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thestoryweneededtowrite · 7 years

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Javid Titanic AU - Part 13

This was not meant to be done tonight but what do you know, it is.

I’d say this chapter is like a 12 rating, maybe. It’s not that explicit, but it’s as not-PG as this story gets.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Eventually turning back to kiss Jack started to give Davey a crick in his neck, and the sharp flare of pain brought some sense back to him. Whilst he had no desire to put an end to anything, they were somewhere that was incredibly public and increasingly uncomfortable. He wasn’t quite sure what would happen if another passenger or a crewmember found two men making out, but he figured it wasn’t worth the risk of finding out. Not when there was a far more attractive alternative.

Pushing Jack away just a little so he had space to climb down from the railings, Davey turned to face him.

“Come with me,” he requested, surprising himself with his confidence - he didn’t even have to phrase it as a question. “Anywhere,” Jack breathed, wrapping his arms back around Davey’s waist to pull him close for another kiss. He was completely drunk in love with this man and he would happily follow him to the end of the earth if it meant he got to kiss him and keep making him smile.

Davey grinned, giving in to the kiss in the knowledge that they were probably going to have to go without for a few minutes whilst they navigated their way through the ship.

“Somewhere with a door that locks,” he clarified, with an innocent smile – though he felt anything but.

Staring at him for a long moment, Jack tilted his head and tried to work out what Davey was insinuating. There was a lot they could do it a locked room, but there had to be a line somewhere and the sooner he knew where it was, the sooner he could manage his expectations. Still, anything Davey wanted to do was going to be worth it, so Jack nodded and let himself be led across the deck.

They dropped each other’s hand as soon as they heard voices, knowing that they were going to draw far less attention if they weren’t visibly together. Everything passed in a blur to Jack and he was glad Davey knew where they were going or he’d never remember the way from that morning. He was itching to grab Davey’s hand again or to push him against the nearest wall with a kiss but that wasn’t going to help them in their attempt to be subtle. Davey was giddy with the knowledge of what he’d just done and what he was going to be doing, and he was almost surprised he remembered his way around.

As soon as they got to the corridor that the cabins were off, Jack couldn’t help himself anymore. There was no one in sight so, taking the risk, he pulled Davey in for a brief kiss, catching him by surprise. Davey just blinked, a little taken aback, but not about to complain. There was a thrill that came with kissing Jack in public, he was fast learning, a shot of adrenaline to go with the rush of dopamine that kicked in. It felt like he’d downed a glass of wine too fast. Now he’d started kissing Jack, he was certain he’d never be able to stop.

Wanting to return the affection but knowing his room was only metres away, Davey took Jack’s hand and pulled him down the corridor. He fumbled in his pocket for the key, smiling when Jack’s hands found his waist again, and ungracefully fumbled with the lock mechanism until the door swung open. Once they were both inside he locked the door and left the key there so it couldn’t be unlocked from the other side. That click was the best sound he’d ever heard: no one was walking in on him this time.

When he turned around, Jack was watching him. He didn’t give a second thought to the opulent surroundings, he just couldn’t look away from the poor little rich boy who had turned his life upside down. Davey knew he was blushing – he couldn’t help it. Jack’s eyes were so honest and so open, and no one had ever looked at him like he was worth so much. Albert had been confusion and experiment and a little pent-up desire, but Jack? Jack was everything. Davey wasn’t confused anymore.

He crossed the room, snagging Jack’s hand as he passed, and sat down on the couch, pulling Jack down beside him.

“What – uh, what do you want?” Jack asked roughly, needing to clear his voice halfway through.

“Make me feel everything they say I shouldn’t,” Davey said. He didn’t need to elaborate, Jack got it.

Gently, Jack reached up and cupped Davey’s jaw, tracing over his cheek with his thumb. Then he replaced his palm with his lips, kissing a trail and shifting so his knees were up on the sofa and Davey’s weight was resting back against the cushions.

Kissing Davey was an experience. Jack started slow, hands tracing gentle shapes and lips barely brushing – because Davey was new to all this and he was trying to be respectful and courteous. Only then Davey would kiss back and bite at Jack’s bottom lip, and he managed to forget Davey hadn’t really done this before and things got rougher and deeper and hotter. Until Davey whimpered or gasped when Jack trailed a hand up his inner thigh or tugged too hard on his hair, and then Jack would remember who he was kissing and he’d slow things back down again, only for Davey to pull him closer, or guide his hand back to his thigh, and so the cycle repeated itself again and again. Jack was getting dizzy, and he needed a break for a moment.

“Still think I’m bad for ya?” he teased, leaning away to withhold another kiss until he got an answer.

Davey hummed for a long moment, unsure exactly what he believed now. “For my productivity and general sanity? Yes. For my public image and my relationship with my parents? Yes. For my soul?” he paused for dramatic effect, trying to maintain a blank face. He managed a couple of seconds before slipping into a smile. “You’ll do just fine.”

Jack grinned and leant down for another kiss, only to be stopped when Davey reached up a hand. He figured this was it. Davey had realised he’d had enough and was going to kick him out. He was biting his lip and looking guilty, so Jack figured it had to be that. Sighing and moving away, Jack resigned himself to grabbing his stuff and going back down to steerage. But then Davey grabbed his suspenders and stopped him going too far.

“Draw me. Like that boy,” he said, all in one breath like he was almost afraid of it.

He didn’t necessarily just want to be another one of the men in Jack’s sketchbook, just a face that Jack wouldn’t be able to put a name to in a year or so, but he wanted there to be something tangible to mark this. If they got to America and parted ways forever, he wanted to know that somewhere there was drawing of him that proved this all really happened.

Jack smirked, relaxing again. He knew exactly what boy, what sketch, Davey was referring to, but that wasn’t how it worked. To get a drawing like that, he needed the subject to be sated and drowsy and boneless.

“I’d need to sleep with you first,” he shrugged, certain it wasn’t going to happen.

“Yes,” Davey said, immediately.

Well, that changed things. Jack stared at him, shocked. Surely he wasn’t actually agreeing to the half-hearted proposition.

"Davey…?” he trailed off, laughing shakily. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He’d slept with plenty of people, but it had never felt as important as this.

“Yes,” Davey repeated, ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking and his cheeks were the reddest it was possible for them to be.

"You’re going to be the death of me,” Jack managed, completely thrown.

"Come here,” Davey smiled, climbing off the sofa and leading Jack through to his bedroom. Jack followed willingly, like he knew he always would.

Climbing back onto the bed without breaking eye contact, Davey stripped off his bowtie and waistcoat and undid the first couple of buttons of his shirt so Jack knew this was all okay. He was still in his clothes from dinner so it felt like there were far too many layers to take off, even if he had left his tailcoat behind at the table when he’d ran. Jack was happy to take over, finishing off the buttons and untucking Davey’s vest so he could splay his fingers out over his stomach and watch his breath hitch at the contact.

“Okay?” he whispered, needing to be sure.

Davey just nodded, reaching out to pull Jack’s suspenders down over his arms and frantically fiddling with the buttons on Jack’s tattered shirt. Laughing, Jack just pulled it over his head still half buttoned and tossed it to the side. He was still in a worn vest of his own but it was clearly the most undressed Davey had ever seen another man, from the way he wasn’t quite sure where to look.

“I… I don’t know how to…” Davey waved his hands vaguely, a little flustered.

“That’s alright. We can do this one step at a time?” Jack promised, kissing Davey gently when he got an enthusiastic nod in return. “You got any kinda oil?” he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

Davey blinked, convinced he’d heard wrong. “What for?” “I’m gonna cook with it,” Jack teased gently, bopping Davey on the nose and rolling his eyes. “What’d’ya think it’s for.” “Oh!” Davey gasped, as soon as it occurred to him. His face suddenly caught fire, warmth rushing to his cheeks to turn them scarlet. They needed something so they could do that. He couldn’t think in more specifics – he was afraid he might get too lightheaded if he tried. Besides, he wasn’t even quite sure how everything worked. “No,” he said sadly. Oil hadn’t been something he ever thought he’d need, so there went his chance to get his drawing added to Jack’s collection of sketches.

Smiling fondly at the disappointed expression on Davey’s face, Jack pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“That’s okay, there are plenty other ways for me to make ya feel good,” he promised, with every intention of making good on his word. He returned his hands to the bare skin under Davey’s vest and pushed upwards, planning on getting rid of all the remaining layers of clothing between them. Davey had no objections, not anymore.

***

They lay breathing in sync on the bed afterwards, neither wanting to break the comfortable silence first. Jack had no reservations about being naked, lying on top of the sheets and tracing Davey’s cheekbones with this thumb. Davey was shyer, tucking himself under the bedding and hiding just a little. He watched as Jack’s gaze turned from relaxed and loving to slightly more calculating. Just as Davey started to get worried, Jack rolled away. Reaching out to grab his arm, Davey whined in protest. He didn’t want this to ever end. If it did then he had to face his parents, and the longer he could put that off, the better.

Jack laughed, taking Davey’s hand from his arm and kissing the back of it like he’d done on the staircase. He reached down and pulled on his drawers.

“You wanted me to draw ya, remember? I gotta move for that,” he explained.

Davey pouted but Jack refused to be encouraged back to bed by those gorgeous blue eyes until he’d collected his sketching supplies from the sitting room. When he climbed back onto the bed with the paper and charcoal in hand he considered slipping back out of the underwear, but chances were Davey was going to be more comfortable if he kept them on.

Davey watched as Jack made sure the tip of his stick of charcoal was sharp enough and found an empty page in his sketchbook. He remembered that original drawing, the way it was scandalously indecent without actually showing anything, and he gingerly pushed down the bed sheet until it was bunched around his hips. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

“This okay?” he asked, his mouth dry.

“Perfect,” Jack nodded, staring. He didn’t just mean for the sketch.

Shaking himself out of his fixation, Jack started to trace out the outlines for the drawing, lightly shading the parts he knew he wanted to be in shadow. Davey tried to bear Jack’s eyes on him, so intently focused on the planes of his body, but eventually he started to shuffle uncomfortably. Sensing he needed a little encouragement, Jack pulled himself away from the sketch.

