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mamamittens · 2 years

Note

Oh man your asks must be jumping! Jumping! Well I want in on the bouncy house.

Lemme get uhhhmmm

Caramel chocolate with pop rocks and candy corn, a water with strawberries with a shot of mind eraser and to wash it down a hot damn. All for me, because soy goloso:3 with Eustass Kid from one piece. I'm M!Afab and femme presenting and like to explore with alt fashion. I'd like to add I'm dark skinned and a have my curves but have a bit of a tummy and stretch marks. Do with that as you like

Can't wait to see what work of art you come up with!

Well, I hope you have fun on your date! (Hope this is what you had in mind lol)

Date Night Event!

Warnings: Aggressive, horny behavior from Kid. Arranged marriage. Accidental misgendering at the start. Clothed grinding against a door, degradation, praise kink, (bonus) oral sex, table sex, and possibly a marriage kink in there somewhere. Implied sex as a behavior reward.

Word Count: 3,014

Kid couldn’t help the sneer on his lips at the overly polished, glitz and glam of the upscale restaurant he had to visit. Unfortunately, this was non-negotiable as it would be his first time meeting his fiancée. Hardly his decision or idea—why the fuck would he ever want to get married to anyone let alone a stranger—but he was stuck with it. So he had to sit still and try not to rip up the expensive suit he would have sworn he never owned before tonight.

“Eustass, I assume?” A soft voice called from his side. Kid jolted in revulsion for a moment—no one called him that under threat of death what the hell—before his attention was immediately drawn to her. His fiancée.

He hated how damn good she looked.

Dark pantsuit that hugged her curves, modest enough to pass muster in this uppity hell hole but with an edge. Red accents in her heels and makeup that Kid almost wished he knew was on purpose because fuck was that his color. And hers, clearly. Hair pinned back with a few strands brushing her dark skin. She looked fine as hell.

Like sin in a business meeting and if this was any other moment or place he’d make it personal.

Instead he has to deal with the fact that he doesn’t want to fucking be here, he didn’t choose to be here, and this is all obligation. He likes to fuck for fun but damnit at least they both want it when he does.

No way in hell would this hot piece of ass be here if it wasn’t for obligation.

“Just Kid is fine.” He huffed, shifting in his seat to relieve the pressure on his erection. “Let’s get this over with.” He snarled, tipping his chin towards the menus laid out on the table. She looked a little startled at his brisk attitude and he couldn’t help but take satisfaction from it.

He wasn’t nice on a good day. Better to get used to it before they’re married so that maybe they won’t be totally fucking miserable together.

Fuck does it burn that the only way he’d bag her is through an arranged marriage. He can’t take satisfaction in anything knowing neither one of them meant to be here.

“Are we ready to order?” A waiter asked, startling Kid a bit. He bit out his order of steak and wine. Hopeful that the booze will take off the edge of his temper.

It wouldn’t but it never stopped him from trying before. His fiancée ordered in turn, a fancy pasta with shrimp and wine. The waiter nodded his head before excusing himself.

“So, tell me about yourself.” She asked with a polite smile that pissed him off with how pretty and cloying it felt. Like she gave a shit.

“Well, for starters I hate nosy bitches.” Kid snapped, glaring at her.

Instead of withering under his gaze like he expected, her dark eyes narrowed as her painted lips pursed slightly. She looked pissed and Kid was pissed off at how even slight anger looked good on her. He wanted to reach over and smear her lipstick. Smudge the kohl around her eyes and pull her hair.

Find something—some expression or disarray that she wouldn’t look like his wet dream in.

And Kid suspected—seething at the unfairness of it all—that he would fail miserably like the sad, horny bastard he is.

“Well, I’m not signing a piece of paper tying myself to a man when I don’t even know his favorite color. So, you better learn to put up with a nosy bitch and pull the stick out of your ass.” Kid wished he had sat for a fitting in his suit. Maybe then the inseam would allow for the raging hard on. As sudden as it happened, her sneer turned into that polite smile as the waiter brought their wine. “Thank you. Leave the bottle, please. I suspect I’ll need it.”

“Better bring another.” Kid snapped, receiving a stern look from his fiancée for his terse treatment of the poor waiter.

He wasn’t sure if it was his inherent desire to defy authority or his horny ass desire for his fiancée that led him to wonder if she could keep up that look if he fucked her over the table. He hadn’t even sipped at his wine and he already was dangerously close to an act of public indecency. The sheer, dark promise of satisfaction sank deep into his chest. They’d have to consummate the marriage eventually. And when they did, Kid was fucking ready to show her something more than obligation. Until she begged for it, even.

They were stuck in this shitty ass situation but he’d be damned if he didn’t to bend her over at least once.

Until then, he’d just have to bite back the heavy weight of blue balls.

“We’ve only been here ten minutes and you’re already such an insufferable dick, Kid.” She sighed, taking a long sip of wine. Kid slammed back his, not even tasting the expensive booze. “Are you going to be like this all the time? Is this what I have to look forward to?” She smacked his hand when he reached for the bottle just as the waiter brought Kid his own.

She pulled out a crisp hundred and handed it to the surprised waiter.

“Oh. Are you already leaving, miss?” He asked, “I’ll get the check.”

“No, no. This is an advance on my tip for dealing with him. This is going to be rough for both of us.” She commiserated with a soft smile as the waiter smiled back awkwardly, pocketing the money.

Oh, he’d fucking show her rough—

Kid sneered and started drinking straight from the bottle. He didn’t give a shit anymore. If he didn’t get buzzed fast, he was going to personally ruin that makeup and tight pantsuit. Right here in the uppity restaurant.

Kid refrained from speaking anymore, distantly aware that he’d embarrass the fuck out of himself if he opened his mouth for anything other than more wine. Either by reflexively snipping at his fiancée to hide his carnal desire or being patronized for his behavior. She simply sat back and took small sips from her wine, glaring at him from across the table—literally doing nothing but making him more aggressively horny.

The food was both a welcome distraction and a horrifying realization that soon every dinner would be like this.

Husband and wife, sitting across a table and pissed to be there.

The food was fucking delicious but biting into the high-quality steak did little to help him restrain himself. It melted on his tongue, parting for his fork without even using a knife. Seasoned to perfection, Kid bitterly wished he could enjoy it.

And normally he would.

But right now? Right now, he needed something tougher to sink his teeth into. A distraction from how poised his fiancée looked swirling up steaming hot pasta and eating without smearing her lipstick. The pleased sound that made Kid wonder if she’d make the same noise if he was between her thick thighs. She’d probably taste even better than the damn steak.

Maybe having horny thoughts about eating out his fiancée while actually eating a steak so soft it falls apart on his tongue wasn’t helping his erection. Just maybe. Could also be the wine at this point. Whisky made him a rough fuck but wine… well, wine made him get lost in his bed partner until they cried for his cock.

“At least you’re enjoying something tonight.” Kid snarked. She gave him an unimpressed look, swirling up another wad of pasta and tangled up shrimp.

“Well, I can’t really enjoy the company, can I?” She said.

“Like you wanted to be here to begin with.” Kid drank heavily from the bottle. “But guess what, sweet cheeks? This is only the start! Guess you’ll just have to get used to this as my future wife, won’t you?” Kid raised his bottle, aware he was being a massive asshole.

“To miserable company.” Then he slammed it back until it was empty. When he sat the bottle down, gasping for air, he sputtered. Wine thrown at him.

Snarling, he was shocked to find his fiancée standing up from the table. Sneering at him.

“I guess it was too much to expect my future husband to not be such a miserable fucking bastard. We’re well-matched at least, in our disappointment with our partners. I wanted to know the man I’d marry would be my partner. My equal, if nothing else. But you’re just a drunk prick.” She huffed. “And you won’t have a wife at all, for all that you clearly didn’t want one. At least have the courtesy to not be a complete dick and call me what I am. Your future husband. Have a good day, Kid.” She slammed down money and stormed off. Leaving Kid spiraling.

Dazed, he flagged down the waiter and added his own money to the table for the mess and show he helped create. Tipping generously after being given a towel to wipe his face.

When the cool night air hit him, his phone was in hand instantly.

“Killer… I fucked up. Do you know where my fiancé lives?” The startled grunt was all he needed. “Great. Give me a ride. I’m buzzed as hell.”

He absolutely deserved the look Killer gave him when he picked him up.

The loft apartment was nice. The doorman judgmental as hell in a way that he wouldn’t tolerate if he wasn’t still reeling from being reamed in the restaurant. It really shouldn’t have been such a turn on but he was rapidly coming to term with the facts of life. His fiancé just did it for him. All the time, it seems.

His fist was heavy as it slammed into the door, his blood buzzing with arousal and expensive wine.

She—He opened the door, hair still pinned back but suit jacket removed. Silk red camisole displaying his shoulders and the swell of his breasts beautifully.

“Kid?! What the hell are you doing—”

“You’ve got balls talking to me like that.” Kid snarled, bullying his way into the room, pinning his fiancé to the door. “Maybe there’s hope for us after all. I needed that. I was a dick to you.” Kid could smell the intoxicating mix of expensive perfume and a natural spice.

“W-Well, I’m glad we can come to an agreement about that.” He stammered, shocked by his behavior. Kid couldn’t blame him.

“Fuck, I should have bought flowers… do you like flowers?” Kid shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Red.”

He looked as confused as Kid felt.

“What?”

“My favorite color is red. The shade doesn’t matter but right now I’m partial to the shade on your lips. I wear makeup usually but decided not to scandalize the staff… think I could wear that shade?” Kid leaned down, pressing his forehead against his fiancé’s. Their eyes were wide.

“Uhm… sure. I can… let you borrow mine. You’d look good in it, I think. It doesn’t smudge when it sets, so you’ll need makeup remover for it.” He helpfully explained. Kid grinned.

“So, what I’m hearing is that I better put some fucking effort in if I want it on my skin?” Kid’s voice dropped low and intimate. “I’ll have to kiss you hard to transfer it to my lips? Let me try it. I want to see how good it is.” Kid murmured, slowly moving and allowing his fiancé to decide.

“If you think that weak ass apology is good enough, you better think again. That’s not nearly good enough for the attitude you’ve had all night.” He smirked, hand resting over Kid’s erection. “Is this the root of the problem? All that huffing and snarling because you’ve got blue balls?”

Kid grabbed his thick thighs and lifted his fiancé against the door, pressing between them with a smirk of his own. Rocking against the door in a slow, dry fuck.

“How can I not get bricked up when you came in looking so fucking good?” Kid grumbled, staring into his eyes. “Fine. I’m sorry I was too busy imaging your makeup running when you introduced yourself to be a gentleman. I’m sorry I drank a whole bottle of wine so I wouldn’t bend you over the table. I’m so fucking sorry all I can think of when I look at you is how fucking beautiful my future husband is.”

Kid kissed him then, lips pressing hard against the soft red as he ground his cock against his fiancé’s body. Groaning when he felt a hot tongue slip into his mouth. He was sorry, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to fold when his fiancé was the one getting dry fucked against his front door. Kid pressed his tongue back and took control of the kiss. Wet and filthy, Kid soaked up the weak, mewling moans and how hot his dick was. Pressed against slick fabric that he wanted to rip open like a gift.

Finally, he jerked away, panting and snarling when he found his fiancé was right. The lipstick didn’t even smear a little the entire time. He’d need to give them a different kind. One that leaves marks everywhere. Makes sex so much better to see afterwards where those sexy lips have been. On his lips. His chest. His cock. Everywhere.

“You’re not sorry. If you were, you wouldn’t be teasing me like this. What kind of gentleman fucks against a door?” Kid smiled.

“You’re so fucking right. I’m sorry, husband.” Kid pulled away from the door, still holding his fiancé against his body. He glanced around and spotted the kitchen table. “A real gentleman fucks his husband on a table.”

Kid slammed him onto the table and yanked off both their pants.

“Fuck!” He cursed as Kid tore open the camisole with his bare hands.

Breasts and body finally fully bared for Kid, he grinned down at his fiancé.

“Finally.” Kid licked down their body, fully tasking his skin and testing the softness of his fiancé’s breasts with his teeth and tongue. Hands firm as they gripped thick, supple thighs as he panted over their cunt. “Some good fucking food.”

Softer than a wet dream, Kid groaned at the sweet fluttering against his tongue. Cute clit begging for his attention as the wine fully settled in his system. Sure, his lipstick didn’t smudge, but maybe the mascara would? Goal affirmed, Kid set to work. Fully indulging in the soaking wet cunt as his fiancé cried out, wriggling against his face.

Hands carded through his hair as Kid wound them up. Tasting deeply as they sobbed, twitching around his tongue and fingers.

“O-Oh! Kid! Fuck! Yes!”

“S-So good… Ahnnn~! Oh! Oh! R-Right there!”

Praise rained down onto Kid’s shoulders, going right to his cock as he drove his tongue in deep. Spreading his fingers out as cream poured onto the table. Kid wanted to fucking ruin his fiancé. Make a mess to bad he’d slip when Kid fucked him properly over the table later.

When he begged for it.

“S-Shit! Kid! O-Ohhhhnnnggghh~! Ah! K-Kid y-yes!”

He trembled around Kid, thighs quivering as he came again.

“P-Please! Fuck me! Fuck me oh~! Fuck me please~!” Kid ripped himself away so fast his head spun. Lungs burning as he panted, eagerly slamming in his cock so fast there was a startled scream.

Kid fucked him hard. So close to cumming already, he throbbed as he saw the dirty tear tracks running down his fiancé’s face.

“This good enough? You like that? Slut.” Kid grinned, watching his tits bounce with every hard thrust. Grip on his ass firm as the puddle on the table made him slip away. “Look at my pretty baby, ruined on my cock. Good think you’re going to wear my ring, I want to break you every night.”

“K-Kid~!”

“That’s right.” Kid leaned over and licked at the sweat dripping down his chest. “That’s the name of your future husband. Am I still a fucking rude dick? Go on. Tell me if I still need to kiss and make it better~” Kid teased, railing into him so hard the table rocked back.

“S-So rude! A-Ahn~! F-Fuck!” He raked his nails down Kid’s back as he cried out. “N-Not even married yet!” Kid clicked his tongue and chuckled.

“You’re so fucking right. We aren’t husbands yet.” Kid agreed. “But you’ll cum for me like you are anyway, won’t you, slut?” He jerked under Kid’s thrusts, squeezing down harder.

“Yes!” He threw his head back and Kid took advantage. Kissing and sucking a bruise into the skin even though he couldn’t see it. His fiancé cried out, practically wailing as he came on Kid’s cock.

“Yeah, that’s right. So fucking tight! Every time I’ve got an attitude, are you going to spread for me? Let me take it out on your wet cunt?” Kid asked, going slower so he could press in deeper. “Might finally start acting right with a pussy this sweet for me, husband.” Kid smothered his panting fiancé’s lips with a groan as he came.

He shivered, pulling out as his fiancé gasped for air. They trembled hard as Kid’s cock slipped out.

They smiled in a daze, looking up at him through their lashes. Kissing him softly, they caressed his face.

“If it makes you sweet, I just might let you take your attitude out on me like this.” Kid smirked, thrusting back in with a wet smack. His fiancé moaned in surprise.

“Whoops.” Kid said dryly, grinning. “I think I still feel like a complete bastard. Better start working on that.”

To no one’s surprise, Kid did not stop being a dick when he felt like it… but he did feel more incentivized to be polite when his husband gave him a look. Matching bands on their fingers gleaming in the light.

#one piece smut #one piece #eustass kid #eustass x reader #longer than expected but I think it turned out good!#Hope so at least lol #Date Night

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ecliptsukki · 3 years

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falling for you ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki / cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff, slight comedy

➣ warnings: cursing

➣ a/n: i’m far too in love with this man. i can’t help myself. also if you have anything you want me to write, send it to my inbox!

- he first met you at "S," seeing you stood by langa and reki

- his silky pink hair flowed behind him in the wind, his bangs lifting to reveal his golden eyes. those golden orbs are locked on you the entire time he skates closer to you

- the lack of bickering that usually arose between cherry and joe had caught joe's attention

- joe notices cherry's gaze on a particular y/h/c. he almost snorts, almost, but, being a teasing lil bitch kidding, he decides to jab at cherry's side

- "hey, do you see that girl over there? she's cute, isn't she?"

- the bubblegum-colored hair male glares holes into his friends head

- "i'm sure she wouldn't be interested in a muscle-brained gorilla like yourself"

- "bOI, DID YOU JUST-"

- skates off into the distance, further closing the gap between the two of you

- girls and guys start cheering for and fawning over cherry, as well as joe. this catches your attention because you're surprised mostly by the fawning of the people. honestly, you wouldn't say that anyone you've seen there is worthy of so much attention, excluding your two best buds: langa and reki.

- you're actually older than reki and langa by 3 years. you met reki on coincidence.

- you had borrowed your friend's skateboard to cruise around the town. you had felt overwhelmed with all that had been going on in your life, and you wanted to find an escape. your friend, wanting to help you with that mission, offered the board, saying "it's really fun and gets your mind off of things whenever you need." obviously, you took up on the offer because it was a nice spring day: the sun out and the bright colors of nature and the city filling your misty eyes.

- you skated by the skate park and saw a particular redhead practicing ollies and other tricks. you were impressed by the skill he had portrayed, yet you were also envious of how light he seemed, how his eyes twinkled with joy. your gaze must've rested too long on the boy because he approached you soon after.

- reki, later on, introduced you to langa, bringing you to where you were today

- you came to "S," though unwillingly, to support langa in his beef against another fellow skater

- honestly, you detested that your younger friends were participating in illegal activities but never brought it up because you saw how happy they looked whenever they spoke about the beefs

- anYWAYS-

- looking into the distance, you see a masked man in a white yukata, hair flowing behind him, and a green haired, shirtless, buff man skating closer

- "who's that?" you ask your friends

- "oh! that's cherry blossom and joe. they are the founding members of "S." cherry has an ai board, and joe has incredible power," reki pips

- you nod, acknowledging the two men as they stepped off of their skateboards

- “well hello there,” the green haired man winks at you

- “hi,” you flush, eyes wandering between his gaze and his bare chest

- “what’s a pretty little lady like yourself doing with these two kids?”

- “uh-”

- reki tries to jump joe but is held back by langa because we know that reki doesn’t stand a chance against big muscle man

- joe gets all up and comfy with you, flexing his muscles and talking about who knows what

- your attention was mostly on the blue-nette friend of yours. you were still very anxious about this entire thing

- “she’s not even paying attention to you anymore, you idiot,” the masked man speaks

- embarrassed that they noticed your rude behavior, you begin to excessively apologize

- “no, please don’t apologize. i should’ve realized you were worried about your friends,” joe says modestly

- “there’s no need to worry about snow. he’s fully capable of staying safe. we’ve seen him skate many times, and he always comes out in one piece. i’m sure you’ll be impressed as well,” cherry says in his monotonous tone

- “snow?” you tilt your head to the side in confusion

- when i tell you cherry MELTED, i mean that he MELTED

- stomach? churning. heart? fluttering. cheeks? flushing. hotel? trivago

- bRO, why are you SO FUCKING ADORABLE

- “snow is langa,” joe explains when he notices cherry’s flustered silence

- “ohhhhhh-”

- “actually, i’ve just realized. we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. call me joe,” he looks expectantly at his friend

- “you may call me cherry,” the man thanked the lords that he wore a mask because if he wasn’t, you’d see the obvious rose tint on his cheeks

- “i’m y/n! i came here with reki and langa.”

