazardly waving the weapon in her hand around.

“They tried. Didn’t you, John? You and Aurelio.” She mused, beginning to pace in a circle around your sitting figures. “It’s for your own good, Helen.” The woman's voice mocked, “‘You are sick’, ‘You are a threat to yourself and others.’’’

“I couldn’t see you get hurt.” John finally spoke up. You looked over to your husband to see his head drooped in defeat. You’d never seen him so broken before, this wasn’t anger, it was sadness. The man had to process his past, something he’s been running from for years.

“You couldn’t handle me becoming a better assassin than you.” Helen retorted. “Our whole relationship, you tried to put me into a box. I’m not some little housewife, John.”

“That’s not true.” The man responded, finally raising his head. Helen had returned to standing in front of you, arms folding once again.

“Whatever, I’m still going to kill you in the end.” The woman spoke, shrugging her shoulders. “And after I’m finished with you, I’m going after your children.” Immediately, your eyes cast to your husband wide with fear. You could see the defeat leaving his expression as rage began to fill it instead. His brows furrowed, forming an angry crease as he looked up through his lashes to meet Helen’s amused face. She struck a chord, and it was obvious.

Without a blink, John raised from his chair charging Helen and knocking her over, prompting the two of them to fall onto the ground. The gun in her hand flew from her grasp, landing by your feet. Standing up as well, you kicked the gun closer to your hands, leaning down awkwardly to grab it.

John maneuvered his body so his cuffs and arms now were in front instead of behind his back, giving him more of an advantage. Helen swiftly stood too, pulling out her second gun and pointing it towards your husband. The man reacted, using the restraints to pull the gun from her grasp, sending it flying across the room. He then quickly jabbed her in the throat, causing her to choke and falter back slightly. Grabbing onto her shirt, he then kicked her shin following by flinging the two of them to the ground, putting her into a choke hold using his legs.

The woman retaliated, however, squirming her way out of his grasp. They stood up in unison again and Helen began to hit his side, catching him off guard. She then used the zip tie handcuffs to her advantage, holding onto them as she swiped under his feet, knocking him to the ground. She then straddled him, trying to get any hit in she could, however John was quick to kick her off.

In the meantime, you frantically looked around for a sharp object to cut your ties. Nearby sat a pile of old tools, rusted and decaying. Making your way over and searching the area, you found an old hand saw with some chipped blades. Bending down to your knees, your back faced the saw as you searched blindly for the blade; due to your hands still being bound. The rusted blade cut into your forearm from your search, prompting a whimper of pain to escape your throat. Blood began to pour down your skin, dripping onto the ground. Biting your lip and pushing aside the pain, you began to saw at the restraint until the zip ties finally broke free.

Standing back up, you grabbed the gun that had fallen from Helen and made your way back over to them. The grunts and groans of their fighting persisted, and you saw that Helen had managed to find a piece of old tarp. She wrapped it around John’s throat, causing him to thrash around in an attempt to rid himself of it.

“Let go of him!” You yelled, shakily pointing the gun towards the two of them. Your voice caused them to pause and stare into your direction. John saw the blood dripping from the cut on your forearm and furrowed his brows with concern. Helen let out a manic laugh, tightening the tarp around John’s throat which prompted the man to squirm a bit more.

Time felt slowed as the scene unfolded in front of you. Staring into your husband's eyes, he gave you a gentle nod, as though he was giving you permission. Your grip was still shaky, but you aimed the best you could and closed your eyes; pulling the trigger.

A body slumped to the floor, but the ringing in your ear clouded most sounds. Your eyes still remained shut, too scared to face whatever the outcome was. The tarp sound crinkled throughout the warehouse and footsteps approached your figure.

“Darling, it’s alright,” John’s soothing voice echoed. Finally dropping the heavy weapon, a sob escaped your throat. Your husband gently pulled you into his arms, his chin resting atop your head and arms wrapped around your body. He began whispering gentle reassurances, turning you so you couldn’t see Helen’s dead body on the ground.

---

A warm early morning breeze caused you to blink and look down at the decaf coffee in your hands. Your eyes wandered to the bandage wrapping your forearm; a grim reminder of the events that occurred last week.

You killed someone.

Granted, a bad someone, but she was still somebody.

Returning home that evening wasn’t an easy feat. You had passed out from the loss of blood and the overall shock. John told you that he got you home safely and stitched you up to avoid hospitals. Somehow, he’d also kept you hidden from the kids and the babysitter.

Every night since then, when you close your eyes you hear the bang of the gun and the body slumping to the ground. You didn’t actually see her body, which you’re grateful for. But the sounds still haunted you. Of course you hadn’t told John how you felt. How could he relate anyways? He does this for a living, the pain and emotional baggage probably doesn’t even affect him anymore.

“Mommy! James caught a snake!” Heather's eager voice broke your thoughts, and you blinked, looking at your children with Winston walking alongside them. Sure enough, in your son's grasp was a small garden snake.

“Oh gross, baby, go throw it over the fence.” You responded, shaking your head in amusement. James has really come to enjoy the local wildlife that wandered, more like slithered, around.

“But it’s cool!” He defended, holding it closer to your figure.