“Hey, hey, no. You ain’t gotta get embarrassed. You’re pretty, Dave. Real pretty,” he said, and he meant it.

Blushing and wishing he could pull the sheet right over his head and hide, Davey mumbled something that sounded vaguely like thank you and resolutely stared a hole into the wall behind Jack’s head.

“Look at me,” Jack coaxed, wanting to capture that expression in Davey’s eyes.

So Davey did, and he found that Artist Jack had given way to the Jack who had made him feel like the world had stopped turning, just for a second, and that was all he needed to take a deep breath and relax back against the bed, holding still so Jack could finish the drawing. It might have been held in the same sketchbook as the picture of the stranger Jack had slept with before, but Davey was pretty sure this was different. Jack was going to remember his name.

Part 14

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #javid #Jack Kelly #david jacobs #let's not talk about how strange my google search history looks okay #titanic au #unlucky number 13 #well not quite so unlucky for Davey #I wrote the second half of this listening to Bonnie and Clyde #so I'm surprised it isn't more violent tbh #although how it would end up violent I have no idea #also go listen to dyin' ain't so bad and imagine Davey singing it when they realise the ship is going down #like obviously that isn't going to happen #because Bonnie and Clyde was not written for about 100 #years after the Titanic #but just imagine #spoiler: it's sad

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youreyeslookliketheocean · 3 years

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youreyeslookliketheocean’s DSMP Fic Recs!!

Figured it was about time for one of these... :)

Mostly SBI-centric because they’re my favorite dynamic. I’ll probably add to this list as time goes on, and I also want to go back through my ao3 history and find some lesser-known fics I really enjoyed to rec them all. But for now...

* oneshot ** unfinished work

** the lights go out (my heart goes still) by curseworm

With his old home unwelcoming and his new one gone, Tommy is alone. After hours of staggering through the freezing snow, he finds a cabin.

Technoblade’s cabin.

He hides himself away in the deepest corner he can find, taking only what he needs to survive, wasting away in the cold and the dark. He’s petrified at the thought of being found out, terrified of what he thinks Techno would do to him.

When Techno finds his injured teenage brother huddled in a filthy little cave beneath his basement, the rage he feels is immeasurable. The voices demand blood, and blood he will give them. Dream won’t be getting away with this one.

(On the other side of the world, in a country that floats on a man-made lake, Philza gets himself in a bit of a pickle.)

** The hearth down under by Crystalquill

A tiny change gives Tommy the courage to flee to the Nether instead of the cold tundra, finding an unlikely ally in the midst of a fiery hellscape.

But tiny changes can alter the course of history. The SMP will never be the same.

(Lots of cool Nether worldbuilding in this one!!)

to be a wanderer, wandering by hydrangeasheart

Tommy's feet drag in the snow.

It's so, so cold. He's so cold. His toes are freezing. His exposed shins feel like they’ve been cut open-- even the one that’s bandaged. His wings have gone numb, which is almost, almost good, because now he can’t feel the shifting, broken bones inside of the left one, just under feathers and muscle.

He doesn’t know why he’s still walking.

Or, Tommy leaves the exploded ruins of Logstedshire behind, and walks until he finds somewhere safe.

And things keep going from there.

(A canon-divergent AU, splitting off somewhere around when Tommy started hiding out below Techno's house.)

that’s, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know (and then “as long as i’m here”, and “he’s my brother, i just raise him”)

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade.

passerine by thcscus(blujamas)

Do I really need to put the summary here? Pretty much everyone knows this fic. Also, though, if you enjoy this one you should totally read thcscus’ connected fic, “shrike”!! It’s only at 2 chapters right now but it’s already really good and has this dark, foresty aesthetic I love...

not with a bang but with a whimper by dip_dyed_ghost

He knows Tubbo doesn’t care about him anymore. He knows that. He’s been shown that. But it doesn’t stop Tommy from caring about him. He brushes the pads of his fingers over the compass’s glass and wonders how he’s doing, if he’s tired of it all yet, if he needs help. He watches the way it points strongly in the direction over the ocean. He hopes he’s alright.

Even after everything, he hopes he’s alright.

During his exile, Tommy finds a drugged and hurt Tubbo on his doorstep. He can’t not help him.

(This one has a neat take on potions, in my opinion. Also it’s only 4 chapters so it’s a quick read!)

take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon

Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a screwed up, forgotten kid lost in the foster system. He's also just been placed with a new family. Tommy knows how this goes, he never ends up staying long. After all, no one wants a fuck up like him.

Why would this house be any different?

Or: the obligatory sleepy bois foster fic, but with a focus on the neurodivergent kids that inevitably get lost in the system.

(Genuinely want to see more books like this in original fiction. It’s part of what inspired my newest og wip, “To Build a Home.” So sweet and I feel like I had my eyes opened to some neurodivergent tendencies I never knew existed. I read this in a day and can’t rec it enough.)

bloodlines by youreyeslookliketheocean

Tommy’s an orphan on the run from his previous guardian. Philza’s a king who prides himself on keeping his kingdom in an era of peace. Wilbur’s the crown prince, and Techno’s right beside him as his adopted brother. When Phil’s kingdom of Pogtopia is threatened by the bloodvines—a strange, brainwashing plant infecting many of the surrounding kingdoms—the four must work together to keep the kingdom, and their family, safe. --- A royal au sbi fic... + the bloodvines, for spice.

(Yes I’m self-promoting. But, in my defense, I’m very proud of it. If you checked it out it would mean the world to me :’))

Heat Waves by tbhyourelame

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

Another fic I think pretty much everyone knows about. Listen, listen... I was once an idiot who said “Oh no, I’ll never read Heat Waves. It’s irl, not characters, and it’s probably cringe”... No. I was so wrong. This fic is wonderfully written, with a pretty quick moving plot and great characterizations. You do need an ao3 account to access it, though. Just to let you know. (Also read “Helium”, unfinished and hasn’t updated in awhile, but it’s the continuation).

Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous

Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.

He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

Tommyinnit’s unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death by eneliii

“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.”

Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen?

“Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”

or,

in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.

or or,

a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.

(Feel like I am obligated to say how incredibly funny this fic is. Seriously. I have a distinct memory of sitting on my neighborhood park’s swing, giggling hysterically, while reading this. Well...until the end... but we won’t get into that...)

** bones in the ocean by bunflower

“Your reputation precedes you, y’know.”

“Does it, now?” Philza watches him coyly from where he’s now leaning against the wall, arms folded around his chains and gaze half-lidded, his lips curled in an arrogant, cat-like smirk.

“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?”

OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.

(Is this fic considered popular like passerine/Heat Waves now? Cause I feel like it’s reputation precedes itself, at this point... Pirate au.)

****

Okay! That’s it for now. Like I said, though, I want to add to this over time and also dig back for some older things I’ve read. Also, if you have any recs feel free to send them in! I’m about to go back to school and therefore might not have time for reading fun stuff, but whenever I get the chance I’d love to check them out!!!

Happy Reading!!

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hecatemoon87 · 2 years

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The Satin Noir Killer: An Eddie Brock Story

Chapter Five - Eddie's Ex

Note to the reader ** This storyline now merges an AU I’ve created - James Delaney - Private Eye. If you’re curious about James and Gabby - please read at your leisure!

The day after the party, Eddie and Katla were very confused by where the evidence of the case had led them. None of their previous assumptions added up to what Hector was saying, but Katla was now more insistent than ever to get in touch with the police. Eddie had come over to Katla’s apartment and they were typing out their notes and going over the recently uncovered information.

“Eddie, we need to involve the police. We at least need to have them to question Hector and include his interview in their case files,” Katla insisted.

“Um, yeah I mean I agree. But I’m still not sure they are going to listen to us,” Eddie said.

“How come? Let’s just call and see if we can talk with the Lead Detective on the case,” Katla said.

“Sure, sure,” Eddie said, nervously scratching the back of his head.

Katla saw that he was acting strangely and she sat up a little straighter on the couch and crossed her arms, glaring at Eddie.

“Eddie, what did you do?”

“Huh? Why does it always have to be because of me?”

Katla narrowed her eyes at him and waited for him to confess.

“Alright, alright…I kinda pissed off the Lead Detective,” Eddie said.

“How?!” Katla asked.

“Uh, I might have accused him of not doing his job,” Eddie replied, cringing a little as he knew Katla would not be happy.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You are incorrigible,” Katla scoffed.

“Hey, I’ve gotten better…with you at least, haven’t I?”

Katla couldn’t help but smile and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“Yes, you have. And you better keep it that way, buddy,” she added. “But you need to think of a way to get us back in good graces with the detective.”

Katla would have called herself, but unfortunately the police would want a press pass and they’ll even check if Katla was an actual journalist due to the case and the sensitive nature of the information. If she called, she’d have to tell them which company she worked for and that Lead Detective probably black listed their company because of Eddie.

Eddie sighed and nodded, knowing she was right.

“Well, let’s do a little research on him, shall we? Maybe I can dig something up on him,” Eddie said, typing the Lead Detective’s name into the google search engine.

“Eddie, you can’t black mail him into talking to you!” Katla said.

“Uh, I don’t think I need to black mail him….” Eddie said, trailing off.

“What?” Katla asked.

She watched Eddie’s face and he seemed a little shocked. She called his name and he still didn’t reply.

“What are you looking at?” She said, moving forward and yanking his laptop from his lap.

“Hey, wait!,” Eddie said, trying to grab back the laptop.

Katla saw an image of a very attractive couple on instagram. The comments under the photo said “we’re engaged!” and the user name was GabbyP30.

“Who are they? And who is GabbyP30?”

“Uh, well, I know her. And that guy, it’s the Lead Detective, James Delaney,” Eddie said.

“Oh my god, really? He’s hot,” she said, looking at the ruggedly handsome man in the image.

“What? No way, he’s an asshole,” Eddie complained, taking back his laptop.

“So, how do you know this GabbyP30 person?” Katla asked.

Eddie looked a little uncomfortable before replying.

“She…she’s my ex-girlfriend,” he said.

“Oh…are you okay? I mean I don’t know your history…but does it upset you that she's getting engaged?”