- to say cherry’s heart broke in that moment would be an understatement. his heart was more so shattered and pulverized.

- did i just fall for a minor? FU-

- “but i’m older than them, of course.”

- lemme just pick up the shards of my broken heart and re-piece it back together

- you barely talked to cherry that night his fault for acting so cold, but you were intrigued by the man. i mean he skates on a talking skateboard, how can you not?

- cherry leaves “S” that night, regretting all his life decisions because instead of talking to you, he avoided you

- who knows when’s the next time he’d meet you?

- lmao, SiKe

- you walk into sakurayashiki calligraphy, awkwardly waiting to be interviewed

- his pink hair meets your eyes, the long, silky hair framing the man’s pale face. a pair of glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, enhancing his golden eyes. he is clad in a navy blue yukata

- hm, he looks familia-

- you almost gasp aloud, as you realize who he is

- not wanting to jump to conclusions, you ask, “have we met before?”

- kaoru is freaking out, though he hides it well under his professional mask

- what the heck? she’s the one looking for a job here?

- “yes, we have, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about”

- yiKeS, nice first impression on your, hopefully, new boss, y/n

- throughout the entire interview, you impressed him with the slightest of things

- you were beyond professional and exactly what he looked for in employees

- damn it. why is she so perfect?

- you walk out of the building with the brightest smile on your face, ecstatic with the news that you had been hired

- kaoru follows closely behind you, acting gentlemanly as he leads you out

- “thank you so, so much. i promise i will work my hardest to make your business even stronger and better than before”

- “no, the honor’s all mine. i can tell that you’ll become a valuable asset”

- you’re bowing your head and thanking him to a crazy amount that he starts to worry that you’re getting dizzy

- mustering up all the courage he could, he speaks up, “actually, i don’t really like talking about the skating half of my life...”

- you mutter a genuine apology for bringing it up before

- “it’s alright, but i was wondering if you wanted to go to “S” with me next time. i understand if you decline. i won’t fire you for it,” he tries to add a joke to lighten his tense mood

- you giggle at his nervous and awkward behavior, “good to know i won’t get fired if i say no, but sure! i wouldn’t mind going again. it’s a good opportunity to let me watch over reki and langa—”

- “that-that’s great,” he sighs with relief

- “—and i can get to know you better,” you mutter quietly under your breath

- he flushes, hearing what you said perfectly

- “i wouldn’t mind that either”

- you couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about the soft smile on kaoru’s face, whilst kaoru was busy sleeping, lost in his dreams of you and him together

- the both of you couldn’t wait to get to know each other more

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joaquinwhorres · 3 years

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Blank Out (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› Bucky Barnes has a list of names–amends he needs to make. When he gets to yours, he finds the amends process a bit more…difficult than it should be.

WORD COUNT ››››› 1,700-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› Oh hey, look at me jumping on that Falcon and the Winter Soldier trend. This is the Y/N version of my OC fic. Exactly the same but for people who prefer Y/N. Lemme know if you want to join the tag list!

Bucky stood outside of the door, staring at the wreath of brightly colored fabric leaves, a small wooden sign hanging in the center with the words Give Thanks looping across it.

He doubted there was going to be much thankfulness for him on the other side of the door.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

This was supposed to be getting easier. Dr. Raynor told him it would get easier.

But for someone who hated bullshit so much, she really spent far too much time talking out of her ass. Because this wasn't easy.

Easy would be surreptitiously wiring a million dollars into each of their bank accounts from the HYDRA accounts he still had access to.

Easy would be taking out anyone who had been involved in the decision to give him the order.

Easy would be breaking the damn rules.

The rules aren't meant to make your life easy, James. They're meant to disconnect you from the Winter Soldier. That's the whole point of making amends, isn't it?

He'd give anything to get her damn voice out of his head.

Bucky propelled himself up the front porch steps before he could change his mind. Like he had last yesterday.

He rapped on the front door, accidentally knocking the wreath sideways as he went to pull his hand away. Instinctively, he reached out to right it, centering the sign and taking his hands away slowly to avoid a repeat of the situation. Bucky checked over his shoulder, half expecting Sam's stupid little robot to Zoom into view with Sam cackling and making some dumb quip about metal butterfingers. But Redwing wasn't there. The only other person outside was an old man mowing his lawn in a dingy white undershirt and grey sweatshorts. Bucky's lip curled in disgust before turning back to the door--the sound of locks clicking out of place putting him on alert.

"Hello?"

Bucky blinked, his eyes meeting those of the woman before him. Her eyes were striking, pinning him to the spot and pushing all semblance of thought out of his head.

"Can I help you?"

Bucky blinked, nodding at her. Right. He was here for a reason. Not to stand like some teenage boy who'd just seen the girl next door for the first time.

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/L/N."

"You found her."

He blanched. "You're Y/N Y/L/N?"

The look of vague curiosity that had been gracing features markedly shifted into a look of annoyance. "Believe it or not, Y/N’s come in all shapes, sizes, and colors."

Fuck this. He needed to get out of here. There was no way he could have this conversation now.

"Still want to talk to me?" She asked, eyebrows arched and arms folded across her chest.

No.

Sam's laughter echoed in his head, as if he'd been here to witness the exchange. And that's why he stayed. Out of spite.

He nodded. "My name is James "Bucky" Barnes and--"

"Wait a second," she held out a hand and raised an eyebrow on him. He did as she asked, stopping mid-sentence with a sinking feeling in his gut. "You're the Bucky Barnes?"

He nodded, resigned to the fact that this was going to be his worst attempt at amends yet. "Yeah."

"Well," she breathed, dropping her arms. "If I'd known I was meeting an Avenger at my door, I might have put on some pants."

His eyes ran down from her face, noticing for the first time that she wore a dressing robe that barely swept the tops of her knees. Her bare knees.

His mouth opened as if he had even the faintest clue how to respond to this and then his jaw moved up and down for a new second as if the motion of talking would bring words. While it didn't muster an apology or some other decent thing to say, he did manage to utter a single word: "Shit."

She snorted at the reaction before smiling for the first time and shaking her head. "If you want to come in and wait, I'll go get changed."

He shook his head. "I can wait out here."

She was still smiling. Probably because she realized he was far more pathetic up close. "Suit yourself, but there's eggs inside."

"I'm good," he said, forcing himself to give a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. She nodded, leaving the door open behind her as she disappeared inside the house--as if he'd change his mind.

He should leave right now. Turn around and come back a different day when he could at least function like a mostly human being. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head.

The quick, sharp sound of pattering bare feet broke his stream of thought, as another girl came to the door, standing before him with her hands on her hips. "We were having breakfast, you know," the girl announced, her voice dripping with sass. "Now we have to wait until she's done talking to you. And I'm starving."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be….not talking to strangers?"

"Shouldn't you be eating breakfast?" she countered.

"It's ten in the morning; I ate already."

"We were supposed to have breakfast an hour ago. But Ravi--"

"Rocio, leave Bucky Barnes alone," Y/N's voice called from elsewhere.

Before he could fully process how odd it was for him to use his name, the little girl's hands dropped from her hips and she stared up at him, mouth agape and eyes comically wide.

"You're Bucky Barnes?" she asked, her small voice awed.

He nodded with a deep sigh and another forced smile.

"What happened to your hair?"

"Got a haircut," he shrugged.

She furrowed her brow at him, her little eyes peering intently at his face. He wasn't sure the last time someone had looked him in the eyes this long. Nobody except Steve had looked him in the eyes since he made it out. The corner of his mouth twitched up. She nodded at him, having composed herself so her little face was serious once more. "I like this better."

"Thanks." He couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. He didn't even really try.

A thought seemed to hit her, lighting up her whole face with excitement. "Wait right here. Don't move. Promise." He nodded again and she raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a stern look.

"I promise," he said, clearly stating each word.

She nodded at him. "Ok. Good." And then she turned and ran into the house, her feet making far more sound than they should for someone of her size.

Y/N reappeared shortly thereafter with a faint smile on her lips, dressed in a copper colored sweater and jeans. "Sorry. You're her favorite."

"She's cute."

What an idiotic thing to say.

"Wish I could take credit," Y/N said, shaking her head. "She's my sister's. I'm just the babysitter on duty."

There were some more sounds of scampering and Rocio was back at the door wearing a long black satin glove, reaching about halfway up her bicep. There were lines streaked across it in gold marker to make it look like it was made of metal plates.

"I made an arm like yours!" she announced, almost whacking Y/N in the stomach as she extended her arm out for him to see.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He'd seen Halloween costumes for sale and shirts with one of the sleeves modeled after his arm, and pictures of guys with an arm wrapped in tinfoil. All of them had been with his old arm--his silver one with the red star. The arm that belonged to Him. An arm made to invoke fear.

This was the arm of a protector.

She deserved more of a reaction than a small, breathy, "Wow."

"Will you sign it?" Her eyes got even bigger if possible, and Y/N started to shake her head, bending over to talk to the little girl, but Bucky stopped her.

"You got a marker?"

"I'll go find one!" Rocio disappeared again, leaving him and Y/N alone on the doorstep. She was closer this time, and he could hear her talking to herself and rustling through different drawers.

Y/N turned her attention from her niece back onto Bucky. "So, why is Bucky Barnes on my doorstep?"

"I uh--when does your sister get home?" he asked, eyes focused in the direction of Rocio's sounds. He swallowed, tearing his eyes away and back up to hers. "I should probably tell both of you...together."

The playful amusement that had been on her face disappeared as she stared at him, as if trying to see inside his head. Like she would want to see what was inside of his head.

"She'll be here around three."

He nodded, saved from a response by Rocio's re-appearance, waving a silver sharpie in the air. She offered it to him, and he plucked it out of her hand, taking hold of her toothpick of an arm in one hand and signing his name on the inside of her bicep. Where she could hide the signature if she wanted to.

Bucky handed the marker back to her as Rocio held her arm out, trying to catch sight of his name.

"Rocio," Y/N prodded, gently.

"Thank you!" she chirped, before turning and literally skipping back inside. "Ravi--look!"

He liked her.

"That was really kind of you," Y/N said, warmly. "I think you just made her year."

He shrugged.

"Although, I have a feeling that this is all she's going to talk about for the next week," Y/N sighed, shaking her head. "Anyway, Lilly will be back around three if you want to come back then and share whatever secret serious news is it that you need to tell us together." Her voice was teasing, and Bucky's mouth lifted into a smirk.

"I'll be back then."

"Great," she smiled politely. "See you then."

He nodded, wishing her goodbye before turning down the stairs.

So much for getting easier.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #tfatws #fatws #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #falcon and winter soldier #bucky barnes reader insert #post-end game #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #marvel fic #avengers fic

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

Text

steadfast [miya osamu x reader]

pairing: miya osamu x fem reader + miya atsumu x reader x suna rintarou

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, group sex (threesome), cuckolding, dirty talk, swearing, praise, daddy kink, deep throating, squirting, brief mentions of jealousy, and just a lil bit of that competitive spirit ya know?

word count: 4.3k

overview: after years of witnessing suna and atsumu shamelessly flirting with his girlfriend, he decides to give them one chance to change her mind knowing damn well she won’t.

By nature, Osamu is observant. Few things escape his attention, whether it’s trace amounts of ice cream disappearing from his tub in the freezer or the longing look you always give him moments before you press your lips against his in an affectionate kiss. Though he wants to pay full attention to the intense game of Super Smash Bros.a few of his former teammates are playing, he can’t help but let his eyes wander to your form as you shuffle into the kitchen to grab another beer. It’s not for you, but for his twin brother who places a lingering touch against the small of your back upon accepting it.

To the untrained eye, the action would appear as a gesture of appreciation and nothing more. But Osamu understood his brother well enough to know that he’d always had a habit--or intention, rather--of being handsy with you. His dark, stone-colored gaze quickly flicks back to the game on the television, however, when you saunter over to him to lean down and place a gentle kiss against his temple.

“Need anything, babe?” you ask, (e/c) eyes tracing over the handsome features of your boyfriend’s face.

He shakes his head and assures you, “Just ‘cause this is our place, don’t mean ya hafta play hostess, y’know.”

“I know,” is your cheerfully spoken response before you turn your attention to the chaos unfolding on-screen. “Damn, who knew Kita-san was good at video games?”

Aran, who overhears your comment, laments, “Not me. This guy acts like it’s his first time holdin’ a controller ‘nd then proceeds to give us an ass-beatin’!” That deceptively sweet smile you’d seen many times before soon spreads across Kita’s lips as he casts it in your direction. Moments later, you notice his chosen character catapult Aran’s off the side of the screen, making the man sigh and hand his controller over to a somewhat unsettled-looking Ren.

The exchange makes you laugh, and your amusement quickly spreads to Osamu, who smiles as he pecks your cheek. “Why don’tcha come sit down, honey?” he suggests, patting his knee and slowly pulling you closer by giving your hand a gentle tug.

“Later. I’m gonna go talk to Rin real quick.”

Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, you back away and dart past the television to where Suna’s standing on the balcony outside. Osamu doesn’t miss the lazy grin that tugs at the corners of his friend’s mouth when you greet him and seat yourself on the chair beside him. Though he’s noticed how much of your attention Suna must’ve been aiming to steal away the entire evening, he doesn’t comment or intervene. Instead, he sends a sideways glance at Atsumu, who plops down on the couch beside him, pops another sliver of pickled plum into his mouth that Kita brought with him, and returns his attention to the game onscreen.

It’s not until later that he decides to speak on the issue, when everyone’s left the informal team reunion but Atsumu and Suna. As you’re scanning the apartment for any trash that may have been forgotten—though there’s not much to find since Kita and Aran scolded anyone who so much as left their drink unattended—you find yourself tripping over the rug sprawled across the wooden floor. Atsumu, who’s seated on the couch nearby, avoiding any tasks associated with cleaning up while tapping through his own Instagram story, quickly extends his arms towards you to steady you as you stumble towards him.

Feeling his hands on your hips and hearing him say, “Careful, there, girly,” brings a rush of heat to your neck and face.

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu!” you chirp quickly, pushing yourself away from the couch with haste.

“Anytime, hon,” is his nonchalant response. Normally, you wouldn’t think much of it because he’d developed a habit of giving you affectionate names over the years you’d known him, but, in this situation, his reply has you glancing over your shoulder at Osamu. Though he remains silent and focused on the task at hand, that quiet but dominating presence of his is intense. You know his brother’s actions are hardly going unnoticed, so you hustle into the kitchen to start cleaning the dishes Kita had neatly piled in your sink—which you’d had to practically beg him not to clean for you by insisting that he was your guest.

Osamu’s dark gaze narrows at his brother in a silent warning once you’re occupied again. Atsumu, being competitive and provocative as ever, simply raises an eyebrow at him as a challenge. However, both their attention soon snaps to you when they hear you and Suna snickering about something that must’ve been just hilarious while he helps take care of the dishes. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Osamu’s entirely used to, seeing as he’s always been secure in his relationship with you, but knowing the types of things his friend and his brother have said about you in confidence before the two of you started dating makes a flicker of it burn within him.

Finally, he speaks, not even attempting to hide the curtness to his tone when he questions, “Why don’t the two of ya just fuck ‘er already?”

The silence that befalls the house following his outburst is deafening, and you freeze in your act of handing Suna another plate to stick in the dishwasher. The three of you collectively turn your gazes to him, though theirs clearly portray an intrigue to learn more about what he means.

“What’re ya sayin’ that for, ‘Samu?” Atsumu asks rather coyly, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees.

However, your boyfriend isn’t having any of his twin’s attitude tonight, since he retorts, “Don’t fuckin’ act like ya don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. I know you’ve been wantin’ her for years now. I see the way you both fawn over her whenever I bring ‘er around.”

“Baby…” you coo softly and dry your hands so you can approach him.

The daggers he sends sticking into you with a sharp glance in your direction stops you in your tracks, though, as do his words. “What? It’s not like yer doin’ anythin’ to stop it.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes sinking to the floor as shame wells up inside of you at the truth his statement holds. You had never intentionally flirted with either of them, but you hadn’t done anything to put an end to their advances. Even though Atsumu and Suna were close friends of yours—and had been since high school, when you’d first met them along with Osamu—you knew they’d both harbored feelings for you at some point over the years. Part of you didn’t stop them because you hadn’t wanted to think the worst, which was that they still had any remnants of desire for you when you were clearly in a committed relationship with Osamu.

However, as you look around and find yourself the subject of not one but three hungry sets of eyes, you realize that they’ve still been hunting you regardless of the fact. “’Samu, I—”

“Do ya wanna let ‘em fuck you?” he interrupts. The fire you can sense burning behind his ash-colored eyes robs you of a response, so he adds, in a softer tone, “’S okay if ya do.”

Atsumu chuckles, “Might not wanna give ‘er the chance since she might rethink her decision about who she chose.”

Without thinking, you shake your head diligently and argue, “I would never leave him.”

“So, is that a yes, then?”

As you take a moment to ponder his inquiry, you notice Osamu moving closer to you before he takes your face in his hands. Tenderly, he kisses your cheek and leans towards your ear so he can murmur, “Why don’tcha let ‘em live out their li’l pipe dream for one night, (f/n)? You’ve got nothin’ ta lose, since I’m the one who suggested it in the first place.” A slow, shuddering breath escapes your lips when he adds, “In fact, I want you to do it. Show ‘em a good time; hell, enjoy yourself too.” He lets his finger run over the gentle curves of your neck, sending tingles down your spine. “I hope they make you feel good—or at least try to, since I know there’s no way they’ll be able ta make you squirt like I can, pretty baby.”

His words quickly fill your core with heat, and you’re consenting with an enthusiastic nod without so much as another thought. A small smile ghosts across his lips for a moment before he gives you a gentle nudge in the direction of the hallway leading to your bedroom, silently telling you to lead the way. Even though your body’s abuzz with excitement at what you’ve willingly gotten yourself into, you can’t help but feel somewhat sheepish at being the subject of three intense gazes. Having them follow you down the narrow hallway makes it somewhat hard for you to breathe, but it’s not long before they’re finding more physical ways of taking your breath away.

Upon entering your bedroom, Atsumu’s the first to paw at your shirt, taking the soft fabric in his grip so he can pull it over your head. Your bra is unclasped moments later and tossed aside haphazardly before you’re pushed onto the bed. The suddenness of your body hitting the mattress makes you squeal, eliciting a low chuckle from Atsumu as he leans over you and captures your lips in a surprisingly tender kiss. While your eyes are closed, you can feel one set of fingers trailing lightly along your sternum while another pair of hands tugs at your pants before removing them, along with your embarrassingly wet panties.

“Mm,” Suna hums gently, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, “Soaked already?”

“Lemme feel.” The fingertips grazing the expanse of skin between your breasts soon travel down closer to your core, plunging inside and emerging coated in your essence. A soft whine escapes your mouth at the fleeting sensation of being somewhat filled, and you watch with half-lidded, (e/c) eyes as Atsumu slides his fingers into his mouth. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he comments before placing another passionate kiss against your lips so he can swipe his tongue along yours to give you a taste. “What did ‘Samu say that gotcha all worked up, honey?”

From where he’s sitting on a chair across from the bed, Osamu grunts, “None of yer damn business. And don’t call ‘er honey.”