“Don’t bother your mother, you know she doesn’t like snakes.” John spoke, coming through the sliding glass doors to the backyard. He too carried a cup of coffee, still donning his pajamas. You gave him a gentle smile, then turned your attention back to the kids. A chorus of sorry’s came from the two of them before they ran over to the fence; Winston close behind.

“How’re you this morning?” John murmured, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I didn’t sleep well,” You sighed, eyes greeting Johns. He furrowed his brow with concern, tucking some hair behind his ear.

“Darling, is there more going on than what you’re telling me?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

“I’m just haunted.” You spoke softly, casting your eyes back down to your coffee. A gentle sigh came from your husband before a hand rested on your thigh.

“I struggle with that every day.” He responded, causing you to look back up at him.

“You do?” You questioned, raising a brow.

“Yes. But I put on a brave face and conquer the day the best I can.” John replied, scooting closer and grasping your hand into his own.

“I know she was bad, but-”

“Correct. She was, and you did the right thing.” John cut you off before you could justify anything. “The kids are safe because of you. We are safe because of you. It had to be done.”

You nodded, feeling a lump begin to form in your throat. Your mind has been so clouded by the negatives, you forgot to remember the positives that had come from that. Both you and John are alive, and your kids. Resting a hand on your belly, you felt the baby squirming around, another reminder of the good you'd done.

“It still hurts,” Your voice broke as you spoke, and a gentle tear rolled down your cheek. John was quick to wipe it away. Gently grasping your chin, he raised your face until your eyes met.

“I know a therapist for my profession. I’ll call her for you. She’s helped me through a lot. ” He spoke softly. You nodded, sniffling and wiping your eyes. Things could only go up from here. The main threat to yours and John’s future is gone, and your kids can grow up only knowing love. Your baby can be born and know nothing of the pain that you have gone through. Maybe now, your family can know peace.

“I love you, Mrs. Wick.”

“I love you too, Mr. Wick.”

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves x reader #keanu x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #john wick

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oofchris · 4 years

Photo

⌠ MADISON BAILEY, 19, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CHRISTINA ' CHRIS ' ANDERSON! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MACGYVER SURVIVAL SKILLS & NAVIGATION + PROTECTION & ENFORCEMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( speckles of dried paint on fingers, cruising round on a longboard, joints tucked behind ears wrapped in colourful papers ). when it’s the ( sagittarius )’s birthday on 12/27/2001, they always request their PHO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ mochi, 24, she/her, gmt ⍀

@gallagherintro

hi uwu, here is a new baby who is not very baby but still a lil baby

. . . it got quite long so tldr; she’s a stubborn art hoe from california who’s dad died so she’s come to gallagher bc her mom is a professor in the p+e major <3

parallels

wyldstyle — the lego movie: 85%

mulan — mulan: 84%

nymphadora tonks — harry potter: 83%

princess fiona — shrek: 83%

robin buckley — stranger things: 82%

here is a full list

HISTORY

potential triggers — car accident, parental death, divorce

so she’s grown up on on the west coast p much ??? her whole life. her mom worked as a bodyguard for sum famous peeps, dad was doctor but occasionally also a medic in the field — they didn’t always see eye to eye and divorced when chris was around nine. it was mostly to do with chris’ future like whether she’d go to spy prep school and follow in their footsteps and her dad didn’t want that for her so they disagreed, and she lived with him instead, living a more or less normal life. her mom then moved away when the opportunity to become a professor at gallagher presented itself, so they’ve really not been close at all since then

lived fairly comfortably, either way her dad had money and her mom sent support too. her father definitely earns less from no longer being in the spy world but he vowed to leave that behind when he divorced his wife and other than a few people from his past popping up unannounced, he kept that vow. they moved around a couple times in order to keep chris safe, and especially when someone did find them ( even if it was friendly ) but mostly grew up in california, and a lot of it is to do with the fact chris loves it there so much

but chris knows about the spy world, what her mom does and the type of school she works at, but it never interested her enough to try and reach out or fight her dad on it as she enjoyed her life

she remembers her mom as someone stubborn, argumentative, volatile which is the opposite of her dad who was patient, loving and endearing — so it’s a no brainer for her, she loves her dad a lot and he gave up a lot for her while her mom gave chris up for that world, her job, etc aka nada

BUT her dad died in a car accident recently that she was also in but was only a bit beaten up at most ( has some cuts / new scars, learn more below ) leaving her mother to swiftly pick her up and enrol her into gallagher, more to keep an eye on her than anything.

her mom chose her majors and some of her classes for her, which chris is mad about, but mainly bc looking at what ones were offered she’d def pick macgyver anyway, and her mom argued p+e was a step into the physical and combat side of thing without being too heavy on it ( tho it’s the major she teaches so she’s biased and chris just thinks she wants to be closer ) but tbh ? chris just doesn’t want her mom to be right whatsoever or have the satisfaction of thinking she knows her daughter in anyway at all but she knows if she went undecided she’d probably pick those up again in her second year so she’s just ‘ going with it ‘ begrudgingly as if she has no choice