“Huh? You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad? You don’t still love her do you?”

“No, I mean…I did love her, but…it didn’t work out. We left on good terms though. But…god damn it, she’s marrying a dick,” Eddie said.

“Eddie, focus. If you know her and you’re on good terms, you can maybe get her to change Detective Delaney’s mind,” she said.

“I know…I don’t like the idea of using her though,” Eddie said.

“You didn’t mind stealing my story and not apologizing for months,” Katla said, suddenly feeling very hurt by his concern for this other woman.

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Hey, no. I care for you Kat, don’t feel that way. I’ll ask her, okay?”

He closed his computer and scooted over to her. He took her laptop from her and placed it on the coffee table. Taking her into his arms he kissed her gently. She kissed him in return and he slid his tongue into her mouth. He then pushed her back onto the couch and they had a mini make out session, with Eddie slowly dry humping her leg and kissing her neck.

“You wanna?” He whispered.

She did, but the case was too much on her mind. She really wanted Eddie to initiate contact with this Gabby person and get James Delaney to hear them out.

“After you call Gabby,” she said, pushing him up a little off of her.

“Come on, I’m hard as fuck,” he whined.

“Okay, fine, but right after you need to call her,” she insisted.

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Eddie said, pulling Katla off the couch and playfully picking her up and going to her bedroom.

He tossed her on the bed and she giggled as he pounced on her. After a much longer than intended, but thoroughly satisfying sex session, Katla grabbed Eddie’s phone and handed it to him. They were still naked in bed and Eddie rolled his eyes. He wasn’t really looking forward to talking with his ex on the phone while his new girlfriend was listening. He went to his contacts, found Gabby’s number and dialed.

“I doubt she’ll even pick…” Eddie began, but he heard the other side pick up.

“Gabriela,” a voice he hadn’t heard in over a year chipped into the phone.

Eddie was silent for a moment and Gabriela spoke again.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Hey, Gabby, this is…Eddie,” Eddie managed to say.

“Oh my god, Eddie! How are you? I haven’t heard from you in forever,” she said.

“I’m doing good, yeah…keeping busy. Um, so I was just giving you a call to see if you wanted to grab some lunch?”

“Sure, I can do that, are you free tomorrow?”

“I am. You want to meet around noon at Ray’s downtown, you remember?”

“Of course!”

“Okay, see ya then,” Eddie said.

“Yep, see you, bye!”

Eddie hung up the phone and looked over at Katla.

“There, done. Are you happy?” Eddie asked.

“No, not really. Just don’t fall back in love with her, because both James Delaney and I will kill you,” she said, taking the phone from Eddie’s hand and climbing on top of him for round two.

#eddie brock #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fan fic #eddie brock au

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clarawatson · 3 years

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It Only Takes A Taste (3)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded stuff, but I’m not sure where this is going as a larger work so we’ll say Fem!reader to be safe) Summary: Jack comes for dinner, I guess. W/C: 2345 Warnings: none yet! A/N: this one got a little long, oopsies. AO3 Where am I in this series? 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

The bed had been so warm and comfortable you hadn't wanted to get out, but the thought of seeing Aaron again made your heart grow three sizes. You'd been texting back and forth for the last couple of days, just small awkward stuff. He likes to text emojis. He's precious. Of course he's precious.

He comes in as you're serving your first customer of the night—a sobbing thirty-year-old man who can't even order his pie without spluttering in tears. Is it favouritism to get excited by Aaron turning up? Yes. Is it worth it? Yes.

"Hello," you smile. There's a hundred things you could have called him, but he's too cute and your brain doesn't want to work.

"Hi," he grins back. "Can I have a coffee, please. Here."

"Yes you can." Aaron splits his bill between the counter and the tip jar. "How was your day, Aaron?"

"Boring paperwork. Couldn't concentrate."

Concern furrows your eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"Huh? No! I kept thinking about seeing you." There's that sunshine smile again. You might even match it yourself. He points to the cake that's still in the display tin. He's in earlier in the night than usual, so there's a lot more range to choose from. "Is that carrot cake?"

"Sure is. Do you want some?"

"Please."

You serve him a slice and let the coffee machine splutter and fight with you. He stabs his cake with his fork and looks like he has an out of body experience the moment the cream cheese icing hits his tongue. That's a face you want to see again under different circumstances.

"Joe?"

"Me! And Joe's recipe. I sort of mixed it together and prayed."

"Then mark me a religious man." Aaron smiles. You can't held but smile back at him.

"It's a bit early for you to be in," you say. It's not an issue, just means you got the earlier shift. Finishing at 1am instead of 7am. Plus, Aaron looks nice in the daytime. Very nice. The afternoon light suits him.

"Didn't have a case," he shrugs.

You've googled him since getting his business card. “Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner, Section Chief of the BAU”. The fuck did that even mean? BAU was the Behavioural Analysis Unit, which was still mainly a mystery, but you think it’s maybe just an over-glorified way of saying ‘they look inside people’s heads and hope for the best’. He’s got a handful of news reports that you’ve practically memorised.

Okay, that’s a little obsessive. Don’t admit that to him.

He wasn’t the ‘untouched by darkness’ that you’d thought of him before, his work face held all the darkness his smile did not. You hoped you never had to see the serious man who stood before the cameras.

“How’s Rita?” Aaron asks. He’s cut the top off his carrot cake, saving it for later. He looks at it longingly every now and then, then he scoops just a little bit of the cream cheese and lets it rest on his tongue.

“She’s good. Restless. She’s happy for the due date to arrive.” She’d also asked you to be the baby’s godparent. Rather forcefully, actually, it had felt a bit strange. That was the only reason you hadn’t jumped at the opportunity. You’d do anything for Rita, but saying yes in that instant would had felt strange. Almost… wrong, maybe.

Aaron knows you’re thinking about it. He puts his fork down and shifts in his chair, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t fill the silence between the two of you. You think about telling him, but then Lola’s bustling through the door and grabbing her apron.

“Hot stuff, when can I go for a smoke break?” is the first thing Lola says to you. She pulls chewing gum out of her mouth (yes, pulls. She sticks her fingers in her mouth and pulls it out as far as it will go without snapping) and Aaron moves his cake around his plate a bit. Does he not like it? Don’t be silly, he asked for it. Requested it. Whatever. You put his three cookies into a plastic bag and slide it across the counter to him.

“Lola you only just came in.”

“But I want to know,” she whines like she’s a teenager with an after school job, not a thirty-five-year-old woman who works at the diner full time. “Hey, Rita’s been acting weird, right? Is that a pregnancy thing, or?” Lola rubbed her nose on the back of her wrist and sniffs. An action you’re all too familiar with by now, and of course she was doing illegal substances in the bathroom before she started her shift when there’s a legitimate federal agent in the diner.

“Oh,” Lola says as she looks at Aaron. She looks at you, raises her eyebrows, and nods like she’s impressed. “I take back telling Rita she was a liar." Even without knowing the context of Rita and Lola's conversation, you know Rita had told Lola how pretty/handsome/gorgeous Aaron is. "I’m going to go clean some tables.”

She grabs the cleaning supplies and heads out into the dining area. The door swings open, banging against one of the booths, and you’re immensely glad Lola doesn’t scream 'watch it’ at them. A curly haired blonde woman (gorgeous, mind you) touches Aaron’s shoulder and he sits up straight, smiling, and your heart plummets a little bit. Just the tiniest amount.

“Jack insisted we switch over here before I go to parent/teacher interviews.” As if on queue, a well mannered, sandy-haired boy sits next to Aaron and grins too much like Aaron. Aaron’s son. You can put two and two together. Profiler or not.

“How was school?” Aaron asks. Jack shrugs.

“It was school.” He learnt that from his dad, there’s no question.

“Well, in that case. Jack, this is my friend Y/n. Y/n, this is Jack.” Jack extends a hand to shake in greeting and looks really shy about it. You shake it quickly so he doesn’t feel like a kid who’s been roped into doing adult things. There’s a pile of colouring-in pages Joe’s printed off at the local library beneath a cup of crayons that Jack’s eyeing off.

You grab a sheet and a crayon, raising an eyebrow in invitation as you turn around to Jack.

“Yes please,” he says, grin growing across his face. “Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome. Wonderful manners.” Jack grins even bigger and you think he, too, might combust just like his dad. Stardust! That’s the movie you were thinking of. When Yvaine sees Tristan she shines, literally, the star inside of her just can’t be contained. That’s Aaron and Jack, and the way they look when they smile.

Aaron’s sister-in-law looks at you with a cocked head, like a curious cat. Like she’s waiting to pounce. But… curiously pounce. Like she's sussing you out. She extends a hand in greeting.

“Jess. Aaron’s talked about you.”

There’s no response but to look sheepish. This seems to greatly please Jess, who smiles softly and rubs the back of Aaron’s head affectionately. They have a long history together, it’s too familial to be just a relationship born through marriage.

“I’ll see you later then, Rockstar,” Jess says.

“Bye,” Aaron and Jack say together. Aaron rests his cheek on his hand, watching you as Lola hands you three orders she’s taken while you’ve been talking to Aaron. Jack leans over and whispers to Aaron about his homework (it’s a whisper that belongs on a stage) as you wrestle with the coffee machine.

It’s been grinding it’s way down to not working for a while now. Ever since you met Aaron, actually. Joe’s said he’s going to fix it, or get a new one, but everyone’s in a state of non-commital until Rita has her baby.You’ve got no idea why, it’s just the way things are. Good luck, maybe? Or luck in general?

Somehow you get Aaron talking about Shakespeare. It might have been Jack’s doing, to be completely honest, but one moment you’re trying to make the froth… well, froth… and the next you're listening to Aaron talk animatedly about Othello. Jack's young enough to not think his Dad's passion is embarrassing.

"Have you watched Othello?" Jack asks, a question that Aaron's neglected to ask you. "I'm not old enough to yet."

"I haven't seen that one yet, but I've seen Much Ado About Nothing."

"Is that the one with the olive gardens?" Jack asks. Aaron frowns, eyes searching for the answer in that big beautiful minds tonight.