Suna understands why Atsumu’s attempts at using this pet name for you are futile when he sees the way you clench around nothing at hearing it leave Osamu’s mouth. “’Samu,” you whimper softly and look in his direction. In spite of the way Suna and Atsumu’s hands feel against your skin, you’re still pining for the familiarity of your boyfriend’s touch. Eager to bring you back to the matter at hand, Atsumu turns your face back towards him and occupies your lips once more.

Meanwhile, Suna sets himself to running his fingers through your glistening folds and pleasuring your sensitive spot, making you moan into Atsumu’s mouth. When his digits venture inside of you, your hips instinctively buck against them, desperate for the thumb you know he’s intentionally keeping away from your clit. “Keep making those pretty sounds, baby,” Suna coaxes, using his free hand to palm his erection through his pants. Between him thrusting his long fingers into your core and Atsumu pinching your nipples with his, it’s not long before you feel the knot in your stomach threatening to come undone.

What pushes you closer to the edge is the smooth, wetness of Suna’s tongue dragging over your slit. “Rin!” you squeal, grinding your hips against his face to get as much contact with his mouth as you can. He squeezes your thighs gently, holding them in place over his shoulders where he kneels on the floor at the side of the bed. At hearing his name leave your mouth between kisses from Atsumu, he rewards your behavior by flattening his tongue against your clit and licking in broad stripes. Suddenly, a wave of ecstasy crashes over you, reducing you to a moaning mess as you cling onto Atsumu’s arms and squeeze Suna’s head between your thighs.

Your wanton cries have all three men in the room mesmerized. However, their awe quickly transforms into something more animalistic, and, in your ecstasy-induced haze, your body is nothing more than putty in their hands as they maneuver you into a different location and position on the bed. You’re vaguely aware of your own hands reaching for Atsumu’s shirt to remove it before unzipping his pants so his erection can spring free.

As you move closer to him to take his cock in your mouth, Atsumu grabs a fistful of your (h/l), (h/c) hair to keep you from doing so. “Oh, sweetheart, I love how eager you are to suck me off, but I’m dyin’ ta see whose cock you like better: mine or ‘Samu’s.” Osamu growls with irritation at this comment but feels his dick throb painfully at knowing what he’s about to witness. With that said, he relinquishes his grip on your strands of hair so that he can readjust your position, bringing you face to face with the tent in Suna’s pants.

This time, it’s him who’s threading his fingers amongst your locks, but with a much gentler and more affectionate grip than Atsumu’s, and his sandy-colored irises fasten on you as you work on unzipping his fly to give him some relief. If anything, knowing he’d just brought you to an orgasm with his mouth spurs you on to use yours so you can do the same for him. The way you eye his erection hungrily once you’ve freed it from the confines of his pants has him tugging your hair backwards to tilt your chin up towards him. He’s always wondered what it’s like to kiss those delicate lips of yours, and they look far too delectable—slightly swollen from Atsumu’s bruising kisses and glistening with the saliva he can see dripping off your tongue—for him to show any restraint now that he’s been given a free pass to do so.

“Are you gonna be good and take all of it?” he wonders, his mouth brushing against yours with each word. Your diligent nod earns you a deep kiss, and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his tongue trailing along yours, carrying the taste of you. “Gonna drool all over my dick for me with that pretty, little mouth of yours?”

You’re barely able to let out a breathless, “Yes,” before his lips are over yours once more. But, just as quickly as his onslaught of kisses started, he’s pulling away and moving your head down south. Saliva collects in your mouth at the sheer size of him, and you cast him a demure glance up at him through your eyelashes as you lick a long trail from the base to the tip, causing a low groan to rumble in his throat.

At feeling the head of Atsumu’s cock teasing your sensitive clit, a whimper rolls off your tongue. “I’m gonna fuck this sweet, little pussy of yours so good, (f/n),” your boyfriend’s twin murmurs, his hands moving your hips so he can push the tip inside of you, “so you’d better take it like a good girl.”

“Don’t hurt ‘er, dumbass,” Osamu barks, the hand he has shoved down his sweatpants coming to a halt at the thought of your comfort being compromised by his brother’s greed and desire to show off. “She’s sensitive.”

“Oh?” Atsumu challenges as he inches more of his cock inside of you, making you remove your mouth from Suna’s dick to mewl loudly and drop your head towards the comforter. “It’s ‘cause yer not used to bein’ filled up are ya, sweetheart?” Another lascivious cry from you is stifled by the thick duvet when he snaps his hips against yours, sending himself deeper into your clenched core. “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of ya in all the ways ‘Samu can’t.”

Osamu’s face burns ever so slightly with humiliation and anger, but he finds he can’t tear his gaze away from the scene before him. He watches in silence as Atsumu’s fingers dig into the supple skin on your rear and snake around your hips, pulling you closer to him as he sheathes more of his cock in your greedy cunt. Then, his eyes are darting to where your pretty lips are wrapped around Suna’s dick, eyes gazing upwards at him in an affectionate manner that he thought was only reserved for himself.

He feels as if he should be enraged by the whole situation—by the way he’s being forced to sit and watch while his brother and his friend fuck your pussy and your mouth, respectively—but he isn’t. In spite of being excluded and having derogatory remarks thrown his way by Atsumu like daggers, he loves it. He loves every moan of their names that leaves your mouth because of how good they’re making you feel, as well as the hungry looks in their eyes at how good you’re making them feel. Because no matter what his twin says about how he’s “gonna make ya feel better than ‘Samu ever will,” he knows he’s wrong. In a scenario where Osamu should be the one feeling inferior, his ability not to lose sight of what he knows is the truth is what keeps the warmth burning in his stomach.

No matter how much you drool all over Suna’s cock while he thrusts deeply into your mouth, batting your eyelashes at him each time he sends a compliment your way, he knows whose pants you’re pulling down after he’s had a long day at work. Even as Atsumu’s hips snapping against yours reap a myriad of mewls or moans from your mouth that bring a self-satisfied smirk to his face, he’s confident that you’ll always be louder for him. Nobody knows how to treat you quite like Osamu does, and nobody knows how to fuck you like he does either.

So, as he slowly strokes himself off to the sight before him, he’s able to ignore the sting of every off-handed comment thrown his way and the sound of you begging Atsumu for more in the moments when Suna’s dick isn’t down your throat. He might as well let them have all the fun they want with you, seeing as it’ll be their last time doing so. He only intended to give them a taste of how good you are as a way of getting back at them for all of their shameless advances towards you in the first place. What’s better revenge than giving them something amazing that they can only remember, but never recreate? Nothing, he thinks.

“Lemme cum inside ya, pretty girl,” Atsumu coos, though his voice is raspy from his heavy breathing as he slams into you. Removing your mouth from Suna’s dick with a loud pop, you shake your head, making them both look at you with raised eyebrows. “Why not?” he asks.

Osamu nearly finishes on the spot when you whine, “Only ‘Samu can.”

Atsumu shoots his brother a withering look that he beats down with a smirk but obeys your wishes anyway. “Whatever ya want, princess,” he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss against your spine before continuing to thrust into you at a breakneck pace that has you crying out with ecstasy in no time.

Your breathy moans sending vibrations along Suna’s dick have him finishing inside of your mouth, and you swallow his seed as you sink into the bed once more. Atsumu’s hands keep your hips flush against his as he plunges into your spasming core until he can hardly take the sensations your body’s offering him anymore. Once it gets too much for him to handle, he obediently pulls out of you and cums on your back, spreading warmth along your skin and eliciting another whimper from you.

As you come down from your highs, you feel Suna’s long fingers stroke the side of your face affectionately, as if trying to communicate the praises he can’t find the words for. Meanwhile, Atsumu takes one last look at your back coated in his release before grabbing a tissue and cleaning you up. “So,” he mentions, interrupting himself to place a gentle kiss against the nape of your neck, “whaddya think? Did we change your mind?”

There’s not even a moment of hesitation before you shake your head and reiterate, “I’ll never leave him.” The soreness you feel settling into your body does nothing to quell the warmth in your belly, especially with the way Osamu’s gazing at you hungrily from his seat at the other end of the room. It’s almost as if your body moves by itself as you get up from the bed and shuffle over to him so you can seat yourself in his lap. “I want you, baby,” you breathe as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

A shit-eating grin appears on his lips as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan softly at the bulge in his pants pressing against your sensitive entrance as he mentions, loudly enough for the other men in the room to hear, “How cute. Even after getting’ fucked by them two, ya still only wanna be stuffed full of my cum, huh?”

“Please.” Your plea escapes you in a soft whine when he bestows a fleeting kiss against your lips. He hums into the tender skin on your neck, eyeing Suna and Atsumu over your shoulder while he does so as if to clearly convey to them who’s won this challenge. However, his silent gloating is soon put to an end when you wriggle your hips against his, move your face closer to his ear and beg, “Please, daddy.”

In an instant, he’s barking at Suna and Atsumu to get off the bed so he can push you down onto it. “So good for me, honey.” Osamu’s loving words have you clenching around nothing as he shoves off his sweatpants and positions himself at your entrance. “Shoulda never doubted ya. I know how much you love me, don’tcha, baby girl?” he muses, flooding you with heat once more.

“Mm!” you chirp enthusiastically, “I love you so much, ‘Samu.”

His smooth voice becomes ever so slightly strained as he pulls your hips towards him, slides his cock into your warm, velvety core, and replies, “I love you too, (f/n).” Having him inside you once more brings you a pleasant sensation of comfort that you felt as if you’d been missing earlier, and you reach for one of his hands. Sensing your desire to be more connected with him, he wraps his fingers around yours and presses the back of your hand against the mattress beside your head.

You moan softly at being filled once more when he bottoms out inside of you. Glancing over at where Suna and Atsumu are sitting nearby, he comments, “Ya feel so good, honey,” and increases the volume of his voice before adding, “it’s like yer sweet, li’l pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Just for you, daddy,” you agree with a small smile, eliciting a low groan from him and spurring him to start thrusting into you with long, deep strokes. From where he’s standing at the edge of the bed, he’s able to lift your hips upwards to drive himself even deeper into you than he’s sure Atsumu could reach. Any overstimulation you felt initially has since been replaced by pleasure once more as he showers you with kisses accompanied by compliments that you confirm enthusiastically, earning you more of what you want.

“Why don’tcha tell ‘em whose cock ya love the most, baby girl?”

You cry out his name once.

“Who’s making ya feel so good right now?”

Twice.

“Who’s gonna make ya cum harder ‘nd faster?”

Thrice.

He leans down towards you to press those slow, passionate kisses against your lips that you’d missed so much, spreading your legs further and pounding into you with more speed. It’s clear he knows the map of your body that he’s made through experience like the back of his hand, since he’s able to hit that sweet spot within you time after time with more accuracy and precision than anyone else could. “Right there!” you cry, fingers dragging along the muscles rippling beneath the skin on his arms as your toes curl.

A few more thrusts send you over the edge again, and the strength of your orgasm is felt by every man in the room. Atsumu and Suna realize your cries are much louder than they were before, and Osamu smiles when he feels you squirt as your walls clench tightly around him. He doesn’t mind that you’re getting his clothes and the comforter covered in your essence—he only cares that he’s delivered the promise he’d made for you earlier. It’s not long before he reaches his high and fills you up with stuttering snaps of his hips and labored breaths. You moan breathlessly at the sensation of warmth inside your core, and let your head come to rest against the bed while he finishes inside of you.

As much as you want nothing more than to crawl under the sheets with him and rest, you’re reminded of your guests when Osamu casts his dark gaze in their direction. “Ya got whatcha wanted. Go home,” he announces, eyes narrowing at his twin brother who, along with Suna, are clearly still in awe at what they’ve witnessed.

Turning back to you and planting a tender kiss against your collarbone while they rise to their feet and head for the door, Osamu adds deviously, “So much for rethinkin’ her decision, huh? Now ya know why she won’t.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin

osamu: @pretty-setters, @misora-msby, @why-aminot-dead, @atsunakaashi, @heyhinata, @why-aminot-dead

#miya osamu x reader #ahkaahshi gets wild #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #osamu x reader #osamu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #tw cuckolding #tw daddy kink #miya atsumu x reader #suna rintarou x reader #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #fran writes hq!!#atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #suna x reader #suna smut

2K notes · View notes

aerois · 4 years

Text

Remarried Empress: Sovieshu Contextualized and Navier the Unreliable Narrator (SPOILERS!)

So recently I started reading Remarried Empress on WEBTOON. Honestly the whole premise wasn’t my cup of tea and I was solely reading it because it was part of an event where I could get free coins (lol). But then... I got hooked. I got invested. Started drinking in chapters whenever and wherever I could, and even now I still crave more. I wanted Navier to have some semblance of a happy ending (and, let’s be honest, I wanted to drag that precious little bitch Trashta by her fucking hair across the yard). At first it was mostly that. Raging at Trashta and her Simperor, pondering at Heinley’s true intentions, drooling over Kaufman.

And then, I noticed something odd. I noticed-- the strangest thing-- Sovieshu seemed to be... not as enamored with his mistress as meets the eye. And there was even some hinting that his feelings for Navier weren’t what we assumed.

I have to preface this: I don’t condone Sovieshu’s crappy actions. He’s an idiot, and acts very poorly as a husband. And there’s no excuse for cheating. Absolutely not! So I don’t want this post to come across like In Defense of Sovieshu, because it’s not. But I do think that our view, the reader’s view, of Sovieshu, is warped. And this is mainly because we see the story through Navier’s eyes of course, but we forget that every individual person is fallible. Every person, at some point, harbors false assumptions that color their concepts of truth and reality. Put shortly, Navier is human, and therefore is not a reliable narrator at some points. Especially concerning her husband. We see Sovieshu entirely through the eyes of his wronged wife in the webcomic. Pin that: in the webcomic. Did you know the webcomic is actually based on a mobile game? Yes, it is! And I downloaded it! And I’m playing it! And... I’m actually... hating Sovieshu less??????????

Ok, ok, put the pitchforks down! Hear me out! I’m not saying any of the stuff he did was okay! But Navier’s narration of the story paints him as this cold, detached man who grew to hate his wife so much that he flew into the arms of some hussy for warmth and then just cast his wife aside and deliberately acted like a jerk just because he wanted her to suffer. And there’s a grain of truth to that. There are points where Sovieshu feels bitter and does or says something waspish. But it’s not as black and white as you might assume. I played the mobile game, and decided to take Sovieshu’s route out of spite. I opened this app, saw it was an otome with this garbage-fire, cheating sack of shit for a romance option and thought “Hah! The nerve. Probably some semi-abusive dirtbag route aimed to appeal to girls who like men who treat them badly. You know, that mutually abusive relationship appeal that some girls like because drama.” And I needed to rack up in-game currency anyway (it’s like usual mobile games, where when you wanna make cool choices you gotta cough up cash unless you “diamond-mine” on crappy stories to save up the meager bits of free currency the app gives you for playing) so I figured I’d blast through the Sovieshu route and skip onto my darling Kaufman in playthrough 2.

And then the smoke genuinely compelling character development got me. So I could run y’all through Navier’s version of the events, but you already know that. For Sovieshu though? Here’s the kicker: this idiot has had a raging passion for his wife slowly building up for years throughout their entire lives, and only realizes it about halfway through the events of the story. This idiot, this buffon, this absolute brain-dead dolt... didn’t even realize he was pining over his own wife until he was about to explode from the desperation from it all. God, I wish I was joking. Lemme break it down for you:

Sovieshu’s POV: He and Navier are introduced as kids and are told they’ll be married someday. Life partners. They are raised in tandem to respect and care for one another. Kinda smacks of grooming (go mom and dad!) but whatever, that’s the background. These kids are mentally regarding each other as spouses their entire conscious lives. And Sovieshu, as he grows, quickly comes to realize his intended is a selfless girl who holds everything inside. The first spark of his affection for her is wrapped in this: that Sovieshu longs for Navier to take off her “perfect princess” mask and let herself be vulnerable with him. He admires her intellingence, her grace, and her devotion to her country. He looks at her and sees someone that inspires him. He craves the opportunity to comfort and protect her. He waits, and these opportunities come in small instances. But they get older, their burdens get heavier, and like most young women, Navier gets better at pretending nothing is wrong with her and putting everyone else first. Sovieshu feels more distant from her. But that desire to break through her wall still stands.

They marry, but Navier, in her infinite wisdom, makes the assumption that this marriage is entirely political (despite...the fact... that they were raised together??? they were literally best friends their entire lives??? are y’all seeing how this could be confusing for him???) and that there are absolutely no feelings involved on Sovieshu’s side. Expect there’s that little problem. That little problem. Of Navier’s absolute inability to be vulnerable. And so she starts this marriage all Elsa-Conceal-Don’t-Feel convinced that her husband (whom she is secretly in love with, shocker) holds no warmth for her because she’s never received any from him.

Now I’ll acknowledge that this is a two way street, where Sovieshu fails as well. Should Navier have made a mature decision and asked for love and support when she needed it? Yes. Should Sovieshu have offered anyway, despite not knowing that she wanted it at all? Yes. They’re both in the wrong here. They’re both too passive, too afraid.

So the first few years of their marriage pass by like this. And Navier kinda melts into more of a depressed state over it, while Sovieshu becomes frustrated. But he doesn’t know why. He hasn’t quite put his finger on the fact that HE’S IN LOVE WITH HIS WIFE, GEE WHAT A SURPRISE BUDDY. And then... the little ingenue comes in. Trashta, with her crocodile tears, oversharing of emotions, co-dependent as all get-out. You see where I’m headed, right? It’s not just that she’s the opposite of Navier that gets Sovieshu hooked. It’s that she gives him that opportunity to unburden all this pent up romantic frustration. He can comfort, and protect, and wipe away the tears of a woman who loves him... And for a while, it’s intoxicating. That itch is finally being scratched.

Or so it seems. Because sooner or later, Sovieshu realizes that this woman is not his wife. And she’s a bit clingy, and clueless, and she’s... well, she’s not his wife. She’s not his wife.

“Oh, dear God...” the idiot finally realizes. “I don’t want this hussy. I want my wife!”

Ding ding ding! You did it! And it only took you--what? 20 years? After all this time, Sovieshu (and the audience playing his route) realizes. He’s not cheating because he’s bored, or because he hates his wife, or because he’s Inherently An Asshole And That’s What Assholes Do. He’s cheating because he’s using this woman as a stand-in for his wife. He’s been looking straight through this woman and seeking his wife the entire time. He’s cheating because he’s stupid and repressed and misguided and human. And again, that doesn’t excuse it. He still cheated, and that’s something he needs to spend a life-time making up for. It’s a mistake, and a big one. But it’s not fueled by a malicious hatred or a desire to hurt her. It’s fueled by confusion and fear. And, strangely enough, a desire to perform love for his wife.

So anyway, this stupid dweeb finally wakes up and realizes that no matter how much he plays around with the Town Skank, it doesn’t slate that thirst for the woman he’s spent his life growing to love. And that he actually, truly loves her to begin with. Now at this point, Navier was away travelling, doing queenly stuff. And he gets a message from a servant-- his wife is home. This boy books it. This man throws down what he’s doing, sprints across the imperial palace, to stumble at the feet of his wife; red-faced and breathless, absolutely undone. This man is screaming for his wife on the inside and now nothing he can do will quiet it. And his wife, ever the perfect pinnacle of a monarch, just raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him and wonders what’s got him in such a tizzy.