PERSONALITY

extremely stubborn, which she gets from her mom, would rather ruin her life than go back on something or admit she was wrong, if she apologises for something she'll find a way to do it where she's not actually ever saying the words ' im sorry ' or ' i was wrong ' and would rather start another argument than do that — but obviously she loves other people apologising to her

she is generally nice ??? i just think she can be irritated easy ?????? like a bit of a hot head tho she'd argue she's chill, she is mostly chill but likes to debate, be right, and can be very my way or the high way at times — i’ll figure her out more as i play her bc i can’t tell if she’s mean or not but i don’t think so, just a bit tougher than she needs to be

in my head she’s like a seb/luc hybrid so . . . take that as you will

doesn’t dislike gallagher ( mostly ) but thinks all the legacies — even tho she technically is one, she doesn’t identify as one — are entitled spoiled brats and should get their heads out of their ass, doesn't like that being a legacy is even a thing though a lot of it definitely comes from her bitter resentment towards her mom and how she'd have rather leave her and her dad than leave the spy life hbsjhbsjhb also i think bc of her mom she has level 5 clearance which . . . she’s not complaining about but definitely complaining that clearance levels are even a thing, she’s gonna contradict herself a lot, i feel it

MISC

i THINK she’s only arrived, like, at the start of spring semester tbh, she wasn’t here for fall so she is new new

halfway through her first year at stanford studying art alongside film and media as a minor before her mom brought her to gallagher — which she's kind of not happy about like she understands her dad didn't want it for her, she also wanted to just stay in california but the only family she has now is on her mom's side.

she's still enrolled at stanford, though dropped her minor, and is studying online for her major as she's made it clear to her mom she doesn't want to be a spy so she pulled a few strings with the stanford admission board to allow her studying to continue ( idek if this is allowed i'm just pretending her mom is powerful enough to do it ) — it was a big reason chris agreed to come to gallagher, not that she had much of a choice, bc she wants her ‘ normal ‘ life and her ‘ normal ‘ degree regardless of being at a spy school

only her mom calls her christina and she actually hates it so pls dont unless you are trying to get on her bad side — also she probs avoids her mom like the plague so don’t bring that up either

often covered in little cuts and bruises from her skating but she’s got two fresh / soon to be scars on the left side of her face on the top of her cheek bone and on her jaw from a shards of glass when she was in the car accident — she is the type to pick her scabs until they bleed again, too, so i picture her with loads of little scars especially on her hands, elbows and knees

she did learn self defense from her dad growing up and she has studied jiujitsu and akido since she was around thirteen, she also boxes but it's more casual like for stress and stuff rather than something she takes overly seriously

she likes surfing, diving, enjoys the kind of world that exists underwater where it's just peaceful and calm so she will be around the lake a lot / at the pool if you need to find her

she’s 5’3 and never wears heels

pansexual and while it might change i wanna say she's not overly sexual, like wouldn't have hookups for no reason ?? but potentially some one night stands or drunken mistakes or whatever. doesn't look down on sluts but i think she doesn't have the most confidence in that area, or in self esteem in general, so she'll ??? only really have a frequent thing if she feels Hella comfortable

the type to have crushes tho, but not act on them at all bc again self esteem issues

bit of a tomboy, skater, stoner — though she wouldn't identify as one — really loves movies and can be a proper filmophile, probably has more film soundtracks on her spotify unwrapped than she does actual artists and don't get her started on Women— in film bc she won't stop

very active, sporty, probs trying to parkour around campus

enjoys painting, sketching, simply creating things — often is filming, riding a longboard, working on some kind of little project she'll take too seriously but won't show people until it's perfect

is a little pretentious at times ??? doesn't necessarily mean to be but if it's a debate on a topic she's passionate about ( such as art, film, etc ) then she will try to ensure you know just how knowledgeable she is on it, she's not afraid to flex but she wouldn't outwardly flex for no reason if that makes sense

she also . . . feels p dumb at gallagher tbh, a lot of her strengths lie in her creativity and art and now she’s very ??? wtf am i doing ?? but she will continue to act like she knows !

can speak english, french, german and spanish all pretty fluently, italian well enough to get by, knows a bit of japanese bc she’s . . . a weeb sometimes but also bc of her martial arts

CONNECTIONS

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( SPY ) — so this would more than likely be before her parents divorce, but she’s not against keeping in contact a little if she liked you, it could have also been a family who reached out to her dad afterwards because while he’d move away / hide his location promptly after, he would still help them if they needed it ( 1 / ? )

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( NON SPY ) — same thing, but would have probably been after the divorce, just normal families that her and her dad knew, neighbours, work colleagues, school friends, would more than likely have also needed to be west coast sorta area but if your muse was there briefly, they could have kept in contact once they’d left ( 0 / ? )

LEGACIES — she potentially . . . won’t like you if you’re a legacy and you are egotistical / assholey even a tiny bit, bc that basically proves her argument that they’re ALL like that jshbjsbjs but i wud like her to have legacies that she . . . hates that she likes as well, i think she’ll realise p quickly most are fine lmao

ART HOES — whether they’re into painting as well and they do it together or they let her paint them !

SMOKE / SKATE BUDS — one or the other, both, whatever !!