"Yes," he says finally. "That was the one with the olive trees."

Jack giggles. "There was kissing in that movie."

"Lots of it," Aaron agrees. You're not sure you're talking about the same film, but it's cute to see the two of them interact.

"With the guy who plays Lockhart in the second Harry Potter movie?" You ask. Jack laughs just like his father. It's all light and mirth. He nods in confirmation.

"His name is Kenneth," Jack says like he's familiar with him. When Aaron smiles, you know Jack's his whole world.

It’s not long before Aaron realised he’d brought Jack in without asking if he wanted anything. The afternoon rush had died down, leaving you in the space between out-of-work and dinner. You make the most chocolate-y hot chocolate you can for Jack when Aaron says he can have one. Well, Jack says the best bit is the froth, so it’s more child-size-hot-chocolate-in-an-adult-mug-full-of-froth. Jack loves it. He slurps at the chocolate, which leaves a giant frothy mustache over his top lip that won’t go away no matter how much he licks at it.

When he’s done you let him come around to the kitchen to wash his face, because no amount of wet napkins is going to fix that mess. Jack can’t reach the sink, so you fashion a step out of old milk and bread crates. Joe gives him cake batter to taste before realising that he actually has no idea who Jack is. Aaron watches from the kitchen door with a smile on his face. You don’t catch it until Jack jumps off the crates and takes your hand, leading you back out. Aaron’s fingers brush your hand as you pass him. Electricity sparks between the two of you that's completely unavoidable. The two of you recoil involuntarily.

Aaron gives you a small smile of apology. You give exactly the same one back. Lola legitimately gasps like she too felt the electricity between the two of you. Surely that was just something that happened in movies? Or in books? That’s not a real thing, right? But Aaron brushes past you again, as if he’s making sure as well, and it’s there again. Only it’s like your whole arm becomes pins and needles, not just a quick lightning spark.

If it’s like that every time you’re with him, your not sure you could even go beyond lusting after him and giving him coffee and meals every now and then. Aaron drops his gaze, then follows Jack to the front of the counter.

They stay for dinner (because Jack insists, he wants the nachos) but the rush comes early and there’s really not much time to talk to them, so you almost miss them leaving. Almost. You’re serving the angry couple at table three (are they angry at you, or each other? Who knows, you don’t, but they’re taking it out on you) when Jack taps your hip.

He’s very patient as you finish the order (somehow you figure out what they want between the curse words) and bend down to him. He hands you a folded piece of paper.

“This is for you,” he says. “I did it.” You’re about to unfold it, but he insists that it belongs in your apron pocket until you can look at it with no rush. That’s a kid who knows what it’s like to have a very busy parent. So you tuck it away safely and mess with his hair, which makes him grin from ear to ear.

“See you later!” Jack yells as he runs to Aaron, who’s waving goodbye with a doggy bag full of Jack’s unfinished dinner.and his keys between his fingers.

“I’ll see you later,” he mouths as the noise in the diner starts to rise. Without thinking you blow him a kiss, which he catches effortlessly and kisses the fist closed around it before slipping out.

When you get to the kitchen Lola’s already in the midst of teasing you.

“You like him,” she says with all the confidence in the world. There’s not point denying her, so you just nod. It’s met by a chorus of ‘ooo’s which, to be honest, you really didn’t need. It made the diner feel far too small.

When everything dies down you remember the paper Jack had given you. You wipe the milk and spaghetti sauce off the counter, then make sure it’s dry, and unfold Jack’s page. It’s the generic colouring page Joe’s printed out, but Jack’s tried to make the generic waitress look like you. Well, you if you had purple hair and green skin. It’s a start, you guess, there’s an apology from Aaron on the back. Makes it worth it.

You move a couple of postcards on the corkboard aside and put Jack’s picture there instead. Joe pretends not to notice, but when Lola goes out the back with one of her customers, Joe comes round the front and presses a finger to the page.

“Good kid,” Joe says. He nods a couple of times then turns to you. “You know he and his dad come as a package, right? You fuck up one, you fuck up both.” Joe’s first wife had three kids that weren’t biologically his. He’s still mad at himself for not taking the kids seriously and only turning up for their mom.

“I know,” you say.

Joe strokes your cheek as he passes and kisses your forehead. It’s all the praise you need.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist (if you want to get added, just inbox me, and if I’ve missed you I am so sorry): @willowrose99 @genevievedarcygranger @maryosprinkle @kleff03 @yoshigguk @samanthareid06 @typical-leo @leilanixx

#It Only Takes a Taste #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #Diner!AU

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imdreaminadream · 4 years

Text

The results pt 2 ~ “What about it makes you cringe?” Category 1

( - prologue. - part 1 - category 2 - category 3)

Okay so this is the results to the question in the quiz, What about it makes you cringe. In reference to the questionnaires core subject about smut fanfics.

Also quick psa there will be a part for the results for the other question - “In kpop fics, Korean words i.e. jagiya, seem to be a no no, would you like to elaborate why?”

Now note these particular results are going to be split into 3 posts because I decided to split the results into 3 categories. 1 - Writing Aspects. 2 - Personal Preferences. 3 - Genuine Problems.

>THIS POST IS CATERGORY 1<

DISCLAIMER BELOW. (please read that before continuing)

This is going to be a long post. The responses were very enlightening but please don’t take this as an attack. Consider this more as constructive cheat sheet to good smut writing or just ignore it if you don’t agree with it. Some of this did get a bit deep appropriate trigger warnings will be put on the appropriate posts but I’m not sorry it got deep fics can also affect real life as much as we wish it were something that didn’t mix in with real life, it does. I’m no official like sex guru or big-time writer, or what ever BUT I did add little advice underneath each answer, which are just a reflection of the people’s answers. Again if you don’t like the sounds of this don’t take it personal and click off.

Writing aspects.

Poorly written/typos – Nearly all of the people said that, poorly written, bad grammar and lots of typos made them cringe. Answers said that sometimes works are so poorly written it comes across as though the person writing doesn’t know how sex works. Now by poorly written they talked about, the plot being non sensical, choppy or lacking decent grammar, too many typos, using words in the wrong context, repetitive language. They also specified they understand not everyone’s first language is English but the least that can be done is proofreading of the works by them or someone else. And many people cried over the use of first person, they felt it brings them out of imagining the fic.

Language used – So they we’re talking about strange words for body parts especially genitals, and just weird terms and phrases in general. Regarding body parts, everyone mentioned that childish or full-on scientific names for genitals was the worst. Feedback suggests calling it a dick, cock – although some commented that cock sounded too vulgar, and pussy. Also referring to female’s arousal as juices was a common answer, to quote one of my fav answers “so none of that her juices coated my fingers’ Like bitch it aint orange juice.” Then for weird terms and phrases, no specific example was given but I’m certain they meant things that literally every man and their dog would not say, ever! Personal opinion here but, “you like what you see?” and “Your wish is my command.”, and “tongues fighting for dominance.” should die off. It’s overused and I’m sick of seeing it – pretty sure no one says that during sex in real life anyway.

So, to avoid it alls you need to do is use second or third person, proofread, and learn how sex works if you don’t know. Also, best way to proofread it to leave it a few days then come back and read it again – also there are apps like Grammarly that help with your writing too. (PSA I personally love proofreading work, because I’m weird like that, so if you ever want me to proofread drop me a message/anon.)

So, take a moment to consider what you are writing, again proofreading is very helpful, and just stick to the mature ways to say dick/pussy. Suggestion here if you can’t write it the mature way, stop writing smut fics because clearly you’re either not mature enough or uncomfortable (to be) writing smut.

Dialogue – Too much dialogue and not enough action cropped up a number of times. Also that the dialogue written is cringy essentially, Then there was too much dirty talk, and dirty talk that shouldn’t even be considered dirty talk which commented a lot in regards to dialogue. And although I think I wrote about this answer previously but weird words, exaggeration, and choppiness in the dialogue. (someone commented over use of buzzword but idk what buzzwords are.) May I also personally add that written fake stutters irritate the living day lights out of me just stop.

---- I actually did another questionnaire about this, it didn’t garner same amount as this one but it gained a good few responses. The answers should be available to see, if you want you can take a look at that to see more about people thoughts when it comes to dirty talk in fics. ----

Advice is, keep in mind when writing dirty talk what sounds good, to plausible, to terrible. Just think about what sounds realistic as well, draw on your own experiences or what you want to be said to you. Also, if you don’t find it sexy don’t write it for everyone else’s sake or to fit in with the trend, stay true to yourself but try to vary it up for each fic you write.

No build up – They talked about how some fics go straight to the dicking down, to action, with no build up or a bit of sensical plot, and it doesn’t work. Or if the characters haven’t even talked and suddenly, they’re down to fuck. They expressed it doesn’t make sense and doesn’t feel like the characters are even that interested, as though they’re fucking for the sake of fucking. This also ties in with some comments that said sometimes people fail to remember smut isn’t just about being railed, it is also about connections with people and making love so going straight to the fucking, fails to make the reader want to continue reading.

The solution to this is to reference history/tension or build up the tension between characters, or just set the scene a little bit before getting straight into it. Also remember no one is having sex without some foreplay and if they are it isn’t very good, so don’t let it be like that in your writing.

Lack of realism/inaccuracies – Okay so this was mainly in regard to sex, the way the body works and some scenarios. To elaborate, people said that there are just some sex positions and places to have sex that just don’t work. In example one person wrote how sex in a gaming/office chair doesn’t work well and they know through personal experience. So, for the readers it’s just super unrealistic that it happens, and it leaves the reader either fixated on figuring out how that is possible or cringing because they know it’s not possible rather than reading the rest of the fic. There’re also just some ways the body doesn’t work I’m not going to go through examples there are so many, but we all know what is meant. Also, I’ll mention that kinks also were apart of the lack of realism, I’ll talk more about that in the next post.

So, based on this the only thing I can say is keep it real and keep it accurate as possible. Like we know its fiction but consider how ridiculous some of the stuff you’re writing may be, how impossible it is. Just don’t be afraid to google things – you can actually freeze and delete your search history – to double check or educate yourself about. Or ask for advice, draw from experience, or maybe try it out yourself with or without your partner then reflect that in your writing.