This is where the difference between the narratives hits especially hard. Navier has absolutely no clue that her husband is a hair-thin thread of self-control away from all of this just completely spilling out of him. She looks at him and sees a tormentor; someone who’s treating her like a used doll. And he sees this Goddess that’s been hiding in plain sigh the whole time. He sees his sins and repents before this, his wife, his almighty Goddess. But he doesn’t know what to do. She’s still been hurt by him, Trashta is still in their lives, and damn it all, he’s still frustrated. He still feels bitter and abandoned because even after everything, even after the years of marriage, his wife just seems so unaffected by him. This is where Navier’s “perfect queen” image that she tries so hard to curate really bites her in the ass.

These two dumbasses are hopelessly in love with each other but they’re deadlocked in an endless cycle of letting their prides get in the way. Navier doesn’t want to be vulnerable. Sovieshu doesn’t want to compromise, doesn’t know how to not lash out in anger when he’s really feeling sad. Unlike Navier, he can express emotions-- but not in a heathy way. So he says something mean, does something kinda shitty. And Navier thinks it’s because he delights in her suffering. So Sovieshu’s over here in his head like a cranky little child that’s mad at mommy because she’s on the phone, and Navier is over there in her head wondering why on earth her husband can’t notice a love that she’s never actually expressed to him. And it’s just terrible. But kind of hilarious. Mostly sad and terrible. But defintely hilarious.

To further illustrate this: even a lot of Sovieshu’s actions, for that matter, get warped by Navier’s unreliable narration. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! In the chapter where Trashta is stabbed, Sovieshu immediately screams for guards to surround Navier. So I’ll sum up their thought processes here.

Navier: Oh my God, I can’t believe this asshole. Calling the guards? He really fuckin thinks I did this?! Jerk! Asshole! He really thinks I’d arrange for a pregnant woman to be stabbed!! He’s probably deliberately framing me too, so he can get me out of the way and live happily ever after with her!

Sovieshu: OH MY GOD, MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE COULD GET STABBED NEXT SOMEONE HELP well actually maybe she had something to do with it? nah. prolly not. but even if she did idgaf I LOVE MY WIFE, I’LL COVER FOR YOU BABY I’LL FORGIVE WHATEVER. GUARDS, FIND WHO DID THE STABBING SO THEY DON’T STAB MY PERFECT WIFE NEXT

Like I wish I was joking, but that’s how it read. Anyway, I’m not done with the comic or the game yet. But Sovieshu’s motivations aren’t all as they seem. And while he’s not a perfect husband, he has the capacity to mature, let down his pride, and make steps toward atoning to his wife. I honestly and genuinely believe this marriage could be salvageable if they could come clean with each other. A lot of people want to root for Kaufman or Heinley, and I get it. Those two would probably treat her well. But the fact stands that these two are married, and surprisingly, they both actually still hold a spark of love for one another. If Sovieshu could genuinely repent, and demonstrate this to Navier, they would attain the happy marriage with each other that they both strive for. Anyway, I find myself surprisingly hooked on the story now that I see Sovieshu’s POV. He’s not a hero in this story by any means, but I’m somehow, against my better judgement, rooting for him. I’m rooting for him to make the right choices and repair his marriage.

It’s a bold strategy, folks. Let’s see how it pays off.

#remarried empress

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triplexdoublex · 4 years

Text

My Ex’s Best Friend

Part 2/Epilogue here

Pairing: Mod Sun x Reader

Warnigs/Tags: nothing much just fluffy smut

Fun fact: Mod Sun and I really do share a birthday, down to the exact year! Also this was inspired by his song Tell Me All Your Secrets and I was picturing long curly haired Mod like in the video when I wrote this.

You and Mod Sun had been friends from practically your very first breath, long before he became famous, back when he was just Derek Smith. Your mothers shared a maternity room in the hospital the night you were both born. They became quite close and stayed in touch. Not only did you share a birthday, you shared everything with each other over the years as you grew up; from first teeth, first words, first steps to first heartbreaks, first time getting high, and also both your parents' divorce. You shared everything; there was nothing you didn't know about each other. You told each other your deepest darkest secrets, your fears, your dreams, and everything in between. Even as adults you’ve been by each other's side. He always made you laugh even through your spouts of depression and anxiety, and you were there for him during his rise to fame and when he struggled with his sobriety and also through his messy breakup with Bella. Despite all that, the two of you never saw each other as anything more than friends. Perhaps it was because your connection was so deeply rooted in friendship since birth, that the thought of being together romantically had never crossed either of your minds. In fact, he would often set you up with his friends, which is how you started dating Colson; Mod’s best friend. It wasn’t until the night Mod was there for you when you and Colson broke up that you realized how perfect you were for each other.

**********

“Hey, you weren’t sleeping were you?” You said when Mod picked up your call at 3:00 am.

“Nah, girl you know I’m a night owl. Whoooo whoooo,” he laughed. “What’s good?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Nothing, actually. That’s kinda why I’m calling. I was wondering if I could stay at your place for a bit, me and Colson broke up.”

“Awww nooo! Yeah of course you can stay here. Lemme go get something set up for you, and you can tell me all about it when you get here, okay?” He said sweetly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you answered. “See you in a few.”

***********

“Hey, come in, come in,” Mod welcomed you at the door, shirtless in a pair of tie-dye joggers. “I set up the pull-out bed out here for you but it’s actually not very comfortable and I want you to get a good night's sleep, so you take my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”

“No, I’ll take the pull-out, it's fine,” you responded. “I doubt I’ll sleep anyways, too much on my mind.”

“I insist,” he said as he grabbed your bags, carrying them into his room. “I’m gonna go make you some tea, and then you can tell me what happened.”

While he brewed your tea, you changed into an oversized nightshirt you had packed and climbed into bed, fluffing the pillows so you could sit upright.

“Here ya go,” he carefully carried the cup of tea over to you. “Careful it’s still hot.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, wrapping your hands around the warm cup.

“Okay girl, so tell me what is going on,” he said as he plopped himself at the end of the bed lying on his stomach. “Am I gonna have to beat Kells ass?” He joked knowing he could never win in a fight against him.

“No,” you started sadly. “It was mutual. We’re just too different for each other, ya know. Like our love languages are just not compatible.”

“I totally get that, I do. People really underestimate the power of love languages. You could meet the nicest person in the world but if you ain’t vibing on that same level, it ain’t gonna work.”

“Exactly, like I need words of affirmation and quality time, and let's be honest that's not easy for Kells to do. He’s a busy man, I can’t fault him for that. The little free time he has he spends with his daughter and I’m not gonna take that away from him. So we just decided to go our separate ways; no hard feelings, no drama,” you said before taking a sip of your tea.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby. No hurt feelings, no drama; we keep the energy around us positive,” he swirled his finger as he talked. “I know it sucks, I know it’s sad, but you guys are doing this the right way.”

“Can I be honest with you for a second,” you took another swig of tea.

“Of course! Don’t hesitate to tell me the truth, the last thing I’d ever do is judge you. You know that,” he answered.

“I know,” you smiled. “The truth is the main reason I’m upset is not even breaking up with Colson or missing him as much as it is just me worrying about just being lonely and having to eventually start over again with someone new. I mean ‘cause let's be honest I’m not getting any younger here, and I wanna get married and have a family one day but I feel like I’m running out of time,” your eyes started to well with tears. ”My youth is slipping away, I’m not as pretty as I used to be —”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he scooted up the bed, taking hold of the tips of your fingers. “First of all, you are so so so so so beautiful,” he said as he shook his curls. “Inside and out,” he added stroking his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you,” you smiled into your tea.

“You know what I am gonna miss though…” you paused to take a sip. “The sex.” you laughed.

“You nasty,” Mod laughed as well, rolling himself off the bed. “Well since you seem to be feeling a little better, I’m gonna go to bed and let you sleep,” he said as he made his way to the bedroom door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually…” you began, setting your cup on the nightstand. “Do you think you can sleep in here with me? I don't wanna be alone.”

“Sure thing, scoot over” he laughed, playfully pushing you to the other side of the bed. “At least let me get my usual side.”

**********

You both eventually dozed off, only for you to be stirred awake a few hours later when Mod rolled to his side in his sleep out of habit, forgetting he was sharing his bed. Your eyes — still heavy with slumber — fluttered open to his sleeping face mere inches from your own. His proximity made you feel peaceful, comforted and content. There was something in that moment that felt so ‘right’ and yet you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. One of his hands laid palm side up next to yours and as your eyes began to flirt with sleep again you found yourself drawn to their creases. You gently traced over his lifeline and love line which caused his fingers to flicker reflexively. You tamed them with your fingertips, accidentally rousing Mod from his sleep. His tired eyes blinked sleepily in and out of wakefulness, a smile spreading across his face. Your fingers flirted together hesitantly before finally slotting into one another's.

It was in that exact moment everything began to make sense; It was Mod, it’s always been Mod. You had searched high and low for the perfect man to tick all your boxes, while all along Mod had been hiding in plain sight.

With your hand still intertwined with Mod’s, you rolled to your side, pulling his arm around you, making him the big spoon to your little spoon. He was so close you could feel his breath on your neck, the sensation traveling straight to your core. You couldn’t help but squirm, your backside rolling against his pelvis. And he couldn’t help the pretty sounds that left his mouth as much as he tried to hold them back. It was then that you knew you needed to feel him inside you.

You slipped his hand from yours and guided it under your nightshirt to your bare breast, pressing each of his fingers into your flesh until he took over, gripping and squeezing as he began to rut against you. Your chest heaved with want, burying your breasts even further into his grasp as his mouth showered the crook of your neck with open mouth kisses. Awkwardly you angled your head back towards him and he moved his kisses to your lips, parting them with his tongue. You welcomed it eagerly, pushing your tongue in past his lips as well, and tangling your hand in his curls. The warm embrace of his mouth felt like home, your tongue desperately wanting to take up a permanent residence there. You needed more.

With your free hand, you guided his hand slowly down from your breast to your white cotton panties, slipping it in past the waistband. He gladly accepted the invitation, rubbing firm yet gentle circles over your clit as he continued to kiss and rut against you. You removed your hand from his hair, and placed it over the growing bulge in his colorful joggers, palming him with need.

With one hand still working over your sensitive bud, he used the other to pull down the back of your panties, just enough to grant him access. He then pulled himself free and entered you from behind, your wetness welcoming him inside. Instantly your bodies fell into the natural rhythm of lovemaking. You spoke no words, your bodies communicating solely with the universal language of intimacy and breathy moans. You kept at it until the glow of dawn both reaching your peak as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. Exhausted, you both almost immediately fell back asleep, Mod still inside you. It was Noon by the time you both awoke.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” you teased playfully, tracing your fingers over the tattoos on his chest.

“Mornin’,” he smiled. “I — um, about last night. I apologize if I was outta place. I know you initiated it but I should've realized you were vulnerable from the breakup. I should've stopped you from making the rash decision, but something just felt so...so —”

“So right?” you interrupted him.

“Yeah, exactly!” he said sitting up. “How’d you know I was gonna say that?”

“ ‘cause I felt it too,” you smiled, sitting up alongside him. “I love you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted in a partner. No one’s ever cared about me like you do.”

“I love you, too” he placed a kiss on your forehead. “Like I’m IN love with you,” he smiled giddily. “God damn, why’d it take us so long to figure this out,” he let out a small laugh, raking his fingers through his hair in disbelief.

“I dunno but uh — I was thinking…” You paused to swing a leg over his waist straddling him. “Round two?”

He quickly gripped your ass, “Oh HELL yeah,baby.”

Part 2/ Epilogue here

#Mod Sun #Mod Sun smut #mod sun x reader #derek smith #mod fanfic #mod sun imagine #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #colson baker fanfic #colson baker

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

Text

D R A M

The title of this post is actually what I named the Word doc that I wrote this up in. This write takes place in an AU inspired by a post that said something along the lines of “supervillain winds up marrying the ex-spouse of their superhero archnemesis”. I saw that post and was like “time to make another version of the Superhero/villain AU”. So here you go.

——————————————————————————————

Stan slid into his regular stool at the bar. At the sound of soft muttering, he looked over. He raised an eyebrow. Normally, no one sat next to his stool. But today, a young woman sat there, staring morosely at her drink and mumbling something.

“Hey, hot stuff,” he said cheerfully, leaning in. She held up a hand. Light glinted off the golden band around her ring finger.

“I’m married,” she said dully.

“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Stan remarked. She glared at him. “I call it like I see it, toots.”

“Don’t call me ‘toots’,” she snapped.

“Fine. What should I call you, then?”

“By my name.”

“Which would be…?”

“…Angie.”

“Angie.” Stan held out a hand. “I’m Stan.” Angie shook the offered hand. “So, what brings a troubled wife to my favorite dive?”

“My dick of a husband,” Angie groused. She slumped over the bar. “I swear…some days he acts like a completely dif’rent man than the one I married.” Tears shone in her voice, along with a distinct southern accent. She picked up her drink and pulled on the straw. It rattled in the ice at the bottom of the otherwise empty glass. “And I’m all out.”

“I’ll cover it. What’s your drink?”

“Long Island iced tea.”

“Oof. Maybe I shouldn’t get you a second one of those. Those are a bad decision in a glass.” Angie straightened, her eyes boring into Stan’s.

“I can handle my liquor, sir. I bet I can handle it better ‘n you can,” she snarled. Stan held his hands up.

“Okay, okay, I believe you. Man, you’ve got claws, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Heh. I like a woman with a bit of fight in her.” Stan winked.

“Still married.”

“To that dick? Why?”

“He treats me right,” Angie mumbled into her drink. “…Sometimes.”

“Sometimes? What about the rest of the time?”

“He tries to get me to quit my job and be a housewife.”

“Why?”

“If I knew, I’d tell ya,” Angie said with a shrug. She tapped the rim of her glass. “So, about that drink…?”

“Hey, barkeep?” Stan called, flagging down the bartender. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one corner of Angie’s mouth turn up, into a ghost of a smile.

-----

Stan had just about finished putting his boots on when his favorite coworker, Undertow, stormed into the locker room. He watched with a raised eyebrow as Undertow tore open his locker, muttering under his breath.

“You’re in a mood today,” Stan commented. Undertow sighed. He looked back at Stan. The crew’s general policy was to keep masks on at all times in HQ, since there were some new heroes with telepathy who might be able to take a peek at a villain’s memories. Undertow’s outfit had a full cowl, rather than a domino mask like Stan’s, but even partially obscured, he had one of the most expressive faces Stan had ever seen. And at the moment, Undertow’s expression was frustrated and saddened.

“I thought she was fin’ly goin’ to leave him,” Undertow said. Stan’s second eyebrow raised to join his first.

He’s pretty damn upset. Normally, he keeps that accent in check.

“Who?” Stan asked.

“My sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Two.” Undertow sat on the bench next to Stan. “But the one I’m speakin’ of is my twin sister.” Stan racked his brain for any hints about Undertow’s background. As someone without villainous family connections, he wasn’t privy to information that some of his coworkers had. But he remembered hearing once that Undertow came from a long line of villains.

“Is she…in the trade?” Stan asked. Undertow shook his head.

“No. When we were younger, she wanted to be. But she decided not to, when she started datin’ the feller what became her husband.” Undertow scowled. “Her husband’s a real piece of shit.”

“Did he prevent her from being a villain?”

“Nah. He don’t know ‘bout our fam’ly bein’ full of villains. But he’s on the straight ‘n narrow, and wouldn’t have liked his wife to be breakin’ the law.” Undertow sighed heavily. “As it is, he don’t really like his wife doin’ much of anything. Which is why my sister needs to dump his sorry ass.” Undertow rubbed his face. “And I thought she was goin’ to do it this time. But she didn’t.”

“What happened?”

“They had another argument about how he wants her to start poppin’ out kids. She don’t want to yet, ‘cause she feels like takin’ maternity leave right now would cripple her career trajectory. And his response was that she won’t need maternity leave, ‘cause she can just quit her job. He keeps pushin’ that issue over ‘n over. He don’t like her workin’.”

“Sounds like a douche.”

“He is! And after that fight, she came to my house fer a shoulder to cry on. I did my best to sway her, but she still went back to him once she’d calmed down.” Undertow groaned loudly. “Honestly, at this point, I can’t think of a single thing that’d get her to leave him.”

“Maybe I should make a pass at her,” Stan joked. Undertow snorted.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. You’d be better fer her than what she’s got right now.”

-----

Stan went to the bar every night, hoping to see Angie again, but it took a month before she showed up. This time, she arrived after he did, visibly in tears. She made her way to the stool next to Stan’s and sat down. Faint breezes danced around her, kicking up her caramel-colored hair.

Is…is she a super? I knew she was something special. Stan wordlessly slid her his whisky, which she downed in one swallow. He winced.

“Your husband again?” he asked. Angie nodded morosely. “Well, at least he lasted a month before he pissed you off enough to make you drown your sorrows.”

“Nah, I just went to my brother’s last time,” Angie said hoarsely. “He’s got real moonshine, and I wanted somethin’ strong.”

“If your brother’s got hooch, why are you coming here?” Stan asked. Angie slid Stan’s empty tumbler back to him, determinedly avoiding eye contact.

“I…wanted to talk to you.”

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

“Look, lady, I’m not a marriage counselor.”

“I know. But you don’t have an agenda. My brother does. My whole fam’ly does, all my friends do. All they say is ‘leave him’.” Angie met Stan’s gaze. Her eyes were a bright, brilliant blue, swimming in tears. “I just need someone to listen.”

“I can do that, but you’re gonna have to pay for another whiskey for me first,” Stan said. Angie managed a watery chuckle.

“Fine.” Angie waved over the bartender and ordered herself a Long Island iced tea and another whiskey for Stan.

“All right,” Stan said once his drink was in hand. “What’s going on?”

“My ma became a stay-at-home mother when I was a tot. She kept house and raised six kids-” Stan coughed roughly.

“Six kids?” he croaked. Angie nodded. “What the-”

“We’re Catholic.”

“Ah, okay. Carry on.”

“Props to her. It’s a rough job to have, and I don’t look down on it.” Angie slammed her hands against the counter. A wind picked up, rattling the old beer advertisements on the wall. “But it ain’t fer me!”

“Lemme guess. Your husband wants you to be a stay-at-home mom.”

“Yes. Which I knew. But this time- this time, he brought my ma into it! Told me that I’d be good at it ‘cause my ma clearly was. I just-” Angie gestured wordlessly. “How- how could he think that’s a compliment?”

“Probably ‘cause he’s so dead set on you doing that,” Stan said with a shrug. “He’s already decided you’ll do it, so he’s already started complimenting you on it.”

“…That makes sense,” Angie said softly. She groaned loudly. “Why is he like this?” Stan shrugged. “I want to stay with him, to get him to change his mind-”

“That’s not your job. Your job is-” Stan frowned. “Wait, what do you do?”

“I’m a zookeeper.”

“Your job is to keep zoos,” Stan said. Angie furrowed her brow, like she couldn’t decide whether she was amused by Stan’s phrasing or not. “Not to drag your husband out of the fifties.”

“But I’m his wife.”

“And?”

“I’m s’pposed to help him change.”

“What if he doesn’t want to change?” Stan asked. “What do you do then?” The winds that had entered the bar with Angie abruptly died down.

“…Yer right.”

“I am?”

“He don’t want to change. He don’t want to listen to me. I can’t force it, I shouldn’t have even tried.” Angie dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and stood to leave.