A HOOK UP THAT’S EITHER ALREADY HAPPENED OR GOING TO — in my head she’s a bit ??? w sex tbh so maybe plot this out a bit more but can be a ?? positive relationship or a negative one idm

CRUSHES !!!!!!!!! — she’s not even been at the school long but im certain she probs has some already

i’m not good w wanted connections so pls just hmu if u have ideas and as usual like dis for plots / jus message me, i’ll be on discord !! if you don’t have/use discord just message me first on tumblr bc otherwise i wont realise jhbsjhbjhbsj

#GOD ITS SO LONG #gallagher:intro

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wolf08 · 4 years

Text

The Art of Seduction

A/N: Surprise! I couldn’t resist taking a break from my other work to participate in SasuSaku Month 2020. I missed fic writing so much and had a blast with this. Hope you enjoy. :)

Prompt: Let’s play pretend (Sorry, I know I’m like 5 days late lol)

Summary: Kakashi Hatake, Sixth Hokage and the mastermind behind the infamous bell test, had just the trick for igniting the inevitable romantic spark between his beloved students: assign Sakura a seduction mission. Blank period. SasuSaku. Available on fanfiction.net and AO3.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction using characters from the NarutoTM world, which is trademarked by Masashi Kishimoto. The story I tell here is created for entertainment only and is not part of the official NarutoTM storyline. I do not profit financially from this story.

Tags: Humour, fluff and humour, mutual pining, attempted seduction, awkwardness

Words: 3463

***

The Art of Seduction

***

“Hey – what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

One sunny afternoon, amidst Sasuke and Sakura’s private travels, while Sakura was rinsing her tired feet and Sasuke was sharpening their weapons after weeks of climbing mountains and hiking through forests, the duo was unexpectedly interrupted.

“That! Flying straight at us!” Sakura shouted and leaping clear out of the rushing brook, over the rocky shore, and onto the surrounding grass.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and glanced in the direction of the disturbance.

“A bird,” he said simply without budging from his shady spot at the foot of a large oak tree.

Sakura rolled her eyes before breaking out into a grin. “Not just any bird – it’s the Hokage’s messenger hawk!”

This piqued Sasuke’s interest. It had been months since the pair had heard a peep from their home village, after all.

As it happened, the bird was carrying a scroll addressed to Sakura.

“What does Kakashi want?” Sasuke asked, while hopping to his feet and joining his companion by the brook. Sakura was crouched by the rocky shore, eagerly unravelling the scroll.

Sasuke watched her closely– taking in the emotion brimming behind her emerald eyes and her trembling fingers.

She misses home, Sasuke thought, his chest tightening. Though he didn’t blame her, Sasuke just hoped she didn’t miss home too much.

He didn’t express it much, but Sasuke thoroughly enjoyed his lively travelling companion’s company. And he really didn’t want her to leave.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the hopefulness drained from Sakura’s face as she scanned the letter. She pouted and scrunched her eyebrows together (a rather adorable expression, in Sasuke’s opinion, all things considered).

“What, Sakura?” he asked and drawing closer, crouching beside her, and hoping beyond hope this wasn’t bad news.

“It’s… a mission assignment.”

There was confusion written all over her features. Sasuke didn’t blame her.

“But you’re with me. We’re already on a mission,” he mused while reaching for the scroll to have a look himself, but, to his surprise, Sakura tugged the scroll out of his reach, colour rising in her face.

Sasuke blinked. “Sakura..?”

She twisted away from him, her face buried in the scroll and her cheeks a similar hue as her pale, pink hair. “It’s assigned just to me. And it’s a… weird one,” she said quietly, like she couldn’t believe what she was reading.

“What’s the mission?” Sasuke asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

“A seduction mission.”

***

Sakura paced back and forth through the grassy clearing in bare feet, hands clasped behind her back, and feeling stressed out of her mind. Sakura had never been assigned a seduction mission before. She had most certainly fantasized about doing one, back in her early teenage days, as most young kunoichi did. Because there had been a certain thrill in using her sex appeal as a weapon against an unsuspecting opponent. It was the perfect blindside.

But these times were different.

Nowadays, Sakura would much rather spend her time exploring the land with her beloved travelling partner than seduce strangers. And, to boot, Sakura had never been particularly confident in her ability to sway someone romantically (with her ever-so-distant object of affection compounding her self-doubts).

Sasuke’s reaction to her mission had been rather hard to read. He seemed puzzled as he read the letter over a couple of times himself. “Do you do these often?” he asked with raised eyebrows, his voice catching ever so slightly.

“No, never,” she groaned and crossing her arms.

This is going to be terrible, she thought. Failing to make a move on the love of her life even once during their months travelling alone together told her as much. Although she and Sasuke had undoubtedly grown closer and were teetering on the edge of being in a relationship – between their heated looks and gentle touches – nothing outwardly romantic had actually transpired between them.

And now Sakura was expected to leave to seduce someone else?

Some wing man you are, Kakashi-sensei.

“Then why’d he assign you?” Sasuke wondered with narrowed eyes while pocketing the scroll.

Sakura shrugged. “Well, we’re only a few miles away from the village that the… target is currently in. I bet Kakashi-sensei has been tracking our whereabouts and picked me because of proximity. Plus the target isn’t staying there much longer so I’ll need to set out first thing tomorrow.”

According to the mission assignment, the target in question was an important Wind Country delegate who (rumour had it) was involved in a human trafficking scheme. Apparently he was known as being a bit of a ladies man – thus, Sakura presumed, seduction tactics were a straight-forward means of extracting information from him.

“Hm,” Sasuke said.

“But I don’t know the first thing about seducing someone!” Sakura fumed, hands on her hips as she resumed her pacing. “Kakashi-sensei screwed up. It’s gonna be a total flop.”