----------------------------------

END OF CATERGORY 1

(Feel free to discuss in comments, in my messages or send anons or anything like that if you want.)

Tag list

@nctsworld, @lauraneuuh, @jooniyah, @ceoofxiaojun, @lovemayble @hyucksie @myelle-n

- if anyone else wants to be tagged for the next parts let me know via anon or dm -

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

you look bizarre, in the apricot

Summary: Thomas Sanders and Nico Flores VS The Town of Night Vale: An Epistolary from the outside.

Pairings: Pintoverts, Cecilos and Gen friendships otherwise

Read on AO3

Word count: 976

Warnings: Unreality, reality being really weird, sparsely described body horror. I am not as good of a surrealism writer as Min, this is my first foray even remotely into the genre, but I hope to make more stuff like this sometime! Stay Safe

Other notes: For Min! hope you enjoy <3

Tagged: @sometimes-love-is-enough

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joan: u there yet?

Me (15:03): yes!! Sending a photo real quick

Me: (IMAGE.png)

[Image description: Thomas and Nico, both fairly suntanned, facing the camera with some parts of their faces awkwardly cropped off. However, it’s easy to see that they are both grinning wildly in front of a new house, reminiscent of fifties suburbia behind them, with a small pile of boxes near the door.]

Me (15:94): we’re gonna be unpacking now

Me (15:94): byeeeeee!!

Joan: Wait what’s up with your clock thing?

Me (15:95): dunno looks fine to me

Joan: yea prolly a glitch

Joan: see ya

…

Google Search History:

What foods cause hallucinations? Should you listen to hallucinations? Should you listen to hallucinations of fictional characters you created? Should you listen to hallucinations trying to help you? Why are writing objects banned in night vale Why does internet explorer work better in night vale Internet freaking explorer why Night vale Night vale news What is wrong with night vale What are the secret police

delete history?

...

“And now: Traffic.

Today on traffic, as we can see, the formerly fictitious aspects of a newcomer’s personality, Mr. Thomas Foley Sanders are currently running amok, amongst the many vehicles in today’s commute. However, Thomas is a rare case of someone who has enough internal strife that he feels the need to regularly bring out his aspects. For the rest of us, we either live in blissful, absolute ignorance, or neverending guilt.

Props to Mr. Sanders for trying to find his way through the deceptive caverns of the conscious and subconscious mind, but I would really rather get into our real traffic report, instead of talking about the state of vehicles in the city. This is boooooooring!”

...

Call history:

Joan Sticks (45:15) Tally (28:10) Nico my beloved (10:59) Joan Sticks (10:12) Joan Sticks (1:19:34) Nico my beloved (11:102) Carlos ? (???) Carlos The Scientist Palmer (???) Carlos The Scientist Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Nico my beloved (???) Patton (???) Logan (???) Virgil (???) Roman (???) Janus (+Remus) (???)

…

Group Chatroom with: Joan Sticks, Tallycat, Nico my beloved

Nico: @Joan @Tallycat I think something’s wrong with this town

Me: yes why is there a secret police

Me: why

Me: frickin w h y

Me: and the sides? Real

Me: i have pictures!! Evidence!!

Me: [IMAGE.png] [IMAGE2.png]

[Image Description 1: the sides and Thomas in a large cuddle pile. They are toppled together and making obvious contact, with fabric becoming creased under contact points.]

[Image Description 2: The Sides, Nico and Thomas are cooking together. It is going badly.]

…

EXISTENTIAL CRISES! | Sanders Sides

“And for today’s sponsor, we have a minor switch! Today we are sponsored by Big Rico’s Pizza!” says Thomas, a bunch of pixels on hundreds of thousands of screens.

“Now in two more flavors- one with vegan pepperoni and cheese, for anyone to enjoy, and of course, for all our eternal scouts, void. Simply void .Nobody does a slice like Big Rico’s! No one.” Thomas seems surprised at his own nonchalance at what he’s saying, but he gets a thumbs up from a hand just barely in camera view, and continues.

“Anyways- go to the checkout, enter the promo code thomassandersAAAAAAA and order some Big Rico’s Pizza today! Now, on to the episode”

Comments (3,030)

CosmicAce 1991 Why is the last thing on Thomas’s twitter from a month ago and WHY IS THIS VIDEO SIX MONTHS LATE?

Berry-Blast Ngl love the hugging- care to share a process reel? Aren’t Joan and Talyn too far away to work on this anymore? Let's Go Ghost When are we getting a new cartoon therapy?

Patton-Patoff WHERE ARE THE CORNERS?? THIS DOES NOT WORK WITH GREENSCREEN?? HOW DID THEY JUST… DO ANYTHING IN THIS VIDEO??

Minute Where is the checkout? Can’t find it. Also hi nico!

Cecil Jaws Stan All hail the glow cloud

DreadfulZombie19 These existential crises are… uncomfortable to say the least. Thank you for at least adding trigger warnings. Speaking of which, where are the SVS redux epilepsy warnings?

…

Google Search History for: Joan Stokes

Plane tickets to night vale Plane tickets to night vale, usa Which state is night vale in Where is night vale Driving map to night vale What is a delta airlines flight 27 Why is my friend from night vale acting so weird Night vale radio How to get friend out of night vale

…

Sanders Jaws! @ThomasSanders

Video is going to be delayed by about a week- Tuesday got cancelled, you see. No worries! As soon as it’s back, there will be a new Cartoon Therapy!

Replies

Min-Ding-Ding-Ding @arealsword Hope Tuesday’s doing alright

I really like flowers @sodoroses

What is actually going on is Thomas okay what is happening

…

Using Gravity Falls to cope with strange events in life! | Cartoon Therapy

Comments (1,048)

Minerva

Dang wonder what’s been going on.

…

Call transcript: Thomas Sanders, Joan Sticks, Nico my Beloved (xx:xx:xx)

“But here’s the thing- it used to be really scary-”

“Terrifying.”

“Yeah, but now? I guess we just have an all-powerful glow cloud (all hail) on the school board.”

“And we also have a sentient hand as my swimming coach. She’s cool.”

“How- How are you so cool with all this?”

“Stockholm syndrome?”

“I mean, the sides are real people here, so I get to have my crises off camera for once, which is nice.”

“Joan!!!” “Joan!” “Joan <3”

“One sec guys, I’ll give you the phone in a minute!”

“Okayyyyy” “How did Roman pull off pronouncing the heart emoticon?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Well, if you’re happy…”

“Don’t worry too much about us, buddy. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah! Carlos and I are going to be at a Slap-Poetry contest against Thomas and Cecil!”

“Mmhm. Well, goodnight then. Love you both.”

“Love you too!”

“Yeah! Love you too, Joan!”

#Sanders Sides #Welcome to Night Vale #sanders sides fanfiction #do not repost #cecil palmer

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

bella I would love a directors cut on literally any of the rilex you’ve written, but specifically it’s always her, and you, and me, or for these days you’ve been stuck in my brain 💙

OHHHHHH those are some CHOICESSSSSS lucy. fuck yeah. let’s get into it. ill link them both here but we’ll take em one at a time

it’s always her, and me, you

these days you’ve been stuck in my brain

here’s a cut for convenience cos i KNOW i’m gonna go long here.

okay! let’s start with the rilisex fic.

it’s always her, and me, and you

so like it says in the ao3 notes, this fic came from realizing just how frequently rian and alex kiss each other like, all the time? just? casually? for funsies? this was another one of those situations like i mentioned where the hook aka first line (“Rian's no expert, but he doesn't think normal friends kiss this much.”) just appeared in my head and i was like heyyy that’s a GOOD first line. i have to build from that line. that’s the hook, that’s the summary, that’s the core.

something i discovered upon searching through the editing history of the doc: i had originally sort of intended to go a direction with this where in some other circumstance, rian would see alex giving jack a super casual friendly kiss and he’d get all sad/jealous and be like sure why SHOULDNT alex kiss jack after all its just a thing he does with his FRIENDS. but the fic ended up going a different way and honestly? im glad. i like this way better.

the role of singin in the rain in this fic actually has a HILARIOUS backstory because the night i originally wrote that conversation in the tour bus kitchen, i went into the club and said the following

and then. the next day. rian streamed with ricky, and i asked if he’d ever seen singin in the rain, and he ANSWERED ME and said he hadn’t. so first of all i had already written the scene and i then had to rewrite it to make it so rian wouldn’t have seen it but also!!! i literally asked rian fucking dawson if he’d seen a movie for the sole reason of using that information for fanfiction!!!! and he provided me with the information i needed!!!! whole thing is just fucking hysterical to me. ANYWAY.

ANYWAY, the other reason why sitr has such a big role in the fic is because megs and i watched the movie together while i was in the middle of working on the fic, so it was extremely fresh in my mind. in fact i can probably show you this: i had this comment left for myself when i was kind of trying to figure out if i could make a real metaphor of sorts with the sitr ot3 and the Big Three of this fic. some of this ended up in rian’s wild musings in the hotel scene but i did conclude that it wouldn’t really have worked and that was definitely true but anyway. fuck it, director’s cut, here’s the kind of shit i leave for myself to refer to

so that’s part of the reason why it became such a puzzle piece of this fic, but real talk, it’s also just because i love singin in the rain it’s one of my favorite movies lmao

briefly gonna also touch on lisa and why she’s in this fic because i realize that rian/alex/lisa is an interesting approach to rilex! first of all, i love lisa. i love alex and lisa. and it occurred to me that there was really no reason to split lisex up just to make rilex happen. plus there’s this tweet that really just pushed me over the edge of being like yeah, rilisex is extremely plausible. so that’s that on that.

as for the scene in the hotel room while they’re watching sitr, there is a small piece of that scene - from when alex starts kissing rian’s shoulders etc to “it would defy the laws of nature not to” - that i actually wrote before anything else in that scene. that small piece got stretched out and edited quite a bit from how it started but it did function as a sort of foundation around which i built the rest of the scene, because that small section sort of ~came to me~ absolutely out of nowhere, and i really liked the Vibe it had and i wanted to include it. i THINK that was the only piece of this fic that i wrote Out Of Order - for the most part this was written chronologically.