“Hey, uh wait-” Stan started. Angie looked at him.

“Yes?”

“I, uh, I never got your last name.”

“It’s Hillcrest.” Angie slid her wedding ring off and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. “But not fer long.” She paused for a moment, watching Stan, then leaned in and placed a gentle peck on his cheek. With that, she left the bar.

Stan stared at the door long after she had gone, his mind running a mile a minute.

Did I just get her to break up with her husband?

-----

Stan walked out of the shower and headed for his locker to get dressed in his civvies. After he had his pants on, Undertow entered the locker room and went for his locker as well.

“Hey,” Stan said. Undertow grunted. “Is it your sister’s husband again?”

“Hmm?” Undertow turned around. “Oh, no, she finally dumped him.”

“Really? Good for her.”

“Yeah. But she’s got a new beau, and she insisted on dinner with him tonight.” Undertow sighed. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Is he a dick, too?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t met him.”

“Ah. I get it. You don’t wanna meet your sister’s new man just yet.”

“No, I do not.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not looking forward to dinner tonight, either,” Stan said, slipping on his T-shirt. “I’m meeting my girlfriend’s brother for the first time.”

“Oof.” Undertow looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t worry too much, Flamethrower. You’re a great guy.”

“Thanks, but I dunno if her brother’s gonna think that. My girlfriend says he can be a bit tough.” Undertow walked over to Stan and clapped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m sure it’ll go great.”

“Hopefully,” Stan muttered. Undertow smiled at him.

“If her brother doesn’t like you, he’s a damn fool.”

-----

Stan walked up to the address Angie had given him. When she divorced her ex-husband, she had moved in with her twin brother, Lute. Apparently, Lute was thrilled to have her with him again.

I get it, though. That twin bond is strong. Stan stopped in front of the door. He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Comin’!” Angie called. Stan felt some of his nerves disperse at the sound of her voice. The door opened, revealing the beaming face of his girlfriend. “Stanley!” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you so much fer agreein’ to this.”

“You said it’s important, so…”

“It is,” Angie said softly. “It really is.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh! And, um, remember how ya told me that yer not exactly…on the side of the law?” she said, her voice low. Stan nodded. Telling Angie he was a villain had been nerve wracking, but she had proven herself once again to be the best possible girlfriend and taken it in stride. “Well, the reason I took it so well is ‘cause I have a lot of fam’ly members who ‘re in the same career.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yep! Lute’s one of ‘em. If things go well tonight, I can prob’ly convince him to put a good word in fer ya, get ya moved up in the ranks a bit.”

“You really think so?” Stan asked eagerly. Angie nodded. “That would be awesome, Ang.”

“Just be charmin’, okay?” Angie messed with his shirt. “But that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Hey, Angie, the oven just beeped!” a voice shouted. Stan’s head whipped up.

That almost sounded like Undertow.

“All right, I’ll come take care of it,” Angie called back. She kissed Stan on the cheek. “Come on in and take a seat in the livin’ room.”

“You got it.” Stan kissed the top of her head and entered the house, following the hallway until he arrived at a cozy living room. He took a seat on the brown couch. Shortly after, a young man that looked eerily similar to Angie entered, holding a glass of water, and took a seat next to him.

“So, um…” the man said. He cleared his throat. “Yer Stan?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re Lute?”

“Yessir.”

“Nice to meet you,” Stan said, holding out a hand. Lute shook it, visibly reluctant. “Angie speaks pretty highly of you.”

“She does the same fer you.” Lute cleared his throat again. “What do you do?”

“I sell used cars.”

“Used cars?”

“Yeah.” Stan shrugged. “It’s just to make some dough while I work on my passion projects.” Lute eyed Stan with interest. Much like when he had heard Lute’s voice earlier, Stan was reminded of Undertow. Something about the look in Lute’s gray eyes was eerily familiar.

“Passion projects? Like what?”

“Oh, uh, I’m keeping them to myself until they work out,” Stan said.

Don’t wanna spill just yet that I want to become a villain full-time.

“Ah.” Lute seemed disappointed. He looked down at his glass of water. After a moment, he spoke again. “You a super?”

“Yeah. You?” Stan asked without thinking. He fought back a wince.

Angie just told you he was a villain, of course he’s a super, you dumbass. Lute smirked. The water in his glass shot up, hovered as a sphere for a split second, then zipped around the room before returning to his glass. Stan’s jaw dropped.

“Whattaya think?” Lute asked snidely.

“…I think you’re a super,” Stan said.

Shit, it is Undertow! How did I wind up dating my coworker’s twin sister without realizing it?

“Yup.” Lute winked. “Better yet, I’m a mask. Give ya twenty bucks if ya can guess who.”

“Lute!” Angie scolded from the kitchen. Lute groaned.

“Fine, I’ll drop it.” Before Stan could think of what to do with the information that Lute was Undertow, the villain in question spoke again. “So, ya sell used cars. What’s yer education like?”

“Uh, high school.”

“That’s it?” Lute asked. Stan nodded. Lute frowned. “My sister has a-”

“Doctorate in herpetology, I know,” Stan said.

“And you don’t think it’s odd at all that someone so educated is with someone who only graduated high school?” Lute pressed. Stan shrugged.

“It just means that she’s smart enough for the both of us,” he said airily. Lute froze. His eyes began to frantically search Stan’s face.

“…What did ya just say?” he whispered.

“That Angie’s smart enough for both of us,” Stan said. A memory abruptly surfaced of a conversation he’d had with Undertow a few days ago. He had mentioned his relationship, as well as the discrepancy between his education and his girlfriend’s. And Undertow had simply replied that Stan’s girlfriend would have to be smart enough for the both of them, then.

“Hmm.” Lute leaned back, still staring at Stan. “Say, yer a super, right? What kind?” In lieu of a verbal response, Stan snapped his fingers. A flame burst to life on his fingertips.

“Whattaya think?”

“Flamethrower,” Lute whispered. Stan extinguished the flame.

“Undertow.”

“Yer- I-” Lute dragged his hands down his face. “Consarnit!”

“Yeah, I gotta admit, finding out that my girlfriend’s twin is my favorite coworker is pretty weird,” Stan confessed. Lute groaned. “But you seem to be taking this way harder than you should be.”

“It’s just- yer my fav’rite coworker, too.”

“You make that sound like it’s a problem.”

“It is. I like ya, Stan, which is goin’ to make it difficult to be hard on ya.”

“Wait, what?” Stan asked. Lute sighed.

“I have to be hard on ya to make sure yer all right fer my sister.”

“What? Come on, man!”

“My sister just got out of a bad relationship. I don’t want her to wind up in another one right off the bat.”

“You know me. I’m a good guy. I treat Angie right.”

“That’s what I thought ‘bout Max,” Lute said softly. “Hell, we’d been friends since we were in diapers. I thought he was a decent sort. So when he ‘n Angie started datin’ in high school, I didn’t bat an eye. I should’ve. If I had, maybe I could’ve stopped Angie from needin’ a divorce.”

“Lute.” Stan and Lute looked up. Angie had entered the living room. She crossed over to Lute, knelt in front of him, and placed a hand on one of his knees. “Don’t blame yourself. The only person to blame is me. I should’ve left the minute he became a hero, and I was goin’ to have to abandon the dream of followin’ the fam’ly tradition. But I stayed. Even when he started raggin’ on me ‘bout how I needed to be a more traditional wife.”

“You were in a toxic relationship,” Lute said softly. “Yer not to blame.”

“The only person to blame here is your dick of an ex-husband,” Stan said. Angie and Lute looked over. “Lute’s right, Angie. It’s difficult to leave a toxic relationship. My mom’s proof of that. But Angie’s right, too, Lute. It’s not your fault, either. Sometimes…sometimes people start out good, but then they get worse. Even if you had been hard on Max when he started dating Angie, things still could have played out the way they did.”

“Yeah,” Lute said. He sighed. “Yer right, Stan. We should be blamin’ Max, not ourselves. Especially since he’s apparently a hero.” Lute directed the statement at Angie, who paled. “Banjolina, what’s that about?”

“Banjolina?” Stan mumbled.

“I didn’t share information either way,” Angie said tartly, getting to her feet. “I ain’t a snitch.”

“Ya won’t be tellin’ us what his hero name is, then?” Lute asked. Angie shook her head. “Hmph. Guess we’ll just have to figure it out on our own.”

“Speaking of secret identities,” Stan said, “why didn’t you warn us that we already knew each other?” Angie grinned.

“I might not have ever gotten into the villainy game, but that don’t mean I ignore the chance to stir up some mischief.” Something in the kitchen beeped. “Oh, I’ve got to get that.” She rushed back into the kitchen.

“Given what ya just said and what I already knew about you,” Lute said slowly, “I’ll drop the protective big brother speech.” Stan leaned back.

“Cool. I mean, no offense, but you’re not as intimidating as you think you are,” Stan replied. Lute rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” He leaned closer to Stan. “Between the two of us, I think we could figure out which hero it is what broke Angie’s heart and trapped her in a bad relationship fer years on end.” Stan nodded.

“I agree. That motherfucker needs to get a firm ass-kicking.”

#I changed Lute's villain name from Tsunami to Undertow bc Tsunami was so that it would match Angie's name of Sirocco #but he doesn't have that motivation for his villain name in this situation #I am a big fan of Drama in my AUs so this AU is v fun to play with lmao #Best Revenge AU #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Stangie #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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twilightknight17 · 4 years

Text

Last night on P5 Scramble:

Mood whiplash, yelling about winter clothes, and Yusuke being Yusuke.

So a while ago Bun described Akira Konoe as “Japanese Tony Stark”, and I laughed, but now, uh.......

Yeah, that’s just Japanese Tony Stark. XDDDD If this guy isn’t the Pride Jail Monarch, I’ll be very surprised. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, but... Well. That doesn’t mean anything.

I’m going to kick his ass. There’s only room for one Akira in this game. :P

I do not trust this woman. Not in the slightest. She’s either nefarious or a complete airhead. “Lemme just follow the Phantom Thieves and ask them eight billion questions that are none of my business. That’s definitely trustworthy behavior.”

I’m the leader; my friends should not be able to override my decision to run for it. :(

The stupid part is, they really do tell her everything. The cognitive world, changes of heart, Sophia... Futaba even agrees to send her Sophia’s code after they make a deal! I mean, she’s Emma’s creator! Why are we trusting her after five minutes, kids?! Especially when she says shit like this!

She reminds me very much of how I wrote Wakaba for Intermezzo. 100% focused on the knowledge and the possibilities, oblivious to the consequences. She’s so excited that her fancy app can access another world, that the fact that it’s hurting people is an afterthought.

She also reacted weirdly to Sophia’s name. So until further notice, I don’t trust her.

(It’s kind of funny. I trust Zenkichi more than her, and the game went out of its way to show us that Zenkichi is “using” us. X’D)

A small detour before we get on the road to Sapporo: P5S is out here feeding the Shukita shippers some good food.

Yusuke pretty much says, “If you say so...” XD

Yusuke also continues his trend of being the Thief most likely to discuss stripping.

(He’s talking about sleeping in the stuffy tent on top of the camper.)

Anyway, we’re off to Sapporo, in Hokkaido! It’s much cooler up north, and the city seems very pretty. Not as cool as the Tanabata decorations in Sendai, but nice nonetheless. They have a tower (that I am not allowed to go up, damn it), and food trucks near the camper parking.

I was having a grand time laughing at the difference between “Corn” and “Corn!”, and then immediately afterwards got a cutscene about a small child and her mother leaving flowers for another small child who had died in an accident. Pretty sure I stopped mid-laugh because what even.

And then it was immediately back to levity because the Thieves are off to the fancy bathhouse.

Fortunately, no one did anything weird, although we did have an uncomfortable moment of listening to Futaba being awkward. But that was quickly smoothed over by Yusuke being Yusuke. Once again.

Never change, Yusuke.

Anyway, Haru knows the mayor of Sapporo, who apparently used to visit her father and spend time with her as a child, which is a cute mental image. Unfortunately, Mayor Hyodo is the Monarch of Sapporo, so once again we have to target an important adult in Haru’s life. It will surely go better, this time. Placing bets on whether the accident in the park is related to the Jail forming.

And once again, the Jail is fantastic.

They are really going all-out with the potential for cool environments. I didn’t manage to get a screenshot of the main ice castle, because it was during a cutscene, but oh my gosh I love this. I’m also fascinated by the idea that this is the first time an environment inside a cognitive space could be an actual problem. Like... Futaba’s desert was fine once they got into the actual Pyramid. In this case, they have to wander around in the freezing temperatures. It doesn’t affect the gameplay, but it would be so interesting if it did.

From the giant knives and forks everywhere, I’m assuming Mariko Hyodo is Gluttony’s Monarch. Which... the giant knives and forks are a little bit literal for my taste. It also reinforces my theory that we’re going in the same order of Sins from P5, but disproves that each PT corresponds to the same one, since this is Haru’s and not Makoto’s.

There’s a point during exploration where a massive snowstorm hits and makes it hard to see, and traps you in the Jail, which is also cool. It’s making me want to do an Hours version of Scramble just so I can mess with all these fiddly details (and also throw more weird stuff at Zenkichi).

The things that made me yell the loudest, though, were the snowmen.

I mean, there’s one Jack Frost snowman (and now I know where the avalanche of Jack Frosts probably lives).

But the rest of the snowmen are dressed like this???

A whole army of them???

Atlus??? Why?????

I know this probably means absolutely nothing but... You could have used any other scarf color or stripe, but you used the Scarf?

Are we going to freeze to death in this Jail? X’‘‘‘DDDD

We’ve escaped the Jail for now; hopefully next time I can get a good picture of the castle. And omg I hope Mariko turns into some kind of really cool ice fae monster thing. :D

#Li plays P5Scramble #yelling at the group chat about scarves at 11pm like a boss

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loverdrew · 5 years

Text

My Everything III

You’ve always been so passive, to yourself, and a little bit naive, but what unfolds when he comes in and turns your whole world upside?

Everything I II

The wind blew my hair straight into my face blocking my view as I rushed to the library all the way at the back of campus. I held several books in my hands rushing to catch a good spot where many people wouldn’t be sitting by so I not be worried about people peeping in on my conversions that I would unfortunately be having with the bad boy himself. My stepdad thought it would be best to tutor the boy since he is flunking every class since he got here, to which my response was ��who cares, because his dad is literally the dean, meaning he can graduate without even trying’. He fought me on it for a little bit until I couldn’t fight it anymore, and began rushing to our first session.

I plopped my bags on the table when a few people shushed me, me giving them a pouty face before shrugging and waiting for the shrew to arrive. After 5 minutes I smelled that boyish cologne it seems all guys have, and a gust of wind shot over my shoulders before a jean jacket had landed on the table next to me. He sighed and only brought one book, not even a notebook or a pencil.

“Really? Shawn, I am only here to help you because my stepdad is making me. I can walk out of here and not give a damn if you fail out of college or not.”

“Help me? Like you did at the party last weekend? Yea, some heroic act, I didn’t need your help then and I don’t need it now.” He rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” I said casually and began packing up my bag and throwing it over my shoulder. His hand quickly found its way to my wrist tugging me back.

“Okay wait, look I do secretly need your help,” he whispered looking around to see if anyone was watching, “if I don’t pass all my classes with at least a 70% in each, my dad said he’s kicking me out and making me go to some military school.”

I sighed and sat back down, getting out some paper and a pencil for him, to which he nodded in a thank you. “Why do you do that? It’s like once someone challenges you, you freeze up and try to put on this charming cute boy act.”

“Is it working on you?” he smirked at me, as he chuckled. I laughed back, actually finding his remark witty. “It’s only happened to me when I’m with my father, he’s the only one I can’t argue with. So my natural response to just do whatever he says.”

“Are you that scared of him?”

“He determines my future, gotta make the old man happy to have a good life ahead of me.” He began writing the first problem down so we could practice.

“Parents have a right to guide you, but ultimately it is your decision on what you do in your life. What do you even want to do?”

“Okay let’s not get carried away here. Just because we’re somewhat cool with each other now because you saved me at the party and are now tutoring me doesn’t mean I’m going to go spilling my whole life story. Now go, teach me the first problem.” He suddenly shut down, not even looking me in the eyes anymore but only at the textbook in front of us. I swallowed, taken aback from his change in demeanor, and began giving him steps in order to solve the first problem.

Throughout the 30 minutes we spent going over practice problems, I could sense something was still off about Shawn. His lip quivered each time I leaned forward towards him and the book to reread a problem, he tightened his grip on the pencil when I flipped my hair back to get it out of my face, his jaw twitched whenever I told him good job for solving something. I didn’t want to play up the possibility of plain old me completely hindering the school’s most desired and sought after bad boy, but I couldn’t help but wonder if somehow I made him feel something other than annoyed. My women’s intuition may have just been off, but every now and then those little remarks would make the back of my neck feel hot or my hands sweat. I think he was a little more oblivious to that. I couldn’t stop replaying the night at the party, it could’ve been the alcohol in us or the rush of trying to get him back on his feet but, for a moment it felt like it was just us; no loud music, no other people. I don’t know what about him I found so damn interesting, but I have to admit even the first day when I was annoyed by his actions, I couldn’t help but continue to observe him.

My thoughts and sweaty hands started to take a toll on me and my heart began beating in my ears. I didn’t want to like Shawn, I told myself nobody would get in my way of my dreams and he was already starting to wreck them by taking up all of my brain space and distracting me.

“Uh Shawn- I uh, I have to go. I’m sorry...” I grabbed my pencil from his hand and started to put my jacket back on again quickly. He stood up grabbing my elbow to slow down.

“Whoa, hey, stop what’s going on are you okay?” he actually asked sincerely, which it made it all the more worse. His brown eyes popped with worry.

“I’m just worried about another test coming up and I forgot about it until now.”

“Lemme take you somewhere. It’s quiet, no one will bother you and you’ll be able to study with no distraction.” That’s what you think. He could tell I was contemplating and instead of waiting for an answer, he grabs my bag and his jacket and papers and began walking off towards the exit. I laughed yelled ‘hey!’ while all he did was grin and tell me to follow him.

We walked for a few minutes before he stopped at a pond just behind the administration building. There was yellow and orange leaves on several trees surrounding it, and absolutely nobody was there. There was no road so you couldn’t hear car sounds, and no students since it was off the path of going to the main education buildings.

“Whoa Shawn...how do you know about this spot?” I said while staring blankly at the beautiful vibrant tree colors.

“I was in my fathers office last year, he kept going off about my grades to me so I got frustrated and walked out. I kept going down every hallway until I reached outside and found this place. It instantly calmed me down for some reason. Even during the summer I came here to -” he stopped talking and looked like he was trying to figure out how to finish that sentence. He ended up completely dismissing it and began taking his work out again to get back to studying. I complied with him, seeing as I did not want to crack the bad boy into speaking, so I pulled out a granola bar as a joke and handed it to him.

“Granola?” And he took it with a slight smile.

_____

After about an hour of going over problems from the book, Shawn scooted closer to me on the ground in front of the pond. He let himself lean back, and took a refreshing breath.

“Music.” He said calmly, looking at the ripples in the water in front of us, leaves rustling slightly above us.

“What?” I laughed, but was intrigued.

“You asked me earlier what I want to do with my life. Music.” I was surprised, thinking he was the kind of guy to make fun of music if it wasn’t about naked girls or getting into trouble.