Sasuke was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said before returning to the shade of the tree and resuming his task of sharpening their weapons.

Sakura watched as he ran a hand through his black, mused hair and grabbed a kunai and ran the blade along the sharpening stone with determined, aggressive motions. His expression was impassive, with his dark eyes focused on the task and his mouth frowning in concentration.

Sakura turned away, as not to be caught ogling at her handsome companion.

But that was when she was struck with an idea. An embarrassing, yet intriguing idea.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun?” she asked, feeling her face warm in anticipation.

He glanced at her. “What?”

She returned his gaze. “How do you do it?” Sakura asked bravely. “You know, women practically faint in your presence. How do you get their attentions so easily?”

Sakura figured he was a neutral party on the matter, and she was willing to follow any advice she could get her hands on. After all, she could personally attest to the effect her travelling companion had on women, so surely he had some advice.

Sasuke redirected his stare to something on the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and joined him beneath the tree. “Oh sure you don’t,” she teased. She plopped down right in front of him. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t help but smirk because Sasuke looked about as uneasy as she felt, his face tinted pink and his eyebrow twitching as he tried to avoid looking at her. “C’mon. What’s your secret?”

He looked up and there was something almost pleading in his dark eyes. “Sakura, believe me. I have no clue what I’m doing,” he said. He held her gaze and Sakura’s heart skipped a beat for some reason. But she ignored it.

She pouted. Maybe he’s right – he’s just so effortlessly attractive that he doesn’t even have to try.

Sakura felt a dip in her confidence as she was reminded that the two of them weren’t in the same leagues.

But she needed to try anyways.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But I need your help because I don’t know what I’m doing either and I need to complete this mission. And you’re the only person I have to consult.”

Sasuke eyed her apprehensively as she resumed her pacing.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s mind wandered. What on earth was she to wear for this mission? She only had training gear with her and she certainly didn’t have any make-up on hand. With such a tight schedule, a shopping trip was out of the question. Should she just wear her undergarments – her spandex shorts and black band around her chest?

I’ll feel uncomfortable wearing something that revealing, Sakura thought, her heartrate quickening. Did she really have to change her appearance that much, or was it more about her demeanor – how she moved and how her voice sounded, or whatever?

Ugh, I’m so confused!

Sakura gritted her teeth and stopped her pacing. Abruptly, she turned to face Sasuke square on. He was sipping from a water canteen, watching her curiously. “You’re a guy,” she pointed out. “Let’s pretend you’re my target. What would seduce you?”

Sasuke swallowed a mouthful of water with a profound gulp.

He blinked at her after that, eyebrow twitching again. He opened his mouth and closed it, faltering.

Sakura realized perhaps her question was too loaded. Let’s back it up, then. “How about – what are you attracted to in a woman? Let’s start with that.”

She watched him expectedly.

Sasuke seemed particularly fascinated by a knife he was sharpening when he said, “Um. Strength.”

“Strength,” Sakura repeated, a bit flatly. Really?

“And intelligence,” Sasuke added, his head tilted down and his eyes concealed from view behind his hair.

The knife he was sharpening really couldn’t get any sharper.

Sakura folded her arms and reflected on Sasuke’s comments. I wonder if he thinks I’m strong and smart enough to be attractive? Despite her generally low self-esteem, Sakura was fairly confident that she excelled in both of those areas, especially now.

She felt the tiniest tinge of hope. If that’s what he’s into, maybe I’ve got a shot?

But that was besides the point. She had a mission to focus on.

Did other men look for strength and intelligence in women? She wasn’t sure. Either way, it would be hard to show off those qualities to her target, unless she challenged him to an arm wrestling contest or a game of cards.

Sakura suspected there were more straight-forward ways to seduce a stranger.

She sighed. “This would be so much easier if I were talking to Naruto,” she groaned while leaning against a protruding rock between the brook and the tree. Sakura had a feeling that said Hokage-in-the-making had an arsenal of strategies for seducing men – given his experience using those very strategies in the guise of his Sexy Jutsu.

Sasuke turned to her, a trace of competitiveness in his eyes, before he seemed to remember what they were talking about and turned away.

It seemed he was willing to accept defeat from his rival on this particular matter.

“Okay, how about looks? You must have thoughts about looks, at least?” Sakura tried.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking?”

She felt her heartrate quicken again, for some reason. “I mean, what do you find seductive about a woman’s appearance?” she clarified.

I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

As anticipated, Sasuke looked dumbfounded by her question. But he at least seemed to be thinking about it, given his thoughtful stare into the distance with his eyebrows furrowed.

It was kind of him to play along and try to help – despite his clear discomfort. Sakura felt a stab of empathy and decided to ask what she felt was an easier question.

Thinking back to their Genin days, and Ino’s insistence that Sasuke preferred certain hairstyles on girls, Sakura asked, “For instance – should I change my hair?”

There wasn’t much she could do about its length or colour – unless she got her hands on a wig, somehow. But maybe she could style it differently, by tying it up or braiding it?

“No,” Sasuke replied curtly.

“Okay… what about make-up?”

Sasuke shook his head before getting up with the water canteen in hand. “No. You’re fine,” he said, and making his way towards the brook.

Sakura looked up, her heart fluttering slightly because maybe that meant he liked the way she looked.