ALSO!!! omg this is exciting, this fic actually has a deleted scene!!!!!! i hate cutting scenes but i also hate having scenes that are less than 1k and this one didn’t really contribute much to the fic. i can probably share it here right? sure why not ! hopefully you can read this. it originally took place after the scene where alex and rian call lisa for the first time. the question of “what gets left into interview videos and what gets cut” is also just interesting to me as a (fic) concept in general so...eyes emoji, but here’s my mini-exploration that i cut from the original fic. enjoy lol it’s silly <3

oh! also one more thing!! the very final scene was included for two reasons. the first reason being that when i write getting-together fics, i really prefer to add on a scene After they Get Together because i love to write domestic established relationship stuff and i think that’s a satisfying reward for a reader who’s just slogged through all the mutual pining and bullshit to get the characters together. but the OTHER reason is that i got an anon (here it is!) and i read that ask and was immediately like well shit. now i have to fucking include this. for the anon and for myself. so you can thank that anon for that last scene. (also i wanted to include merrikat especially since i had to cut their little moment in the interview scene above.)

so....................whew. i think i’ve bled that fic dry. holy shit that’s a lot of Stuff. OKAY! let’s move on.

these days you’ve been stuck in my brain

so!!! THIS fic was the breakthrough after (what felt like) a long bout of writer’s block. long for me was maybe two weeks, but i am the kind of person who is always writing, and two weeks was a long time to go with little to no inspiration/motivation to write anything. i had also been in a weird narrative headspace because i’d been binge-watching disney shows (jessie > austin and ally > girl meets world) and i don’t know how well i can explain this but the way those shows are written is a lot snappier and cares way less for realistic and consistent character development or plots or relationships, and so i was stuck between caring a lot about including those things in my fics but also being unable to conceptualize them in writing because my brain was in Disney Writing Mode. does that make sense? this is rhetorical so let’s go with yes. so anyway. i was in a slump

actually what i ended up doing was basically googling something like “au prompts tumblr” or something and just scrolling through posts. i saw something about soulmate telepathy and i actually tried to write something totally different before i wrote this one, but the first attempt was a different concept and then the direction i took it was like......it wasn’t quite right and i realized that i was kind of writing dark disney style? there is really no way for me to explain what i mean by that because it seems really obvious to me but that’s just because i’m inside my own head so just take my word.

anyway. attempt #1 of soulmate telepathy rilex went poorly, and this fic was attempt #2. i kinda took the soulmate telepathy thing and changed it as i saw fit and i also went back to skim helen’s telepathy fic because obviously she’s the pro and then i tried not to steal her ideas. and as i was writing it i kinda realized i was doing the whole quirky funny best friend character with jack and also doing the whole “somehow this not-very-dramatic situation with teenagers is treated as The Most Dramatic Thing Ever and that’s totally normal and nobody finds it strange” disney trope with rian and alex being soulmates and i was like (deep sigh) i have to accept that no matter how much i try to fight this, this fic is going to be tainted with disney. and that’s life

on top of that i will add that the real-life rilex were extremely inspiring during the two-day period during which i wrote this fic, because that was when the once in a lifetime video came out and in the brief pre-video livestream rilex were Beyond Married and that definitely helped in the writing of fic rilex!

hmmmm what can i tell you about this fic itself.................honestly, i don’t think there’s much to tell! rian is a band kid because in real life rian was a band kid and he’s staff manager at rita’s just like he was in real life. there is truthfully not a lot to unpack here that i can think of!

oh here’s something i guess: rian and alex go on a date in this fic! that is because watching So Much Disney made me realize that i often forget the fact that people just. go on dates. sometimes. look i clearly do not have an active romantic life but i also really liked the idea of alex and rian going on a date despite not knowing if they’d be soulmates or not and liking each other organically just by getting to know each other, rather than being victim to the whole soulmate thing. like i wanted them to build a connection so that they would want to be soulmates. and then the audience would want that for them too. stakes!! very important.

i can tell you i had a mild crisis over the title of the fic because i am not a fan of the word brain and i didnt wanna use that sticky lyric for the title when it had a word i hated but it was objectively a much better title option than the other one i had, which was “sticky just like the song in my head” but i obviously decided on the former and it has not upset me nearly as much as i expected it to so that was the right decision imo

so! i think that’s all on that! sorry (?) that it got so long although then again i don’t know what’s to be expected in a director’s cut for two long fics but thank you for asking me about these, i love them both so very much rilex is so supremely underrated but so very important

#cashtonasfuck #ask #answered #this is a whole ass multimedia fucking presentation #you asked for the director's cut but like i sure as hell didnt hold back dflkhggj #in fairness you picked two longer fics #though most of my rilex fics are longer ones which is strange #but like good for them #director's cut #this was really fun #thank you lucyyy <3 #these were the good right choices for rilex fics to dissect because the other ones are either shorter or rilex is a background pairing #or like . just aint that deep #i stole the plot of something unpredictable from that other fic by that other person #so ya know #the fact that this response contains an entire deleted scene in a screenshot #this is a lot lmfao

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voltrontranscript · 4 years

Text

VLD S8E4: Battle Scars

Season 8 Episode 4: Battle Scars

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: In a race against time as a weblum approaches Olkarion, the paladins have to piece together what happened to destroy the once-vibrant planet and all its people as flashbacks reveal the destructive powers of Honerva’s white Altean mechs.

[Google Doc]

Hunk: Okay, that’s the third star system we checked in the last eleven days, and we still haven’t found a single clue about any robeasts.

Pidge: Actually, that was the eleventh star system in the last three days.

Hunk: Was it, really? Oh my gosh. Okay, see, I’m so worn out, I can’t even… you know.

Lance: Uh, count?

Hunk: No. Think.

Allura: I know this is not ideal, but the intel we received from the Galra cruiser in Lahn’s fleet identified one of those robeasts within this quadrant. We must find it.

Keith: Unfortunately, we just don’t know how current that information is.

Pidge: Also, this celestial quadrant is two hundred and thirty thousand lightyears in diameter.

Hunk: I can’t even process what that means.

Pidge: Okay, picture five fleas searching for another flea on a dog that’s the size of Earth.

Hunk: Ugh, all this talk about fleas is making me itchy. Are you guys feeling itchy?

Lance: Pidge, why can’t you and Hunk just make a robeast tracker thingy, you know? Do some math and science stuff. Then put some components together and bam, it’s done.

Allura: Perhaps we should set our heading for the Altean colony.

Keith: We talked about this. To get to the colony, we would have to travel through the Quantum Abyss.

Pidge: Plus, Kolivan said the colony no longer exists.

Allura: But there will be clues there, something to go off of.

Keith: Traveling through that abyss was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. A single misstep could turn a six-month journey into a ten-year journey. The creatures, the environment, everything in there wants you dead. Except you.

Allura: I’m tired of hearing what we can’t do and what we don’t know.

Lance: Allura, we just want to make the best decisions--

Allura: The Alteans were my people, and the last of them are being exploited as soldiers in someone else’s war. You don’t understand.

Lance: I understand what it feels like to see someone I care about hurt so much.

Allura: I’m sorry, Lance.

Hunk: Okay, maybe we head to Olkarion. We’re just a few galaxies away. They might have some information on any unusual sightings.

Keith: Hunk’s right. Olkarion is a great spot to regroup and evaluate our situation.

Pidge: And it’ll be awesome to see everyone again. I wonder what kind of technological advances they’ve made in the last few years. Oh, man! If they figured out a way to untangle the uncertainty principle, new precision calculations could open the doors to a flood of innovations!

Lance: I think I understood, like, three of those words.

Keith: Allura, what do you think?

Allura: Perhaps a trip to Olkarion is best.

Hunk: Alright! Let’s do this!

Pidge: Hailing Olkarion. Be advised the Paladins of Voltron are en route. This is Pidge… hailing Olkarion. Do you copy?

Hunk: Are they not home?

Lance: Probably too busy untangling calculations. Am I using that right?

Hunk: No, not even close.

Pidge: I’m guessing there’s a delay due to our distance. We’ll probably receive their reply on the way.

Keith: Paladins, if we want to get to Olkarion quickly, there’s only one way to do it.

[Voltron transformation sequence.]

Keith: Engage wings!

Lance: Welcome to Olkarion’s galactic neighborhood. Did we ever hear from them?

Pidge: Actually, no, which is strange. I’ll try and contact them again. Whoa! We got incoming! Something big is headed our way at an incredible speed.

Lance: A Galra cruiser? Some kind of weapon?

Allura: Is it a robeast?

Keith: Shield up!

Lance: What the heck is that thing?

Hunk: It’s a weblum! Keith, look! We’ve been inside one of those!

Keith: How could I forget?

Pidge: Um, what’s it doing?

Hunk: Actually, it’s creating scaultrite. Pidge, you would love it. It’s this amazing chemical process--

Lance: Science talk later! We’re in its line of fire!

Keith: Thrusters!

Lance: Should we go on the offensive?

Hunk: No, no. They may be dangerous, but they’re essential for the universe. Think of them like giant space bees. Keith and I learned all about them from a video that Coran made. There was some rule, like, “If you don’t want to be killed stay away from its gills”?

Keith: That wasn’t the rhyme. It’s “If you don’t want to be dead, avoid its head.”

Allura: We don’t have time to listen to you rhyme!

Hunk: You just--

Keith: Hunk!

Allura: Where is that weblum going?

Pidge: According to my calculations, it’s headed towards… Olkarion.

Keith: Then we better get there first.

[Transition to Olkarion’s surface.]

Pidge: They were our allies, our friends.

Keith: Paladins, I know this is a difficult moment, but we need to get to work. That weblum is headed here right now, so time is short. Our top priority is search and rescue. If there are survivors, we need to find them, and we need to find out what happened here.

Allura: There is only one thing capable of this.

Keith: Well, let’s confirm it.

[Cut to each paladin conducting their search.]

Keith: I think our worst fears have been realized.

Hunk: What do you see?

Keith: The physical wreckage and destruction patterns are just like those on Earth.