“Oh uhm, what kind of music?”

“I don’t want to say it, knowing my image,” I laughed agreeing, “But mainly soft pop or ballads. I’ve been playing guitar since I was little. It helped me literally drown out my father screaming at me even as young as 8 years old. Then, I started writing words to the chords I was playing and it made me feel really free. I’m working on one write now.” I turned my body towards him with my legs crossed, isolating the homework we were suppose to finish by today. I was way more interested in hearing what this masterpiece could be.

“Sing it for me.” I smiled.

“I can do even better.” He quickly got up and pulled a black case out of a bush near the back entrance of the building. He plopped the case on the ground next to us and pulled out a gorgeous shiny wooden guitar. He put his fingers on the first chord to the song, and closed his eyes as he sang the lyrics.

“You’ve got, a hold of me / Don’t even know your power / I stand, a hundred feet / but I fall when I’m around you”

You wouldn’t imagine someone who acted the way Shawn did to sound so beautiful when singing. He had amazing flow, intense grip on the notes but also so much fluidity to change notes, but with a slight raspy sound that gave his words way more emotion. I could tell instantly the song was about his dad. The pressure he’s under being the dean’s son, how it raises his anxiety level even more so than it already should.

“I’m sayin’ baby please have mercy on me / Take it easy on my heart / Even though you don’t mean to hurt me / You keep tearing me apart / Would you please have, mercy, mercy, on my heart”

He strummed softly to end the first part of the song that he finished, and wouldn’t even look up at me. It almost looked like he was embarrassed by what he just shared with me which was more than he had probably ever shared with anyone, and he didn’t even tell anything to me directly, he let the music speak. I suspect he’s use to that, constantly pouring out his feelings onto paper and transferring it on strings, that nobody would ever hear or see.

“You know, despite what I say about you, I really did appreciate saving me at the party, and tutoring me even though you’re probably miserable.” He carefully placed his guitar away in the case, still not looking up at me.

“Actually Shawn, after that, I’m really glad I’m here.” His eyes finally made their way up to me, almost scared of how much I knew about his life now. I gently laid my hand on his knee.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe with me.” His face started doing that thing again that he did at the party when I was cleaning him up, just staring at almost every crease and crack on my face. His nose started to dip as his head leaned closer, my breath caught in my throat.

Suddenly it was interrupted by a ringing in his pocket. He sighed and pulled it out, seeing it was a text message from someone. His face straightened out and he quickly stood up.

“I’m sorry I have to meet up with someone, I have to go right now.” He practically threw his guitar case into the bush but made sure it still wasn’t visible, and pulled on his jacket before bolting without even as much as a second look at me. I scuffed, believing it was once again too good to be true.

_______

What Y/N didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, is what Shawn thought when he ran out on his study session with her. He briskly walked to the parking lot, jumping into Josh’s car. The two sat silent, Josh looking annoyed with both hands in fists on the steering wheel.

“You can’t keep doing this Shawn. She’s going to find out.” Josh spat at him.

“She’s not going to find out, not if you keep your damn mouth shut.”

“Dumb ass, it’s not just me that know, everyone in our group knows! Your fault for telling Drake, he has never kept a secret since high school.”

“Well Mara and Logan definitely won’t tell her, they like her too much to hurt her. And we all know you have a thing for her lover boy.”

Josh almost sprung from his seat to strangle Shawn, but instead gave him a death glare.

“Either you stop this shit with her right now or I will tell her you and your dad set up your guys’ classes together so you’d get to know her and only help you pass this semester to keep you from going to military school. I’ll tell her it’s all an act, to use her smarts to keep your pathetic ass in college.”

Shawn chin locked, looking like he would smash Josh’s head in, slumped into the seat and smashed his hand on the dashboard in anger.

“We all know she’d be better off without you. I actually like her, I can take care of her, I can be the guy she needs. We all know she’s just another person on the list who doesn’t need you in their lives. I’m telling you for your own good.”

Tag List:

@fallinallincurls @the-diabolic @spideylovin @shawn-youth @bitchinhargrove @havethetimeeofyourlifee @turtoix @alilovesshawn

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes masterlist #shawn mendes smut

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ghostking-wenning · 4 years

Text

Radishes, Chapter 4

I wrote this all in one go last night, and I think it came together pretty good! So y’all get a lil two-fer today. This chapter is mostly dialogue, which is probably my specialty! Lemme know whatcha think.

1900 words, rated T for drinking I guess, NingXian, modern au, first date, momentary angst but it’s resolved really quick!

Enjoy~!

“Thank you! We’re The Whatevers! We have stickers and T-shirts at the merch counter. Have a great night!” Wuxian waved as he and his bandmates gathered their things and left the stage. Their set was short, but it was easily the most exciting thing Qionglin had seen in … well, ever, probably. The host in the strappy dress came back, and thanked The Whatevers, chatting to fill time while the next band set up.

“Hey!” Wuxian suddenly appeared at his side. He’d shed his leather jacket, and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

“Hey!” Qionglin parroted back, hopping to his feet. “That was amazing! You really are a rockstar!” Wuxian had put on heeled boots for the show, and now towered a few inches over him. Qionglin had to tip his head further back to meet his eyes.

Wuxian laughed breezily. “Thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it. It means a lot.”

“Of course! I um, I really like your s-singing. And the lyrics were really poetic and moving, but still cool and exciting! I-- I haven’t heard a lot of music like that before.”

“Oh, gosh, thanks!” Wuxian gushed. “I didn’t know anyone actually listened to the lyrics, heh…”

“You asked me to,” Qionglin explained. “But I think I would’ve noticed them anyway, they’re…” He searched for the right word. “Beautiful.”

Wuxian didn’t say anything for a while, just stared down at him intensely. Qionglin shuffled his feet and broke eye contact.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Wuxian eventually asked.

“Uh, out? Where?” Qionglin forced himself to look back at him, but his expression was still so piercing. Qionglin bit his lower lip, and his stomach flipped over when Wuxian’s gaze flicked downward.

His face finally softened, a slight smile curling his lips. “I know a place. Let’s go.”

Qionglin followed him back through the greenroom, and out of the club. They walked a few blocks, to a quiet bar called the Lilypad. It was decorated in blues and greens and purples, live plants overflowing from handmade ceramic pots. Soft, traditional Chinese music lilted through the air.

“Wow,” Qionglin remarked. “This place is cute! Kind of a 180 from the Devil’s Den, huh?”

“Mhm!” Wuxian agreed. “It’s an old favorite. My dad took my brother and me here for our first drinks when we turned 18.”

They took their seats across from each other at a small round table. Brightly colored fish swam in an aquarium next to them. Wuxian perused the drink menu. They had a beautiful view of the river, glinting faintly in the twilight.

“What’s good here?” Qionglin wondered aloud. “This probably isn’t surprising, but I don’t drink very often. Pretty much just on holidays at family dinners or whatever.”

“Hmm… do you trust me?” Wuxian asked, peering over the menu, one eyebrow raised.

Qionglin looked at him, confused. “Yes…?”

“Good!” Wuxian said decisively, tapping the side of his nose. “Wait right here.” And he whisked away.

“Okay…” Qionglin waited obediently. A couple of minutes later, Wuxian reappeared with two glasses of pale golden wine.

“This is one of the best things you’ll ever taste,” he promised, setting one glass in front of Qionglin.

Qionglin raised his eyebrows. “Not what I was expecting…” he began, lifting the glass and sniffing curiously. The wine smelled of lotus blossoms and ripe plums. He took a tentative sip. The golden liquor warmed his lips, but didn’t burn as it slid down his throat. Its sweet aroma reminded him of summertime. “It’s delicious!”

“Right?” Wuxian effused. “It’s called Hefeng. It’s a specialty from my hometown. Also, I lied. It’s the second best thing you’ll ever taste. The first one is harder to find up here.” He drank happily from his glass, smiling fondly.

“Oh? What’s the first one?”

“It’s called Emperor’s Smile. They only make it in Suzhou, though, and the vineyard that makes it doesn’t distribute it. Something about how it doesn’t taste right outside of Suzhou, I dunno. Sounds like bullshit to me, but it’s damn good wine.” He sighed wistfully. “If I get a bottle, I’ll save you a glass.”

Qionglin felt heat rising to his face, and tried to hide it behind his wine glass. He took a long sip.

“Pace yourself,” Wuxian warned. “It’s stronger than it tastes.”

Indeed it was. Less than a quarter-hour later, Qionglin’s glass was empty and he was feeling quite buzzed. Oops, he thought faintly. Oh well!

“So tell me about yourself,” Wuxian prompted. He swirled the wine in his glass; he was on his second cup, but seemed thus far unaffected.

“Oof,” Qionglin muttered. “What’s there to tell? I’m … Just a farmer, I guess. I like plants and animals. I like to cook. That’s kind of it.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly the most interesting guy around. I’m probably pretty boring, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” Wuxian chided. “If you were boring, we wouldn’t be here. Tell me about farming! How’d you get into that?”

Qionglin blinked. No one had ever asked. “Well, it’s a family thing. The farm’s been in our family for over a hundred years. My cousins and I are starting to take over the bulk of the work from our aunties and granny.”

“What about your folks? What do they do?”

“Oh… Um… They were doctors.”

“On the farm?”

“N-no, I mean… before they died.” Awkwardly, Qionglin glanced out the window. It was dark out now, but he could see city lights twinkling across the water.

“What? No way!” Wuxian blurted out.

“Uh… It’s not exactly unheard of…” Qionglin picked at his paper napkin.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Wuxian corrected. “I um. Lost my parents too. When I was really little.”

“Oh.” Qionglin looked back at him and offered an apologetic smile. “What a thing to have in common, huh? But I thought you mentioned your dad earlier?”

“Yeah, I was adopted. I was in the foster system for a few years, then a friend of my father’s found me and took me in. He’s been very kind to me. His kids are like my real siblings.” He cleared his throat. “So, what about you? Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah, a big sister!” Qionglin said, already forgetting the maudlin turn their conversation had taken. “Her name is Qing and she’s the coolest. She’s in medical school here in the city. What are your siblings like?”

Wuxian smiled warmly. “I have a big sister too. She’s probably my favorite person ever. Her name’s Yanli, she’s a pastry chef. My brother, Wanyin, is… he’s my best friend, but he’s kind of an acquired taste. In other words, he’s a total dickhead, but I love him anyway!” His laughter was almost as beautiful as his singing.

Qionglin couldn’t help but laugh too. “They sound great,” he mused.

“Yeah…” Wuxian sighed. “Even my boyfriend likes them, and he doesn’t like anyone!”

Qionglin’s heart dropped like a stone. “... your what…?” He whispered, praying he’d heard wrong. Involuntarily, his hands curled into fists in his lap.

Wuxian blanched. “My-- my boyfriend? Don’t tell me-- did I never mention him?”

“No. You didn’t.” Qionglin said shortly. He couldn’t believe he’d been so naive. He must’ve misread his kindness and openness as flirting, and like a fool, fell for it. Maybe Wuxian was just like this to everyone he met. He felt hot from the inside out, like his bones had turned to molten lead. His skin prickled, and his breath hitched like suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “I should go.” He stood abruptly, slapped a stack of small bills on the table, more than enough for one glass of wine, and hurried out of the bar.

The shock sobered him up instantly. He walked briskly down the street, vision blurred with tears. He hoped he was walking back to his car, but the streets all looked the same, especially in the dark. Stupid! Of course he already has someone! Why would he ever waste his time on me? He roughly swiped the tears away with his shirtsleeves. Just my fucking luck, isn’t it? The first time I ever like someone and it goes like this. So much for new beginnings and taking chances, huh?

“Wait--!” Wuxian fumbled for his wallet, paid quickly and ran after him. “Qionglin! Wait, I can explain!”

Qionglin walked faster and tried to ignore him, but he caught up easily and cut him off. Qionglin took a shaky breath. “Explain what?” He spat, refusing to look at him. “I … I thought you… ugh, never mind.” Words rarely came easily, but it was even harder to speak when he was so worked up. “God I’m an idiot…” he muttered.

“No, you’re not--! I didn’t mean to… to lead you on or anything. I-- my boyfriend and I-- we’re open. I’m polyamorous.”

Qionglin blinked a few times. He’d heard that word before, but wasn’t sure he understood.

“It means I sometimes have feelings for more than one person.” Wuxian explained. “My boyfriend, Wangji -- he doesn’t feel the same way, but he understands that I do, we have an agreement and everything. I-- I swear I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I really just forgot I hadn’t already told you.” Qionglin still avoided looking at him, but his tone was gentle and sincere.

Qionglin sniffed. “S-- so what?”

“So… Can I have a do-over? A new first date, a proper one. A-anything you want to do! I know I don’t deserve it… but I like you. Will you let me try again?” Slowly, shyly, he reached for Qionglin’s hand. Qionglin flinched but didn’t pull away, letting Wuxian gently prise his fingers apart and twine them together.

Qionglin’s head was spinning. Suddenly he felt tipsy again. “S-so…” he repeated slowly. “You do like me…?”

Wuxian chuckled softly. “Yeah, I do.” With his free hand he reached up and delicately dabbed the tears from the corners of Qionglin’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I upset you like that. That was my fault.” For someone so carefree and vivacious, he could be surprisingly mature when he wanted to be. “I won’t do it again.”

Qionglin swallowed hard. “Okay…” he whispered.

Wuxian stepped even closer. Their chests were nearly touching. “Okay? You mean it?” He asked hopefully.

Qionglin nodded. He looked up at Wuxian finally, and managed a shy smile. Wuxian pulled Qionglin into his arms, squeezing tightly. Qionglin wondered when was the last time anyone hugged him like this. Tentatively, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around Wuxian’s waist, leaning into the embrace and resting his forehead on his shoulder. He was still reeling a bit from the emotional whiplash, but Wuxian’s arms were warm, strong, and grounding. His heart rate slowed, and his breathing evened out. "So a do-over, huh? A proper… date?" He said, voice muffled in the collar of Wuxian's jacket.

Wuxian finally let go and stepped back, hands still lingering on Qionglin’s own. “Yes! Let me know what you want to do. Say the word and we’ll go, okay?”

Qionglin thought for a moment, humming and tipping his head to the side.

“You don’t have to think of it right now!” Wuxian clarified. “You can just text me when you decide.”

Qionglin shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it. Let’s go to the zoo. I'm… free tomorrow! Or next Saturday. Every Saturday, actually…"

Wuxian smiled that sunshine smile. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

#my writing #my art #ningxian #wei wuxian #wen ning #mdzs fic #keep an eye out for dumb little easter eggs #modern au #farmer's market au #it's not really about the farmer's market anymore lmao #edited

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crooked-sleep · 5 years

Text

Day 1 - 'Tis the Season

“Fuck you, you big old red son of a bitch!”

“That’ll be coal in your stocking, you evil bastard!”

The rotund old man dressed in red delivers a rather impressive uppercut to the ugly faun-looking guy. Bizarro World Mr. Tumnus ducks, and growls threateningly from between teeth clenched tight and stained old-blood brown.

“Is this really happening?” Dean asks, disbelief coloring his tone.

“Kinda asking myself the same thing,” Sam replies, and then flinches when the faun thing screams and launches itself at – fuck me, that’s Santa fucking Claus, thinks Dean hysterically.

Santa moves out of the way with surprising speed for a guy his size and age, and uses the faun’s own momentum against him, grabbing one of his horns and pushing him into the nearest wall. Dean watches, only dimly aware of his mouth hanging open, as Santa pulls out a glinting silver knife from his belt and stabs the goat thing. It howls, loud and shrill, and Sam jumps a little again before pressing himself into Dean’s side, not lowering his weapon even a little.

“Why don’t you just die?” Santa roars. It’s weird as fuck. The man – or whatever he is – doesn’t look jolly at all. Then again, it’s kind of hard to pull off the whole adorable-old-grandpa schtick when you’re brandishing a knife, thinks Dean.

“Santa stabbed Mr. Tumnus,” Dean tells Sam, as if Sam’s not watching the whole thing with wide eyes too.

“That’s not Mr. Tumnus, that’s Krampus,” Sam tells Dean, only half paying attention to the conversation.

“Oh, look, he stabbed him again.”

“Should we help?” Sam asks as Santa stabs Krampus a third time. The howling is getting deafening now. “I feel like we should help.”

Dean casts a contemplative look at the scene before him. Krampus is still shrieking, and Santa looks more and more pissy with each futile stabbing attempt. “Nah,” Dean says in the end. “Let’s leave them to it. Not a big fan of getting my ass handed to me by Santa. Or the goat thing.”

“Krampus.”

“Whatever.”

Finally getting tired of the whole thing, Santa lets out a frustrated “Ugh, fuck my life” – and isn’t that the weirdest thing Dean’s ever heard – before grabbing Krampus by the horns and stuffing him face-first into the large sack he’s been lugging around. Dean opens his mouth to point out that there’s no fucking way that 8-foot tall Krampus is going to fit in there, but Sam elbows him to keep his mouth shut – and anyway, whatever mojo Santa’s got on his sack (and there are a million puns Dean could be making here but is choosing not to, a fact for which Sam should be thanking him on his knees) seems to apply to Krampus too.

“I’m not sure that I’m not dreaming right now,” Dean admits to Sam as they watch Krampus’s hooves vanish into the sack.

“I honestly wondered if we’d been drugged at some point,” Sam says. “Don’t think we were, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m real,” Santa cuts in, looking grumpy as all hell as he drags the sack to the honest-to-God sleigh parked next to the Impala. He swings, powerful and sure, and the sack lands in the backseat with a loud thump and even louder “FUCK YOU!”

“FUCK YOU TOO!” Santa yells back.

“Fuck me,” Sam whispers, in an uncharacteristic display of disbelief.

“Later,” mutters Dean.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas,” Santa grumbles, dusting his hands off and then his clothes. “Thanks for all the help, by the way.”

“You were doing fine on your own,” Dean points out.

“Yeah, this is nothing new,” sighs Santa. “Fucking Krampus. Told him a million times to stick to his territory and stay out of mine, but does he listen? Fuck no. Who the hell even tortures kids these days, anyway?”

Sam and Dean share a look, and simultaneously arrive at the decision not to comment.

Santa continues ranting. “I mean, coal’s more than enough. Gets the message across, doesn’t it? Screw you, little Billy Bob, you were a little asshole the whole year, so now you don’t get presents while everyone else does. That’s punishment enough, in my opinion. Torture and all that is totally uncalled for.”

“Totally,” Dean echoes. “So old school, right?”

Santa glowers at him, unamused. “Watch your mouth, or it’s coal in your stocking, too.”

Sam disguises his laugh with a cough.

“Joke’s on you, we don’t do Christmas,” Dean informs Santa squarely.

“Not what happened in 2007,” Santa retorts.

“Well, that was different,” Dean snaps.

“I think what Dean’s trying to say is that it’s a good thing you defeated Krampus,” Sam says hurriedly, when it begins to look like Santa’s considering tossing Dean in with Krampus too. “Since, you know, we probably couldn’t have done it on our own. And he was, you know. Torturing little children.”

“You’re welcome,” Santa says after a pause.

Sam gives him an awkward little smile, and to Dean’s surprise, Santa returns it. Fricking Sam, he thinks with a glower. Charming the pants off everyone around him with those damn puppy eyes. Including fricking Santa damned Claus.