Or maybe he was just trying to end the conversation.

Sasuke crouched on the rocky shore of the brook, dipping the canteen beneath its surface for a top-up.

Sakura’s eyes roamed skyward to the tuffs of clouds, her mind running astray. She didn’t mean to torment Sasuke with this awkward conversation, but she really did need all the help she could get. She imagined herself entering a darkened pub to execute her mission. She just had to pull this off, somehow, because if her enemies caught onto her, it could turn into a dangerous situation – not for her personally, for surely she could pummel her enemy if she needed to, but there could be larger international strain if she was caught spying.

Sakura closed her eyes as she imagined approaching her target at the bar. She would introduce herself, start some small talk… and then…?

“Maybe I should touch him… suggestively. But not too inappropriately, you know?” she mused.

“No, I have no clue what you mean,” Sasuke chimed in. He was now sitting on the shore with his shoes discarded and pants rolled up, his feet resting in the cool, rushing stream as he replenished their supply of drinking water.

Sakura carried on. “You know – like running my fingers along his hands, caressing his face, or something. Maybe that would work?”

Once again, Sasuke seemed very fixated on his task. “Maybe,” he said.

But Sakura wasn’t really paying attention to him. She was in her own world now, talking through a scenario she was playing out in her head.

She imagined Tsunade or Ino – two of the most sought-after woman that Sakura knew – walking into a bar and harnessing the attention of most men they passed.

What was their secret?

“I know – maybe it’s just a confidence thing,” Sakura realized. “Maybe it’s more about how I say things.”

She stood up with vigour, facing the general direction of the tree, paced forward deliberately, swaying her hips and imagining that her target was before her. She ran a hand through her hair in a way she imagined must be at least somewhat attractive, and said, “Like what if I walk right up and whisper in his ear –” (Sakura cleared her throat and tried out a low and husky tone) “- I want you. You want me. Let’s get naked. And… And…”

Sakura faltered. I can’t do it, she thought while dropping to her knees.

Then she remembered her silent audience and peered in Sasuke’s direction nervously. To her horror, he was indeed watching her, his eyes wide and his lips pursed – like he was supressing a smirk.

He thinks I’m ridiculous. Sakura put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. This is embarrassing. I’m so bad at this.”

Sasuke shook his head and stood up, capping the water canteen.

“I’m such a lost cause,” Sakura continued. “I don’t even have a nice outfit to wear.” She fiddled with the zipper at the front of her dress absent-mindedly. “But maybe if I just remove my training clothes slowly enough, it’ll distract him from the stupid things I’m saying. Then I’ll just have to hope that –”

Sakura was interrupted by Sasuke grabbing her wrist, squeezing just hard enough to force her to release the zipper.

She turned to him, startled. “Sasuke-kun?”

He looked a little conflicted – perhaps over being amused and angry – and there was a bit of colour on his face again. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a blood vessel was about to burst in his temple. “That might work,” he said. “Don’t do it.” He gave her a pointed look and stalked back towards the tree.

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” Sakura asked his retreating figure, feeling more confused than ever.

“You’ll do fine, Sakura,” Sasuke mumbled with a dismissive air.

Sakura folded her arms and watched him pace away, not quite sure what to make of his comment.

She sighed again and muttered, “I wish I could just kick the guy’s ass.”

***

Sakura woke abruptly to the sounds of scuffling and snapping twigs.

Wasting no time, she grabbed a kunai from her weapon pouch and sprang to her feet in one fluid motion.

Damn it, Sakura thought. She was planning to set out for the seduction mission today – and how untimely it would be to get ambushed now.

That was when she realized that Sasuke, who had fallen asleep beside her under the looming oak tree, was missing.

Sakura felt a swell of panic as her eyes darted around. And then she heard more scuffling, and this time, a male voice yelling (though muffled slightly) from somewhere through the trees ahead.

Sakura inhaled sharply and raced through the trees, knife in hand, towards the source of the disturbance. And then, moments later, Sakura arrived on a perplexing scene.

“Sasuke-kun?” she asked and slowly lowering her knife.

Her travelling companion was standing there, wearing his usual black travelling cloak, with his back facing her. Evidently, he was just fine.

It was the man bound to the tree who didn’t look fine.

Sasuke turned towards her. He seemed a little surprised by her presence. “Good morning,” he said evenly.

“Good… what the heck is going on?!” Sakura exclaimed as she approached the pair of them, studying the bound man carefully. She didn’t recognize the guy whatsoever. But Sasuke wasn’t the type of person to capture strangers for no reason, so surely he had an explanation for this. “I’ve got a mission to complete today, so this had better be important!”

Sasuke turned to her, his expression calm. “There’s no need for you to go anywhere – this is your guy,” he said simply, and gesturing towards the bound man like he was presenting a gift.

Sakura’s jaw dropped. “So… you’re telling me that you abducted the man I was supposed to seduce?” Sakura asked and massaging her temples, the puzzle pieces coming together. She felt a tinge of relief come over her because normal interrogations were much more up her alley than seduction missions.

But something still didn’t add up. “Why?” she asked.

The man bound to the tree nodded stiffly and mumbled against his mouth restraints – apparently just as keen to find out what Sasuke was planning. He had a long, straight nose, grey streaks through his black hair, and expensive-looking pyjamas.