Allura: Our findings are the same. It appears the quintessence was siphoned out of Olkarion as well.

Hunk: Lance and I took readings. We picked up trace elements of psyferite. That’s the same metal the creature on Earth was made from.

Allura: Why did this robeast attack Olkarion of all places?

Lance: Maybe because it was a central part of the coalition.

Allura: Maybe. I just get the feeling there’s something more to it.

Keith: You might be right, but we don’t have any way to confirm it. Right now, we just need to focus on finding survivors.

Allura: Pidge, have you picked up anything? Pidge, do you copy? Pidge?

Pidge: I know this place. This is where Ryner taught me how to bond with the forest. The Olkari people helped me to make that connection. I learned more from them than I ever thought possible. Allura, they had so much more to teach the universe. And now they’re gone. Huh? Huh?

Allura: Pidge. Are you alright?

Pidge: You didn’t see it?

Allura: See what?

Pidge: The forest, it was back to how it was before. There were girls playing.

Allura: Maybe this place is trying to show you something.

Pidge: What?

Allura: The Olkari had a profound connection to the land, just like you do. Their history could be etched into the very soil for you to see. Concentrate. See if you can tap into its energy.

[Transition to a flashback of Olkarion shortly before its destruction as Pidge watches.]

Olkari Girl: Come on! Follow me!

Pidge: Huh? We need to get to the city!

[Cut back to the present as Allura and Pidge return to the city, then the flashback resumes with Pidge watching.]

Pidge: Ryner.

Allura: You can see Ryner? What is she doing?

Pidge: The robeast! It’s here! We need to get closer. Ryner!

Ryner: Get civilians to evacuation pods and launch them immediately! Have all military personnel report to battle stations. Scramble the mechs for counterattack. Come with me!

[Cut back to the present.]

Pidge: Ryner. It seemed like she was talking to me. Or it could have been to the soldiers. I don’t know.

Allura: All the answers we’re looking for could be here. We may be able to find out where this beast came from and where it’s going next. There might be some clue here about the Alteans.

Pidge: If there is, I will find it.

Hunk: Guys, we have a, uh--we have a major problem here.

Lance: Hunk released some low-orbit trackers outside of Olkarion on the way in. The weblum just set them off. We have about ten minutes to evac!

Keith: Copy that. Everyone to their lions! Let’s go, now!

Allura: We can’t leave yet. How long do you think you can hold it off?

Lance: Hold it off? It’s a giant space worm! We can’t hold it off. What are you talking about?

Allura: Pidge found a way to tap into Olkarion’s history. She may be able to find out what we need to know, but we need a little more time.

Keith: Alright, we’ll buy you as much time as we can.

Allura: Copy that. Thank you.

Keith: Hunk, Lance, we need to hurry! I got it on scanners. Let’s intercept it.

[Flash back to the fall of Olkarion.]

Ryner: Go, go, go! We need to preserve the information from the communications tower! Keep the beast at bay as long as you can.

[Cut to Keith, Lance, and Hunk in space.]

Keith: We need to get it to divert its course.

Lance: And how do we do that?

Hunk: How about like this? Uh, my idea isn’t working!

Lance: Okay, okay, well, what were the rules with this thing?

Hunk: I’m drawing a blank. I’m not good under pressure!

Keith: It’s still heading for Olkarion! We haven’t slowed it down at all!

[Cut to Pidge and Allura on the communications tower as the flashback continues.]

Olkari Officer: How did we not pick this thing up on our scanners?

Female Engineer: It just appeared!

Pidge: Just like on Earth.

Olkari Officer: How could that be? Wait, bring up our scanner logs. Those anomalies we detected recently. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. The anomalies are from the warping of space-time. This creature came through a wormhole.

Ryner: Transfer all data from this facility to a safe location off-planet, then evacuate immediately!

Olkari Officer: Understood. What we just discovered could save billions of lives.

[Cut back to the present.]

Pidge: It was a wormhole. That’s how they travel.

Hunk: Pidge, Allura! I’m sorry, but you’ve gotta get out of there immediately!

Pidge: I need more time.

Allura: I’m coming up to help.

[Cut to Keith, Lance, and Hunk in space with the weblum.]

Lance: Over here! This way! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Too close! How’d you guys beat this thing the first time?

Keith: We never beat it. Trying to get it to alter its course is an entirely different thing than collecting its scaultrite.

Hunk: Alright, that’s it. I’m calling Coran. Coran, come in!

Coran: Hunk! Hello there.

Hunk: Coran! You’re there! Okay. Um, I’m sorry to make this quick, but we need to stop a weblum from eating a planet, like, right now! Any chance you know how to do that?

Coran: Well, it’s definitely been a while, but in my younger days, me and my cohorts would have a little weblum fun.

Hunk: Coran! We’re kind of in a rush here!

Coran: Right. Let’s see, if I remember correctly, all you need to do--[static hissing]--on the trilo-mutarth, which you’ll find under its dorsal--[static hissing]

Hunk: Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! Not this again! Our connection is breaking up!

Coran: --resulting in face boils, a runny nose, and cosmic light radiation poisoning. And if you don’t do this, you’ll expand to twice your size and pop like a balvax.

Hunk: Okay, that conversation took a lot longer than I expected, and I learned nothing. Allura, thank you!

Allura: Please hurry, Pidge.

[Cut back to the fall of Olkarion.]

Ryner: Hurry! Everyone on board. It came for something. Find out what.

Pidge: It came for the cubes. Why? Ryner, can you hear me? Do you know why the beast wanted the cubes? Please, talk to me!

Ryner: Hurry! Everyone on!

Pidge: Ryner, please! Ryner!

Olkari Girl: I’m scared. I don’t want to leave!

Ryner: You mustn’t cling too tightly to the past. The Olkari have always been able to adapt and move forward. It is our greatest strength. And it will live on in you.

Olkari Girl: But, our home…

Ryner: The old must give way to the new. It’s the way of the universe. Now please, go.

[Flashback fades away and Pidge becomes aware of the present again.]

Allura: Pidge! Pidge, are you there? We can’t hold this thing off any longer. You need to get out of there!

[Cut to Hunk in Yellow Lion.]

Hunk: There she is! The planet is clear!

Keith: Everyone, fall back away from the weblum!

Lance: It’s… it’s all gone.

Allura: I’m sorry, Pidge.

Keith: I wish we could’ve done more.

Pidge: Thanks, everyone.

Hunk: If you think about it, this isn’t really the end of Olkarion. Weblums eating dead planets is just the first step in a process that leads to the growth of new stars, planets, and galaxies.

Pidge: The old gives way to the new. We need to contact the Atlas.

Allura: Why?

Pidge: Because it turns out the Olkari weren’t done teaching us a few things. They showed me a way to track the robeasts. Their information is going to save billions of lives.

End.

#vld #voltron #transcript #pidge #allura #hunk #keith #lance #ryner #coran

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makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 260: GOD IS A WOMAN

Previously on BnHA: Virtually all of the known pro heroes in existence split into two big groups (each with its own weenie hut junior subgroup) to launch a massive surprise attack on the League of Pliff. Endeavor’s group, in Jakku, stormed the hospital where Ujiko works, which amazingly seemed to catch him completely off guard, so I guess we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile off in the woods somewhere, Midnight’s group (ostensibly this is Edgeshot’s group, but I call it like I see it guys) prepared to attack the villains’ main HQ at the Overlook Hotel, while my infant son Kaminari Denki complained too loudly about being stuck on the front lines. Meanwhile the rest of 1-A (sans Tokoyami) is either tucked away safe in the woods, or perched just outside of Jakku ready to begin the citizen evacuation. I suggest that everyone enjoy this brief period where the good guys appear to be safe and victorious while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: MIRUKO!!! Okay lol. A lot happens in this chapter. Aizawa uses his quirk on Ujiko, who immediately starts melting away into a crispy-fried old man because apparently this motherfucker had the immortality quirk all along. And then Mic and Aizawa yell at him, and the other doctors are all “pardon us but what the fuck” and the heroes are all “NO TIME TO TALK, HE’S EVIL” and then we find out that Ujiko is a fucking Twice clone, so that’s just great. And the real Ujiko is of course down in the basement, along with LORD EVEN KNOWS HOW MANY HIGH END NOUMUS, and for a moment it honest to god looks like we’re screwed. But then MIRUKO, YOUR NEW FAVORITE CHARACTER, KICKS DOWN ALL THE FREAKING DOORS AND FLATTENS POOR JOHN-KUN AND IS ALL “BOOM, YOU LOOKING FOR THIS?”, and let me tell you guys, FOR A MOMENT I SAW TRUTH. Anyway so next chapter she’s probably going to have to fight zombie Jeanist or something, but for now? Life is good. REMEMBER THIS DAY.

so just like last week, before I get started I’m gonna do a quick follow-up on chapter 259. really, Viz’s version wasn’t all that different from the fan scanlation this time around, so this will mostly just be reactions to things I didn’t notice and that other people pointed out

first off, a couple people mentioned that the thing Mic is holding up appears to be some kind of throat spray. which seems to track, so I’ll just say again that I have a very morbid curiosity about whether or not Mic could actually kill someone with his quirk. and this curiosity has only intensified since my google search

so yeah. will we ever get to see something like this?? STAY TUNED

also, I got a couple of conflicting answers about Naomasa’s quirk. someone said his quirk was lie-detecting, but another person said that’s actually his sister’s (LOL I HAD NO IDEA THERE WAS A NAOSIS, I REALLY SHOULD JUST READ VIGILANTES) quirk. and I never actually followed up on that lol sooooo. let me just do that real quick

okay so he doesn’t have a quirk listed on the wiki, but it says that his codename (??) is “True Man.” so that does seem to imply that his quirk is similar if not identical to his sister’s quirk, which is indeed a truth quirk (Polygraph). although the “she can’t detect a lie if the person is relaxed” seems to call this ability into doubt a bit. still pretty powerful though I guess

moving on now, last but not least let’s discuss the most relevant and controversial thing that happened this past week. (incidentally, I added an ETA about this to the previous chapter recap a couple hours after I first posted it, so in case you don’t what the asks below are referring to, it’s that.)