“What are you going to do with him?” Sam asks, nodding towards the wriggling sack in the sleigh. Krampus, it seems, is not taking well to his imprisonment.

“Keep him locked up for a while, or something,” sighs Santa. “I’ll figure it out. Before that, though, I’m getting drunk off my ass.”

Dean blinks. “Is that allowed? I mean, don’t you have, I don’t know, presents to deliver?”

“Sack’s empty, genius,” Santa reminds him. “Means I’m done with all that. It’s happy hour now, and Lord, I deserve a drink or ten.”

“Think I kinda wanna get drunk too, honestly,” Dean tells him.

Santa snorts. “Don’t blame you. This is why I don’t talk to people, see. You humans have this weird image of me and it does not jibe at all with my thing.”

“Your thing?” Sam asks.

“Vodka,” Santa answers bluntly. “Lots and lots of vodka. And weed. All the weed.”

“I… see,” Sam says, looking like he can’t figure out how to process all of this. Dean can’t really blame him.

“Yeah, little kids probably don’t wanna find out Santa needs AA,” he comments.

“Pfft, I’m good,” says Santa. “Anyway, I better get going now. Since you two have not been entirely useless, I guess I’ll give you guys a little souvenir.”

“We get presents? Sweet!” Dean grins.

“What kind of souvenir?” Sam asks, ever practical and wet-blankety.

Santa reaches into the backseat, plunges his arm into the sack – “You bite me again I’ll rip your face off, Krampus you fugly sumbitch!” – and withdraws it a few seconds later with two small boxes in the palm of his hand. There are bite marks in his forearm, which Sam stares at, while Dean focuses on the boxes.

“What are those?”

Santa tosses them in his direction, and he catches them. “See for yourself.” With that, he ties the sack closed again and then gets in the front. “Right, I’ll be going then. My weed and booze awaits. Come on, Rudolph, get going, boy, I don’t got all year!”

And with that, he’s off. Sam and Dean watch him leave, both of them staring at the sleigh literally takes off and flies into the sky, until it’s barely a speck against the moon.

“What the fuck just happened?” Dean asks once Santa’s gone.

“We got upstaged on a hunt by Santa Claus,” Sam answers, sounding a little dazed. “And then he gave us presents.”

“Oh yeah, lemme check these out.” Dean puts one of the boxes down on the trunk of the Impala and then begins unwrapping the other. There is a smaller velvet box inside, and Dean’s heart almost stops when he sees it. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Sam asks, crowding in for a closer look.

“I think Santa gave me a ring,” Dean says, and then realizes that this is probably the weirdest thing he’s ever said out loud.

“A ring?” Sam repeats, and then grabs the other box. “Why would Santa– oh. Mine’s a ring too. What are we supposed to do with these?”

Dean’s taken the ring out of his box and is examining it in the dim moonlight. It seems to be made out of silver, plain except for a carving on the inside. “It’s got my initials on it,” he tells Sam, squinting at the D.W. on the inside, exactly like the carving in the Impala and on the bunker table.

“Yeah, mine too,” Sam tells him. “I don’t understand, though.”

“I–” Dean stops short as something clicks in his brain. “Wait. No way.”

“What?” Sam asks. “What is it?”

“Dude, I think Santa wants us to get married,” Dean says, and looks up to see Sam’s expression of disbelief. “No, really!” he insists. “I mean, why else would he give us matching rings with our initials on them?”

“Why does it matter to Santa if we’re married?” Sam asks, brow furrowed.

“Who cares?” Dean asks, shrugging. “I mean, it’s not a bad idea!”

“You want to get married?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, it’d be cool,” Dean says, trying to appear unaffected. But the truth is, it’s something he’s always wanted for himself, something he’s always wanted with Sam, hard physical proof of how much they mean to each other. And now that it’s literally in his hands, he can’t do anything to squash the rapidly-growing seed of yearning in his chest. He wants Sam to say yes, he really does.

“You want to get married because it’d be cool?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I’m saying?”

Sam looks indignant, opening his mouth to retort, but then Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam shuts his mouth again. “You know what?” he says a second later. “Let’s do it.”

“Wait, seriously?” Dean asks, not sure if he’s heard Sam right.

Sam nods. “Yeah, why not?” He’s trying and failing to look casual, and it occurs to Dean that he probably wants this just as badly and irrationally as Dean does.

Then again, nothing about the two of them has ever really been logical, has it?

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says. “Sure. I’m not getting down on one knee, though,” he adds. “It’s cold as shit and I’m not getting my knees in the snow, okay?”

Sam laughs, cheeks and nose pink in the December air. “Yeah, wasn’t expecting you to,” he says. “Look, let’s just–” He grabs Dean’s hand, and slides the ring on.

“Oh. Okay, yeah, I can do that,” Dean says, and takes Sam’s hand, reciprocating the action.

The rings fit perfectly – of course they do – and for a moment both of them are completely quiet, looking down at their hands and then each other’s. It looks like the rings have always been there, Sam’s initials on Dean’s hand, Dean’s on Sam’s, and – Dean lets out a slightly hysterical laugh – real, physical proof.

“So that’s it? We’re married?” Sam asks.

“Well, not like we can get a priest and do the whole church thing,” Dean points out. “And we’ve always done things our own way. Why should this be any different?”

Sam smiles at that. “Yeah, okay, makes sense.”

“I still want my kiss, though,” Dean adds. “And we should totally consummate the marriage.”

“Somewhere warm,” Sam replies, cheeks reddening further as he flushes.

“Yeah, of course,” Dean says with an eye roll, and then grabs Sam’s face in both hands and brings him in for a searing kiss.

That’s just how their lives are, he thinks as he puts his arms around Sam and lets Sam melt into him. They watch Santa beat the everliving shit out of Krampus, and then they impulsively get gay-incest-married in a snowy motel parking lot.

Dean wouldn’t change it for the world.

—

hi there! i really hope you enjoyed the story in all its cracky glory, and i can’t wait to give you more presents! merry christmas, and i hope you had a lovely one <3

–wincestmas anon

***

Oh my goodness! I got a fight, Santa crack and a wedding. You are TOO good to me, anon! ❤️ Thank you for putting in all this work. I find fight scenes SO hard to write, but you’re so good at them! I love it!

This made me LOL: “Vodka,” Santa answers bluntly. “Lots and lots of vodka. And weed. All the weed.”

Same, Santa. Same.

#wincestmas #wincest fic #that good crack #sam and dean get a front row seat to santa vs. krampus #12daysofwincestmas #submission

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im-not-a-satanist-i-swear · 5 years

Text

How (Not) To Catch A Deer

Chapter 1: How Could Anyone Look At That Face And Be Okay?

Notes: This isn't exactly a slow burn, but it's not one of those 'Hey let's fuck, oh by the way, I don't know your name' ones either. The hardest part about this was probably choosing the chapter title, because I came up with a bunch and had trouble picking. If anyone's even reading this, I'll add the alternate titles I came up with in the notes at the end of this chapter, and lemme know which one you liked best. Check me out on Wattpad @ninjapickles49 Thanks, and enjoy.

Wade wasn't addicted.

That was the one thing he was sure of because, firstly, his healing factor prevented him from getting addicted to anything. And second, he would never let himself want something he couldn't have—

[Liar.]

—no matter what White said. It was unprofessional.

He wasn't addicted.

And yet, here he was, for some reason, on the subway for the millionth time, going somewhere he didn't need to go for the millionth time. Hiding his face in the shadow of his hood, trying not to bump into strangers for the millionth time. Attempting to swallow his anxiety and the creeping feeling of claustrophobia for the millionth time.

All so he could stand there and watch—

[Stalk, you mean.]

{Admire!}

—the figure on the other end of the subway car.

Wade had lost count of how many days or weeks it had been. It probably wasn't that many, but it seemed like he had been coming here forever. Getting on the subway every morning of every weekday, sitting or standing on the opposite end of where the object of his obsession always sat. Trying to stifle his slowly building panic as more and more people crowded on, headed to their jobs. Then came the moment of relief, the deep calming sigh Wade always released as soon as he was the familiar mop of hair and scuffed satchel. He remembered the first time he had seen that satchel and hair, unusually clearly.

Wade getting on the subway that day had been a complete random choice. He had realized—quite suddenly—that after all the time he'd spent in New York, he had never seen the Statue of Liberty. Not up close. It was a split-second decision to hop on a subway that went across the city; he didn't have any plans that day. And for once he thought it'd better to go in his civilian clothes.

He would draw less attention that way, melding into the crowd of people; almost like he was one of them.

[Almost.]

And it was less likely that he'd be attacked, threatened, or banned from the place that way. Some people didn't respond well to a large, loud man in a red leather suit and mask, even if he left most of his weapons at home.

So there he was, standing in the corner of the subway car, keeping his head down, face hidden under the hood except to glance around and make a mental note of the people getting on and off and how many there were.

White was lecturing him about being stupid while Yellow sang Crazy Train very off-key and the people around him were talking as they filed in from the station. Wade was inching away from people that got too close, beginning to think this was a bad idea without his suit, and a few seconds from bolting out the doors—Statue of Liberty be damned—when his gave happened to land on one of the people shuffling in and Wade's whole world stopped.

His panic fizzled out, the babble of voices around him fading to a distant hum. Even the boxes grew quiet as they tried to figure out what had captured his attention while Wade's eyes remained glued to the figure who had just sat down on the other end of the car.

Yellow just let out a small gasp. {Oh my god...}

White just sighed. [Oh no.]

Wade just stared. Holy fuck.

Shaggy brown hair—thoroughly ruffled on the top, like fingers were dragged through it a lot—hung down into chocolate-colored doe eyes that seemed almost too big for the narrow pale face. The cute upturned nose, red at the tip, the full lips, and sharp jawline only made it that much more stunning. And to top it all off, the beautiful eyes were framed by black glasses; the modern thick plastic kind that Wade didn't even know he liked that much until now.

{Guess we can add glasses to the kink list.}

The guy was...

{Absolutely fucking adorable?! A hipster Adonis?! Our future husband?!}

[Way out of your league, not to mention almost definitely straight,] White snorted.

That had wiped the breathless smile off of Wade's face. He knew, of course, the White was right. He already knew that; he didn't need to be reminded.

{Yeah, don't ruin this, White. We can dream!}

[That's all it is though: a dream. And when you're forced, eventually, to return to the real world, the reality of your situation will hurt more. Dreams are for children.]

Wade felt his mood dropping even as he continued to watch the gorgeous guy.

{Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time? Now he's sad again, and so am I!}

"I'm fine, Yellow," Wade muttered. "White's right anyway."

{No, he's not! Dreams are the only reason we're—well, you're alive. I think White lost his, along with his soul and sense of humor...}

[I never had a soul to begin with, you idiot. Neither of us have one; we're not even technically alive, so you have nothing to dream about.] White was obviously getting irritated; his comments biting deeper.

{But Wade does,} Yellow insisted. {And our life kinda sucks anyway, so let him dream... for all of us.}

"Who are you and what have you done with Yellow?" Wade had just enough presence of mind to turn to the wall as he spoke, hiding his face and hopefully muffling his voice.

{What?}

"When did you get so deep?"

There was a low snicker. {Well, I have been stretching myself out—}

[And he's back,] White interrupted tiredly over the sound of Yellow cackling.

The sound of the subway slowing down brought Wade out of his thoughts with a jolt and he glanced at where the adorable stranger had been sitting, panicking when he realized he was no longer there. He scanned the small crowd of people leaving the car—using his height to his advantage—and breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the guy.

He was hard to spot; he wasn't very tall—

{Size difference! One of my kinks!}

[Shut up. Don't encourage him.]

—and Wade strained to get a last glimpse of that face and those eyes, knowing he'd almost definitely never see the guy again. And when the doors slid shut behind the slim figure, Wade felt something drop in his chest as a foreign feeling curled through his body, warm and painful all at the same time. But he couldn't figure out if the emotion meant something was ending... or just beginning.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a haze of faces and emotions, the boxes lecturing and encouraging over each other, getting louder and louder until Wade's head hurt.

He didn't go to see the Statue of Liberty. But that was the only place he was sure he didn't wind up in, because he spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar streets and neighborhoods, his mind a whirlwind. He didn't even know where all he went, hands in pockets, face hidden under his trusty hood as he tried to figure out how the hell a random—albeit very attractive—stranger, who hadn't even looked at or talked to him, had managed to get under his skin so fast.

By the time the sun was going down, he was no less confused, and was lucky to even find his way back to the subway station. If anything, he felt even more muddled, but now he just had a headache as well.

He got into the same car as last time, hating himself for even glancing hopefully at the seat the stranger had occupied as he made his way to the corner once more.

The next couple stops were spent staring into space, zoned out, muttering to White and Yellow, and clutching his head when they got really loud. And even though it was stupid—which White very helpfully reminded him of—he still paid attention when the subway stopped at the station the guy had gotten off at.

{Maybe he takes the same one home?} Yellow sounded hopeful.

[Even if he does, the chances of him getting on here the same time as we're here is very small. Look around; it's late. The mass majority of sheep went home hours ago. Either way, you're not gonna see—]

Yellow cut him off, letting out a squeal so loud and shrill, Wade had to resist the urge to double over or hit his head on something. {OMIGOD HE'S HERE.}

[Are you shitting me?]

Wade stared, shocked, as the beautiful stranger from that morning shuffled into the car, looking considerably more exhausted, but still just as gorgeous as Wade remember. Better, even.

{Did we just call a guy gorgeous and beautiful in the same sentence? That's gay,} Yellow giggled, sounding giddy.

[No, it's fucking stupid is what it is,] White snapped.

{Shut up, White! He's back and even you can't ruin the mood!}

White and Yellow started going at it once more, but Wade did his best to ignore them, fixing his attention on the guy. If this was all he could have, that was okay; it was all he deserved, but he was going to at least enjoy it. There were only a few other people in the car, and Wade shrunk into his corner a bit more, feeling exposed. If the stranger looked up, he'd see him.

But that didn't stop Wade from watching him the entire way back. He didn't even know why, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the guy.

And when the train stopped and Gorgeous Stranger Guy stood up, looking like he could drop on the spot, Wade felt a sense of dread wash over him. This was it, the last time he would ever see this random adorable person who somehow made his stomach feel weird and he hadn't even spoken to him. The doors slid closed, sealing his misery as he watched the slim figure leaving.

{But...} Yellow sounded thoughtful.

[There's a first time for everything, I guess,] White snarked. [Yellow's never thought before.]

{What if you could?} Yellow finished, ignoring White, sounding sly and tempting and way too fucking pleased with himself as Wade's heart leapt.

What if he could?

* * *

So here we are, back in the present, where Wade was spending—

[Wasting.]

—another day on the subway, just to watch the guy he had become so—

[Obsessed with.]

—interested in.

There was just something about him—not just his looks—that fascinated Wade.

He was always polite, giving up his seat if someone needed it, and apologizing to people if they bumped into him, or knocked one of the books that he always seemed to reading out of his hands. Wade had the very strong urge to take a swing at them, then make them apologize, but he never realistically, he couldn't. He just had to grit his teeth every time it happened and Adorable Stranger Guy just smiled and apologized.

But sometimes, when the guy thought he was alone in the crowd, unobserved and unnoticed, his polite mask would slip, a flicker of emotion crossing his face that he usually quickly stifled soon after. It happened mostly at night, when he was tired, and their were few people on the subway, all lost in their own worlds—except Wade, who wanted to do something every time he saw that emotion in the guy's eyes. Because he knew feeling better than any other, recognized it from the rare times he looked in the mirror without his mask; felt it nearly every second of every day.

It was loneliness.

And he knew how much it hurt; how it settled in your bones, tightened around your throat. Curled through your body, leaving a trail of ice in its wake until you felt like you'd never be warm again.

It was almost enough for Wade to go talk to the guy, but something—usually White—always seemed to stop him. Just because someone was lonely did not mean they needed Wade Wilson in their life.

[They'd be better off alone than with you.]

{Shut up, he's already brooding; you don't need to make it worse.}

And there were other things as well. Adorable Stranger Guy was always exhausted, even in the morning, leading Wade to believe this was not his only job. And he obviously wasn't very well off, if the neat but threadbare clothes, tattered Vans, and scuffed up satchel were anything to go by. And Wade was pretty sure in the first week or so of his subway rides, he'd already seen the full rotation of the guy's wardrobe.

The guy—

*insert record scratch noise here*

{Okay, we can't just keep calling him 'the guy' or 'the stranger' or even 'Adorable Stranger Guy'. The readers will eventually get pissed if we don't come up with something better, and they'll leave!}

[Wade is such dumbass in this story, I don't doubt they'll leave anyway. Can you say 'BAD WRITING'?]

{Come on, White, help!}

[Shorty, Bedhead, Ragtag, Urchin, Andrew Garfield Wannabe...]

{OOH OOH I GOT ONE I GOT ONE! Okay, here we go.}

*insert whatever the fuck the opposite of a record scratch sound is*

The guy—Wade had taken to calling him Bambi in his head, based on his eyes; he couldn't call him 'the guy' forever, that would be boring—

[Nice save, Yellow.]

—always seemed perpetually hungry, the signs also recognized by Wade who remembered the feeling all too well. He was tempted to just give the guy some food, or leave it on his chair or something, but he knew logically that wouldn't go over well. For one, he'd have to explain himself—meaning he'd have to talk to Bambi—and there'd be questions. And Wade didn't want him to think he was a charity case; he seemed like the type who would get offended by that. And Bambi didn't seem dangerously underweight; despite the small frame and narrow build, Wade caught glimpses of lean muscles and toned arms under the baggy clothes and oversized hoodies.

{He's still hungry though. Can we just take him home and feed him or something?}

[That's kidnapping.]

{Nothing we haven't done before,} Yellow muttered sulkily.

"Hey, hey, bastard pedophiles don't count," Wade muttered.

[The answer is still no. Why are we even still here?]

{Because WaAaaAAAdde's in looOOOoooOOve!} White giggled, his mood changing abruptly like it always did.

[Bullshit. This isn't love. This doesn't even qualify as a crush. It's not even anything remotely romantic. You're lonely and bored and looking for something to focus your attention and time on; to obsess over.]

{No, this is different...}

[No, it's not. That's my point. And I wouldn't expect you to be able to tell the difference even if there was one. You're so desperate for attention and affection that you've deluded yourself.]

Yellow didn't reply.

Wade wasn't sure if White's biting remarks were directed toward Yellow or himself, but it didn't matter; he was right either way. He sighed, glancing toward the quiet beauty with his nose in a book as usual, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Wade wondered absently what he was reading right then.

"You're probably right, White, but... just let me have this. Please."

White was silent for a long moment, before sighing heavily. [Go ahead. Waste your time pining after something you can never have. I can't stop you, but... I also sure as hell won't help you break your own heart. Not again.]

Wade didn't say anything else, fixing his eyes on Bambi once more. He wasn't sure whether to thank White or curse him, so he remained silent. All the way home.

* * *

[We can't keep this up forever.]

{Why the hell not? We don't have a life.}

[Wade, what are you going to do on the day he doesn't get on this subway?]

{Why would he stop?} Yellow sounded confused, and a little frightened by the idea.

[What if he moves? Gets a car? Quits his job? Life changes. People change. You're the only one who doesn't.]

"What happened to keeping your non-existent nose out of it?" Wade mumbled, watching as—for the millionth time—Bambi got on and plopped down, looking even worse for wear than usual.