Yep, looks like an important delegate to me, Sakura thought.

Sasuke folded his arms, closed his eyes, and turned away slightly. “I knew you were stressed about the mission so I helped,” he explained. “I figure you can just ask him your questions here and I’ll wipe his memory with my Sharingan when you’re finished.”

He didn’t seem terribly concerned that the target could hear all of his.

Sakura frowned. Sure, it was nice of Sasuke to lend a hand, but Sakura found herself feeling angry. “So you didn’t think I was capable of doing the mission so you decided to intervene,” she snapped, rounding on him.

Sasuke turned to face her fully, eyes wide. “No, you’re capable..”

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “So you just didn’t want me to go on the mission.” Boldly, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No, I didn’t,” he finally admitted. And then, yet another surprise, Sasuke brought a hand to Sakura’s face, tracing her temple, cheek bone, and jaw with the tips of his fingers.

That’s a caress to the face if I ever saw one! she thought as a shiver raced down her spine. She was unable to look away. “Because you don’t want me seducing men,” she added with a smirk while she gazed at Sasuke’s face. Her heart was in her throat for being this close to him.

Sasuke’s fingers paused around her chin. His face was very close to hers now. “Because I don’t want you seducing other men,” he corrected quietly.

Sakura stared at him, processing the implications of his words as her face grew hot, and he leaned in closer. His nose was mere inches from hers, his breath warm on her face. Sakura’s eyes fluttered closed.

It’s happening! It’s finally happening!

“Ahem.”

Sakura startled and jumped about ten feet away from Sasuke. Enraged, she whirled in the direction of the disturbance and found that their captive, still tied to the tree, had chewed through his mouth binds and was glaring at them.

“Not that this isn’t fun, but if it’s not too late to change plans, I much prefer the one where this girl seduces me.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, her face still burning, as she smoothed out her hair.

That’s when she heard a familiar chirping sound. A sideways glance confirmed the Chidori in Sasuke’s palm. But even more menacing was the glare he was directing at their target.

“Sasuke-kun – wait! Just let me interrogate him first, okay? Then we can get back to… where we left off?”

Sasuke shot her a calculating look, eyes narrowed. He swallowed. It seemed he was quite torn between doing as Sakura asked or immediately murdering the guy tied to the tree. But in the end he caved, sitting on the ground with a humph, waiting impatiently for Sakura to finish her questioning.

Sakura hoped Kakashi wouldn’t be too disappointed that she’d failed to follow the instructions for the mission.

Then again, another part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was the outcome Kakashi planned for all along.

#ssm20 #ssm20d8 #sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku month #mutual pining #wolf08fic

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heirtotheskies · 4 years

Note

Where were they born? What is the story behind their birth, if any?

Your Muse’s Backstory

@heartlessmasks

[[ Truth be told there were some raised questions when his feathers started coming in. Naturally, Teba was born in Rito Village, his parents both being Dusky hawks, both of which are still alive. They waited the day for their child to hatch, taking turns in caring for the egg. It is an exciting time for a new generation to come into the world even if in danger. The pair listened to his peeps while breaking out of the egg, tiny body taking breaks to breathe. As much as they wanted to assist, they knew they couldn’t interfere. Baby had to do this on his own. As soon as he was free, they wrapped the red hatchling up to keep him safe from the cold as his feathers hadn’t grown in.

They named the little one Teba, meaning wings, and weren’t surprised that his downy feathers started out puffy white. This was expected once he was just a few days old. However, brows began to rise when his flight feathers came in ... and they were still white. Dark grey with deep brown would have been mildly surprising but, a white offspring from them? Accusations of unfaithfulness were immediately shut down as there were no other white Ritos. A case of albinism was suspected but, since Teba opened with citrine eyes, the reason behind his unique coloration was a mystery.

Ngl, I am really glad to get this question ever since I got this piece of info

Ok, if the image doesn’t load it says “Teba was originally a brown color, since he is based on a hawk, but in order to differentiate him as the village’s number-one warrior, I made him white, which is unique among the rest of the Rito.” ]]

#heartlessmasks #About the Muse #Thank you!#Diary Entries 🔲 Headcanons #Still Busy 🔲 Answered Asks #Long Post

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therucrap · 4 years

Text

The RuCrap: Season 13 episode 2!

Holler at me I know you know me! Holler at me I know you know me! Episode 2 of the RuCrap has arrived! Once again please help out a writer in the pandemic by sharing & following! Enjoy!

We crawl back into RuPaul’s tangled web of elimination fuckery where we left off in Porkchop’s Loading Deck with the dejected Denali, Tamisha Iman, Joey Jay, Rosé, Kahmora Hall, Utica, and Elliott with 2 T’s who must now begrudgingly vote to put one of these complete strangers out of her misery! It’s a tie between wide-eyed carpool mom Elliott and neon sock puppet Utica and Ru bellows over the PA like the evil middle school principal that she is to inform her pupils that they must now vote between the two super-losers. Ultimately Elliott with 2 T’s becomes Elliott with 2 eliminations and it’s the final heartless slap of a drawn out and unreasonably brutal elimination even for Lord Ru’s medieval standards but we’re 13 years into this big gay carnival of trauma and Stockholm Syndrome is in full effect so let’s quickly move on, sympathize with our captors, and for God’s sake never return to Porkchop’s haunted She Shed ever again!

It’s day 2 and our previous winners GottMik, Lala Ri, Symone, Olivia Lux, Kandy Muse, and Tina Burner burst into the Werk Room none the wiser of the fate of the fallen and are greeted by Ru who wastes no time shaking things up by announcing that a new queen will be joining them and before the girls can even process... in walks Elliott with two T’s! Yes that’s right! After a full episode of push and pull with the drag poltergeist our poor Carol Anne is spit back into the competition covered in ectoplasm, her weary eyes now holding the unfathomable secrets of the other side, and once again we’ve taken the scenic route on one of RuPaul’s notorious twists that brought us right back to square one! But what would this winding shaggy dog joke of a premiere wrench be without our evil mastermind shoe-horning in a sappy life lesson? Ru momentarily softens to take us down memory lane and celebrate first-eliminated queens who went on to become superstars and explains that the moral of the fairy tale is “Don’t let anyone make you feel like a loser” which is ironic coming straight from the diabolical puppet master who determined Elliott a loser last week and then sent her to a small storage crate backstage to be called a loser two more times by her fellow competitors. It’s like Mike Tyson popping into Evander Holyfield’s dressing room after their fight to tell him that he could learn a thing or two about not feeling like he just had his ear bitten off. I haven’t been this confused by the manipulative rationale of an egomaniac since Shangela tried to justify going on vacation to Puerto Vallarta in a pandemic to sell $10 scented hand sanitizers in hotel lobbies. Ru tells our newly revamped winner’s circle to prepare to hit the runway to showcase a ladylike daytime look and a whorish campy nighttime look and like that they’re off!

Our models gussy up at the makeup stations and resident shit-stirrers Re-Tina George and Kandy Weiners greet Elliott with folded arms, bizarrely speculating about her intentions in returning (um... because RuPaul told her to?) and calling her “Elliott the Spy” (oh Golly) as if they aren’t all just prey in RuPaul’s Most Dangerous Game. Lest we forget that Elliott has cheated death twice already and instead of letting their poking rile her up she plays on Kandy’s paranoia. When Kandy expresses her excitement in finally being a Ru girl like her sisters, Elliott bluntly notes that historically queens related to past contestants haven’t faired well in the competition. Instantly frustrated by this valid counter-point, Kandy grumbles under her breath at the audacity of someone challenging her advanced wit and bless us all because a rivalry has begun!

We head to the blackbox runway for America’s Next Top Trauma where Ty-Ru Banks, Jan-chelle Dicken-sage, and Nigel Matthews are perched awaiting this year’s installment of the world’s tiniest fashion show which serves as much of a OMG-Yas-Queen showcase of fashion excellence as it does an ominous warning of what fashion storylines we’ll be bludgeoned over the head with. The trends this season are Olivia Lux’s Polly Pocket purses and whether we like it or not Tina the Heat Miser is going to is going to be dressed in a combination of orange, red, and yellow until every last VH1 viewer has fully gotten the pun in her name, taste be damned. As for the rest of our fashion darlings — GottMik and Symone are unpredictable couture shape-shifters who ace the showcase, confident Kandy shows that audacity is her strong suit, Elliott does decently but plays it safe, and Lala borders on mall fashion show.

Ru informs the queens they’ll be penning verses for and performing her catchphrase conduit Condragulations. Professional dancer Elliott proves her worth by stepping forward to save an otherwise unproductive rehearsal but things grind to a halt when it’s time to choreograph GottMik’s verse which begins “GottMik - was born a girl baby!” Mik (who later clarifies that she/her/hers pronouns are to be used in the drag context and he/him/his otherwise) instantly freezes and tells us in confessional that she hasn’t told her transition story to the group and didn’t consider the fact that this proclamation would be blaring loudly on the runway before she had the chance. The moment is clearly visceral for the usually unshakable Mik but the preoccupied group is mostly unaware and is more concerned as to why the now distracted Mik is unable to learn the routine.

It’s challenge day and the queens begin painting! Mik comes out as trans to a comforting Olivia while camera hogs Kandy and Tina continue to go full Red Scare on Elliott who they believe was sent back into the competition to spy on them... whatever that could possibly mean. When the topic turns to the competition almost everyone identifies the already well-established Mik as their biggest threat and I would have to agree.

We hit the Main Stage where director/ choreographer Jamal Sims joins the judges in an outfit that suggests he also moonlights as a matador. Condragulations goes off mostly without a snag and Lala, Tina, Kandy, and Elliott deliver the most confident verses, Olivia steals the fashion spotlight once again, and Kandy fumbles the choreography. The runway theme is Lamé You Stay and the judges favor Mik, Olivia, Symone, and Tina but still praise Lala, Kandy, and Elliott for an overall impressive week and Ru announces that Olivia and Symone are the top two and no one is in the bottom. They deliver synchronized, playful versions of Break My Heart by Dula Peep but it’s Symone who snatches the $5,000 tip making her our first big winner of the season!

That brings us to the end once again with a full cast but that can only mean one thing... poltergeist is getting that much hungrier! Next week our exiled queens from Pork Chop Island will return for their own premiere! Share the RuCrap if you enjoy and I’ll see you on the other side of the TV, Carol Anne!

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