[I said I wouldn't help you break your own heart.]

{Yeah, we remember; that was only like, nine paragraphs ago. So why are you back to being an ass?}

[I'm trying to save him—and you—from your own stupidity... again. This happens every time; it's a cycle. You—Wade—find someone, get obsessed, then rejected, then heartbroken, until you die enough times to finally move on. And it repeats. It's stupid, not to mention unhealthy.]

{But... what if this is where it stops?} Yellow sounded sickeningly hopeful.

[Yes—] White's every word dripped with sarcasm [—I'm sure this very attractive man who probably has a line of people throwing themselves at him—if he's not already in a relationship—will see your face and fall instantly in love with you... Grow up, Yellow.]

There was a very long silence filled with hurt and awkwardness that Wade did his best to ignore while he watched the people stream in—much more than usual—all on their way to their mundane jobs, where they got a mundane salary, and got to go home to their mundane suburban house and kiss their spouses and hug their kids...

Wade cut off that line of thought; it was too painful. Because as much as he wanted to pretend he didn't have a care in the world, and the thought of normal people and boring families made him ill... he secretly wanted it more than anything in the world. And the realization he could never have it, no matter how many lifetimes he lived, never hurt any less.

[We can't keep doing this, Wade,] White said finally, his tone gentler. [You said I was right. You know I'm right. This only ever ends one way.]

{No, don't listen to him! He has no heart—}

[This needs to be the last day. You can have this, but after today, it needs to be done.]

Wade heard a shocked gasp, and he honestly wasn't sure if it was him or Yellow.

"Why?" he whispered. "We—we're not hurting anyone."

[You're hurting yourself, and Yellow, by continuing this.]

{Ya know what?!} Yellow bellowed suddenly, causing Wade to flinch. {Screw you, White! You never shut up until you ruin everything and he does exactly what you want! I never to get to decide anything! So, if today's our last day, we're doing it my way!}

[What did you have in mind?] White asked dryly, not sounding as if he cared much.

{Go sit next to him.} Yellow sounded triumphant.

"What?" Wade froze, anxiety creeping through him at just the thought. He glanced over at the empty seat next to Bambi, who was reading, as usual.

{This is the last time we're ever going to see him,} Yellow said mournfully, {and you don't even know his real name. You're gonna regret it forever if you never get the chance to talk to him.}

"No, I don't... I can't..."

{GO SIT NEXT TO HIM OR I SWEAR I WILL SING BABY SHARK ON REPEAT FOR THE NEXT MONTH!}

[Oh... god no. Wade, just do it. I will not listen to that song ever again.]

"Have you guys lost your minds?" Wade hissed, looking the other way quickly as several people glanced his way.

{I'll do it, I swear on... chimichangas and tacos... and katanas!}

[Wade, if it comes down to it, I'm going to make you kill us until I can finally die and be rid of you or until he stops. Just do it, for fuck's sake; you're never gonna see the guy again.]

{Do it!}

[Do it.]

Well, fuck.

The boxes very rarely ever agreed on anything, and the few times they did, that meant it was important enough and Wade needed to listen. If they ever agreed against him, it meant he was wrong. If they ever had the same advice or answer, Wade always listened.

He was so used to doing it, the next thing he knew, he was crossing the subway car on shaky legs, closer and closer to the beautiful Bambi until—it felt like years, decades later—he sank into the seat next to the guy.

Once he got there, he came very quickly to the conclusion that White and Yellow were absolute idiots and what did he just do? He couldn't leave now, if Bambi noticed, he'd think Wade was being rude. And besides, it'd attract more attention to leave the seat for the corner now.

So, breathing shallow and heart beating faster than normal, he turned his head slowly under the hood, until he could just peek at Bambi. And he wasn't sure if the breath he released was one of relief or vague irritation when he saw the earbuds in Bambi's ears.

{Are you kidding me?! We came all this ass way—and he has earbuds in?}

[This is good. Now we don't have to try to make conversation, and he may not even notice your face, Wade.]

Wade's social anxiety and loneliness warred inside him as he took quick peeks at Bambi, until he wasn't sure if he wanted to yank the guy's earbuds out and introduce himself, or get off at the next station just to be able to get away from the crowds and people so he could calm down.

[I vote for the latter. This is getting ridiculous.]

{It's your last chance to talk to him!}

"What am I gonna do, tap him on the shoulder just to say hello? Earbuds are the universal 'leave me alone' sign," Wade murmured, barely audible even to himself.

[Not to mention probably traumatizing him when he sees your face.]

{It's not bad today. Less Deadpool suit means more good skin days.}

[Yay. So we've gone from open sores to just regular mangled-looking avocado skin. Such an improvement.]

{Maybe... he won't mind? Bambi seems like the type of person who wouldn't care about—}

[Now you're really grasping. How could anyone look at that face and be okay? It doesn't matter if he's a literal angel; you have the face of a demon. You have a face not even a mother could love.]

{You said... you said you'd let us have this.} Yellow's voice was small.

[Well, this is why you're a comedy relief character who doesn't make any important choices. Wade, either talk to him or leave. But you'd better make up your mind soon; his stop's coming.]

That jerked Wade out of his head and he glanced up to see the subway just starting to slow down.

Fuck.

{TALK TO HIM!}

[It's too late now.]

Wade sunk lower in his seat, misery already beginning to seep through him as he waited for Bambi to stand up and join the crowd waiting for the doors to open.

[Like sheep.]

When a minute had passed and Bambi still hadn't moved, Wade turned his head a tiny bit to glance at him.

{Awww...}

The guy still had his book open, but he was slumped forward slightly, eyes gradually drifting shut as his fingers started to loosen around the book.

[He's going to miss his stop.]

{Now you have an excuse!}

[Whatever gets us out of here quicker.]

{Just poke him or nudge him or something! Anyone would do it!}

"What if he finds it weird I know where he gets off?"

[You're on here every day; you don't have to lie about that. And he has no idea he's the one you're stalking, so just tell him you're observant.]

{Hurry up, the subway stopped!}

[I refuse to listen to Baby Shark; just do it.]

Wade reached over hesitantly, breath caught in his throat. His fingers hovered for a moment, trembling, before he took a deep breath and shook the guy very gently—although you wouldn't have known it by Bambi's reaction.

Brown eyes snapped open as he jumped in his seat, breathing hard as his gaze darted around, finally settling on Wade, who was frozen, arm still outstretched, heart racing. Wade kept his head down, hidden in the shadow of his hood, hoping it'd be enough.

He could feel Bambi staring at him, confused but expectant.

"Sorry, but isn't this your stop?" Wade asked in a low voice, hating how rough his voice sounded. He cleared his throat quietly, daring to glance up as the guy looked around, at the people starting to file slowly out.

"Uh, yeah, it is, actually. Wow, thanks... how'd you know?"

{Don't mess this up.} Yellow sounded ecstatic, but nervous.

"I'm... I'm on here pretty much every day. I just payed attention..." Wade trailed off.

"Oh yeah, I think I've seen you on here before, once or twice."

{Omigod HE NOTICED US}

"Thank you so much though, seriously; I would have completely missed it." Bambi stood up. There as a short silence which made Wade think for a moment he had left. Then a hand appeared in front of his face, startling him into looking up.

Bambi was right in front of him, and as Wade tilted his head up, he felt the light hit his face.

Shit.

He was about to duck back into hiding but stopped, surprised beyond words when he realized Bambi was still smiling gratefully, arm outstretched towards him. His bright gaze flickered briefly across Wade's face, probably watching the shifting scars, but if he was disgusted, he didn't show it. Wade, stunned by his reaction—or lack thereof—found himself reaching for and shaking the slender hand with long delicate, but chilly fingers.

"I'm Peter," Bambi said softly, his eyes glowing softly, like melting chocolate. He was still looking at Wade like Wade was a completely normal person and not a walking disaster, and he didn't know what to think.

"Wade," he heard himself breathe out, still captivated by that face, too shocked to do anything but stare when Bam—Peter shouldered his beat up satchel and smiled that beautiful soft smile again. "Thanks again; it was nice to meet you. Guess I'll see you around, Wade."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wade—and the boxes—reeling.

White recovered first. [What the fuck.]

{That was actually... omigod, my heart's racing.}

"You don't have one," Wade replied absently, even as he reached up to feel his own thundering heartbeat.

[Okay... that was weird.] White sounded like he was trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. [But Wade, remember, we had a deal.]

{Even you can't ruin this, White. The Adonis talked to us and didn't even throw up or anything.}

"And now I know his name," Wade added, still feeling stunned. The adorable stranger on the subway, Bambi, who had actually talked to him and looked at him and didn't recoil from his face or skin... was Peter. It fit doe-eyes perfectly.

He smiled to himself, tuning out the beginning of White's lecture as best he could.

Peter.

Notes: I'm kinda proud of the title, but I was afraid nobody would get it, so I'm gonna explain it. So White tells Wade his face is hideous and Wade thinks Peter has the most beautiful face, so the title could mean good or bad... it could be White talking to Wade or Wade talking about Peter. I just liked how it would work either way. But if nobody else got it, then sorry. And I'm also a little worried because the title sounds like it's to a super angsty story and I haven't gotten that far yet. Okay, I'll stop talking now; here are the alternate titles:

Bambi (Then the next chapter would be Peter, and the one after that would be Spider-Man)

How Many Times Can I Say 'Subway' In This Chapter?

Stalking a Deer

How (Not) To Catch a Deer

White's a DICK (who let Yellow title this one?!) (I really liked this one too tbh)

#spideypool #fluff #gay #peterparker #spiderman #wadewilson #deadpool #fanfiction #fanfic #the next chapter will be better i promise

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theabominableblogger · 4 years

Text

Rewatching “Crimson Peak”

Discussing this movie on the Gotham group chat with @ckatattack and decided “Eff it, Imma watch it again.”

Lez go!

“Rent movie for $3.99″ absolutely

Holy crap, I forgot about this opening lullaby during the logo. Holy shit.

For some reason, the bloody Edith in the opening shot really looks like something the girl behind MadeYewLook should do. Other Alexis, hear me out!

These colors (in young Edith’s bedroom)!

*flinches when the first ghost puts her hand on Young Edith’s shoulder*

You ever had someone put their hand on your shoulder when you’re like seconds away from falling asleep? Scariest shit ever.

*silently jams out to the music when Edith is traveling to the publisher*

I freaking LOVE Edith’s yellow dress in this movie. The puffy shoulders, the black under dress, the straw hat, love it.

“Actually, Mrs. McMichael, I would prefer Mary Shelley. She died a widow.” *z snaps*

“The ghost is just a metaphor. For the past.” Boom there’s the whole movie.

“He told me it needed a love story. Can you believe that?” AGAIN-

Also holy shit, Bobby from Supernatural is Edith’s dad!

For a second, I thought this typing house looked like a science fair.

AND THERE HE [Tom HIddleston] ISSSS!!

I’m sorry, I’m just smiling... so hard at this [Edith and Thomas’s first scene together]

Listen, if we get a scene in the Loki TV show where we see him in an outfit very close to the one he wears in this movie, I will... die. That’s it. I’ll just die.

The aesthetics for most of Guillermo del Toro’s movies are wonderful. The like 95% period accurate clothing, the yellow lighting, the red and green wallpapers OH MY GOD I JUST NOTICED THE RED AND GREEN

*The door knob starts creaking* Oh boy

That shot of Edith’s face in half shadow when she’s about ready to close the door but she sees the ghost of her mother? Good stuff.

*Thomas waits near the staircase* OH SNAP HE LOOK GOOD

OHHHHHHH THAT TRANSITIONNNNN [from the staircase to the ballroom]!!

I also love the detail that Lucille’s dress is ten years too old for her because she is still stuck in the past when it comes to life.

*grins like an idiot when Thomas offers the candle to Edith*

There are so many people gasping in this scene

I wonder if they actually did try to do the waltz with the actual candle lit for filming or did they do some VFX to make it look like it was lit the whole time? Part of me thinks that that flame’s real but I don’t know.

Where have I seen the guy who plays the investigator before?

“The man that just left, among other ailments, is colorblind....only the majority around him does. Now that man will never perceive the colors red or green. He only accepts their existence because the majority around him does.” “Perhaps we only notice things when the time comes for us to see them.” OH MY GOD ALL THE RED AND GREEN IN EDITH’S HOME

Charlie Hunnam’s Britsh accent slipped in when he said “understand”

Also I want this man to play Green Arrow in the DCEU

Did she [Lucille] just rub the dead butterfly on her face?

*Close of ants feeding on dead butterfly* Thanks, that was needed.

*Thomas reveals the ring he was going to give Edith* BOY YOU KNEW HER FOR LIKE A THREE DAYS AND A NIGHT

Were those all the previous marriage certificates?

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unexpected announcement. Sir Thomas?” *sinks down in seat and hisses nervously*

*is extremely uncomfortable when Thomas has to insult Edith’s novel in front of her*

*Edith slaps Thomas* Well he took that pretty well.

*Lucille in the doorway of the dining room* You know what, eff you.

*jaw drops in horror when someone smashes Mr. Cushing’s face in the sink repeatedly, killing him*

I love that Edith is still in her nightgown and she still has bed head (of a sorts) and yet she ran to the hotel, just throwing on a coat and leaving her reading glasses on.

*slams hands on laptop* THESE. TRANSITIONS.

I FORGOT ABOUT THE PUPPER!

BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE GREEN WALLPAPER, SET DESIGNERS!

I’m sorry, was that a slight kiss mark on Edith’s chin? Did I see that right?

Boy, you be hugging your sister for way too long...

*Lucille refuses to give Edith a copy of the keys* Electric chair.

“You chose her. Why?” BECAUSE HE LOVES HER YOU BITCH

*One of the ghosts sneaks up on Edith in the bathroom* We see you, @actordougjones!! I see you!!

*Thomas loudly stirs Edith’s tea for her* I’m suddenly flashing back to the tea cup from “Get Out”

So would the Sunken Place for this scenario just be completely red from the red clay? Thoughts to think about.

Wait, how long is Mia Wasikowska’s hair? Is that all real? Jeez! The last time I had hair down to my butt was in elementary school.

“Mother.” Oo woo oo...

Look, I’ve already seen this movie, but I already want Lucille to shut the hell up.

I’m sorry, was that a porn book Lucille just showed Edith?

Well damn they replaced that sink real quick!

*Thomas watches Edith as she watches one of his contraptions* S T O P

Mr. del Toro, you have been reading my list of favorite romantic tropes. Sir please-

*Edith and Thomas kiss passionately* OH... OHH...

*gestures in the air with frustration when Lucille enters the room*

GO AWAY

Can we start taking shots every time Edith starts wandering around the halls in her nightgown holding a candelabra in this movie?

GREEEEEENNNNNN...

*One of the ghosts starts crawling on the floor, moaning and wailing* Haha me

*to the tune of “Sugar We’re Going Down”* WE’RE GOING DOWN DOWN INTO THE RED CLAY BASEMENT! EDITH WE’RE GOING DOWN-

“My hands are getting rough. Your father would approve.” Why would I just realize that? Man, I’m getting slow.

The last time I watched this movie was in 2016. I watched the trailer back when I was a senior in high school. And I watched that trailer multiple times.

I love the ghost as the scarecrow

Girl, you are coughing up blood. You have been poisoned.

Edith back at it again wandering around at night! Take a shot!

This was a terrible decision for me to watch this at like midnight. Why did I do this?

OK, so which one of these ghosts is Javier Botet?

Oh my gosh, the chair Edith is in is bigger than last time because she’s being swallowed by the house.

AND ANOTHER TRANSITION!

“Sir Thomas is already married.” BUM BUM BUMMM!!

*has to look away as Thomas and Edith get it on*

Aaand there’s the English countryside right there. I’m gonna look back away now.

“Lucille, we’re back!” Lucille, you son of a bitch.

“You slept there? You two... alone...” Yeah, that’s what husband and wife do. They get together, sleep together, do a lot of things together. Jesus.

“I was so alone. I can’t be alone.” Lady, I just want you to shut the hell up.

OK, so now I forget what’s in the ES suitcase? Enola’s body? What’s up?

Oh, it’s just a suitcase full of other stuff. Never mind. I thought it was gonna be her body.

Lemme guess the ghost is gonna rise out of the red goo? Yep!

I’m getting a lot of callbacks to “The Shining” like with all the red and then the ghost with the ax in her head climbing out of the tub

Jessica Chastain’s accent keeps slipping. Am I the only one who’s noticed?

*laughing* Oh my God, again! Take a shot!

Oh my God they freaking swindled a lady in a wheelchair. Ohhhh my God...

WAIT I FORGOT THAT WAS ENOLA’S DOG!

“The poison... is in the tea!” Funnnnnnnnn....

Oh but of course she got snowed in.

“I [Lucille] tended Mother in this bed.” *so done*

STOP EFFING... SCRAPING THE TEA CUP GODDAMN

STOP IT

So is Lucille the older sibling? Oh yeah she is because she said she tended to their mom

*completely done with Lucille’s BS*

Whoever did the set design for Allerdale Hall, I want to send them flowers and my love

OK I know for a fact that that’s Doug Jones as the ghost of Enola

WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS SHIT

*quickly rips out earphones*

*cue a very long string of expletives and looking up and away from the screen*

EXCUSE ME HER [expletive] BACK IS BROKEN! SHE HAS LOST THE WILL TO WALK!

*singing* ALAAANNNN THE UNSUNG HE-ROOOOOO!!!

LUCILLE I WANT YOU *laughing* TO SHUT THE HELL UP

*gasps* WAIT SHE TOOK THE RING BACK FROM EDITH!

“I’m [Alan] here to take you [Edith] away.” *singing* They’re going to take me away, a ha, they’re going to take me away!

Wait he’s a doctor and he just yanks that sucker out of his arm pit? You’d think he’d be smarter than that.

OH MY GOD THEY KILLED THE DOG

*shakes head at the whole fiasco*

*ends up glaring at Lucille as she tosses Edith’s manuscript in the fire*

Edith, while she’s looking away, just freaking tear that... *mimes tearing motion*

Oh my God of course she [Lucille] has a drawer full of the victim’s hairs

“You told me you loved me!” “I do!” AGH

*Thomas throws the law papers in the fire* YAASSSS!!

*gasps when Lucille stabs Thomas*

*jaw drops in horror when Thomas just shanked IN THE FACE*

GOD AND YOU CAN HEAR THE BONE-

*Thomas dies* Jeeesus... that was a good death scene.

God the shot of Lucille running down the stairs from behind? Ugh! And with the flowing fabric behind her! Freaking gorgeous

*Edith goes down in the elevator* Bye bish

That is a huge freaking meat cleaver

Seeing Edith with her steak knife going up against Lucille reminds me of that freaking chainsaw fight from “Mandy” with Nicholas Cage

This final set piece!

*Edith goes up against Lucille with a shovel* MY NAME IS INIGO MONTOYA! YOU KILLED MY FATHER! PREPARE TO DIE!

*Ghost Thomas* Those prosthetics look amazing

*Ghost Thomas nuzzles against Edith’s hand before disappearing* God it’s the little movements. del Toro freaking GETS it

*nods when the end credits start*

#crimson peake #the blogger reacts #Guillermo Del Toro #jessica chastain #tom hiddleston #mia wasikowska #charlie hunnam #edith cushing #thomas sharpe #lucille sharpe #ckattack #doug jones

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