so... I have mixed feelings about this. thing is, after reading up on it, it seems like the fans who were most upset were those from China, Korea, etc., which is actually completely understandable given the historical context. Japan doesn’t exactly have a great track record with being sensitive about all of the horrific shit their military got up to during WWII, so while I still believe that Horikoshi wasn’t intending to be disrespectful, I can understand them not being inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt

that being said, I keep thinking about this tweet by aitaikimochi:

and despite what Horikoshi said in his apology tweets (about how he didn’t intend for the name to be associated with that particular historical connection), I still can’t help but think that he absolutely did intend to reference Unit 731, with the intent of (a) linking it to this vile, disgusting piece of shit character as a commentary, and (b) perhaps subtly pushing some of his Japanese readers who have never heard about this particular part of history to learn more about it. like, I know he offered up some dubious explanation about it being a reference to Ujiko’s rotund nature, but that seems really iffy to me tbh. that’s one hell of a coincidence if that’s really the case. idk

and you know what else -- and here’s where I’m really whipping out the conspiracy goggles -- I also can’t help but suspect that the decision to go back and change the name in the volume release is coming more from Shueisha (who I half-suspect weren’t themselves aware of the “maruta” name association until this blew up) than from him. because unfortunately this seems to be the standard Japanese PR response any time this subject comes up -- offer a vague statement of regret, and immediately proceed to wipe any mention of the subject from existence. because god forbid people actually talk about this or acknowledge that it happened

and so ultimately, while I do empathize with those who were upset by the name, I think it’s unfortunate that this is just getting swept back under the rug so quickly and will no doubt be forgotten about within a couple of months, because my gut feeling is that Shueisha was ultimately more concerned about what their Japanese readership might think about the controversy than what the Chinese and Korean fans thought. I could be wrong about that, and maybe also giving Horikoshi too much benefit of the doubt, but meh :/

anyway! so now that we’ve gotten that topic out of the way, let’s see how many pages it will take before the heroes finally realize just how much of an “oh fuck” situation they’ve gotten themselves into!

so the cover page is Hawks and Endeavor, but more importantly (to me), it establishes that this is indeed a hotel/resort and not a mansion, as the readheroaca team randomly translated it as last week. like does that look like any mansion you’ve ever seen. come on now

anyway so now my question is what happens if someone actually tries to stay at this hotel. do they just book that shit on trivago and enjoy a week up in the mountains surrounded by very strange but seemingly nice people, and just never suspect a thing? like, Gigantomachia lives in the basement here. I’m just saying. how dense can these hypothetical travelers be

also the hotel is apparently 80km from the hospital, or about 50 miles for us troglodytes who still use the imperial system. so pretty safe to say neither team will be able to provide backup to the other in this case. I will try not to think about this

so now Ujiko, the man without a name, is screaming while Endeavor and his group just STAND THERE LIKE TWENTY FEET AWAY. what the fuck

I swear to god he looked so much closer in the previous chapter. WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING. HE’S GOT NOUMUS IN THE BASEMENT!! CAN YOU FUCKING ARREST HIS ASS ALREADY

YESSSS AIZAWA

what are the odds that the next panel features Aizawa Shouta looking more pissed off than we’ve ever seen him. oh my god. it’s probably going to be hot af. I’m not sure I’m ready

booooooo

that is more or less the opposite of hot af. Horikoshi why you gotta do me like that

well well WELL!

you mean to say Mr. Innocent Quirkless Philanthropist isn’t actually quirkless?? even though he wasn’t actually innocent?? and he wasn’t actually a philanthropist either?? well I am just SHOCKED. who saw this coming. how could this happen

also for real this is creeping me the fuck out though

it does make sense though. I just can’t picture AFO entrusting so much of his operation to this dude if he actually was quirkless. because he’d view someone without a quirk as being lesser/inferior. so Ujiko almost had to have something up his sleeve. although it’s possible he could have been granted a quirk, rather than being born with one I suppose

!!!!

DO NOT TELL ME THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS THE FUCKING IMMORTALITY QUIRK. WHAT THE FUCK. IS HE JUST GOING TO SHRIVEL UP INTO NOTHING. NO FUCKING WAY HE GOES DOWN THAT EASY WHAT THE HELL

(ETA: and does this mean that if Aizawa ever visits AFO and uses his quirk on him, AFO will also instantly age like 200 fucking years? could that actually kill him?)

duuuuude. Nao’s speculating about whether the Noumus’ regeneration ability actually stems from this quirk. ...but that can’t be the case, can it? otherwise AFO would have been able to heal his injuries from the battle with All Might. we know for a fact he’s known Ujiko for at least 15 years. but still, either way it’s still one hell of a powerful quirk

which now seems to be unraveling before our very eyes. uh...

anyone else getting Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade vibes? “he chose... poorly”

oh MY GOD!!

do it Mic do it do it do it

oh my god. well he’s not killing him with his voice, but instead this is happening

nooo Mic. I need you to be less anguished and more murdery. I don’t want feels yet!! goddammit

I mean it’s not asking for too much, is it? I just want a teensy little bit of satisfaction before the shit hits the fan. just torture him a little bit. just a little!

oh hey some doctors are intervening because the heroes look like psychopaths right now

s2g if one of these fuckers gets in between Ujiko and Aizawa’s line of sight and he fucking gets away -- !! oh my god. I can’t fucking take this. ffdffjjjk I’m so anxious you guys, I could never be a hero the stress is too much

so instead of explaining it to these rightfully concerned people, the heroes are just pushing them aside and telling them to stand back. and like, on the one hand I get it. they’re on the clock, they have to eliminate John-kun before the hotel villains get wind of the attack, and they don’t have time to explain an entire series’s worth of backstory to everyone who asks about it. but on the other hand, I also just want them to shout “HE EXPERIMENTED ON CHILDREN AND CORPSES AND CREATED THE NOUMUS!” or something. just so they know. I need them to know goddammit

but at least the patients seem to all be pretty chill about it lmao

-- holy shit. okay, three things

that panel with them moving the beds is my favorite

the panel with Tora holding this one guy who’s suddenly IN LOVE is also my favorite. oh man. Tora you are the manliest

combat with the WHAT DID YOU SAY NOW

so they knew?? well that sure fucking explains why Endeavor made the executive decision to keep his son and the other kids as far away as possible. but also, what? so like they must not realize that there are more high ends, then. right? or else they surely would not be so casual about this

holy shit?!

just how thorough was this investigation?? I really need to stop underestimating the heroes huh. should have learned my lesson after Kamino. these guys do their homework. it’s just that there’s always some one last thing that they failed to account for

so what is it going to be then in this case? Tomura is the one controlling them now? shitttttt

oh god. yeah, Miruko’s just casually kicking down the mortuary door and she’s all “we know who’s controlling them!” so I assume they believe that it’s Ujiko. which is honestly what I myself assumed up until about ten seconds ago, so fair enough

SDKFJLSKHGLK THERE IT IS

hot. a. f. just like I said. excuse me sir but there are laws against smoking in a hospital. because you’re smoking. get it. ...it’s because you’re hot. ...yes sir I’m sorry sir I will stop now

so Ujiko is sobbing and screaming “let me go!!” and okay but where is Present Mic? do you see, Mic. this is what I wanted, okay. but it’s all right, I understand that you were upset

ohhhhhhhhhh ffffuuuu

Endeavor with a worried look and lots of dots followed by an exclamation point, and then a closeup of Ujiko’s mouth looking surprisingly sinister as he reiterates for them to let him go. I’M SURE THIS IS ALL FINE. WE’RE ALL FINE. THAT’S OKAY HORIKOSHI, YOU CAN END THE CHAPTER HERE, IT’S GOOD. WE GOT LIKE WHAT, EIGHT PAGES? THAT’S PLENTY, REALLY

FUFFFFFFF NO MIRUKO DON’T GO FLYING INTO THE VOID! THE VOID IS BAD

HOLY SHIT

jesus christ. Miruko does the exact same thing as Katsuki where she sees a wall and she’s all “FUCK YEAH.” goddamn. it honest to god gave me a boost of confidence even as I watched her announce that THE NOUMU ARE DOING THE EXACT FUCKING THING SHE JUST SAID THAT THEY WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO DO

and also that is 100% a black Noumu there on the right side. so confirmed, the big guns are here too

HOLY SHIT TIMES TWO

THIS FUCKING HOSPITAL REALLY HAD THE FUCKING ASTEROID WORM FROM EMPIRE STRIKES BACK IN THE FREAKING BASEMENT, AND YOU ALL COULDN’T FUCKING DETECT THAT?? GET BETTER DETECTING TECHNOLOGY YOU DUMB HEROES

but nice save, Aizawa!! I personally would not have had such quick reflexes upon being confronted by a giant monster lunging out of the floor to stick out its multipronged DRILL TONGUE WHICH IS ALSO ITS BRAIN, haha. can someone please check on Horikoshi to make sure he is doing all right. I have some concerns about the mind that drew this

holy shit the drill tongue Noumu is actually drilling into Ujiko. like there’s blood and stuff

-- SHIT

THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE THE DAMN GOGGLES YOU ASSHOLE!! “BUT MAKESTE YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WANTED ME TO TAKE THEM OFF SO THAT I COULD LOOK HOT.” WELL JUST LOOK AT HOW WELL THAT TURNED OUT! THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER LISTEN TO ME

(ETA: well it turned out not to matter BUT STILL.)

lmao Endeavor looks so fucking mad

“THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE THE DAMN GOGGLES YOU ASSHOLE.” I know, right?!

...aaaaaand this is happening

lol. good job @blessedgirthma you called it. it’s a clone! hahaha, fuck

and so the bad man lives to see another day. bets on who will eventually be the one to take him out? just remember how long that list is. lots of enemies, Ujiko. you’ll get yours

but right now I guess we have some other things to worry about

by the way we best pray to god that it was Twice who made that clone and not Ujiko himself, because if Ujiko has managed to replicate that ability on top of everything else, we can truly kiss the world goodbye

but anyway! so that’s Noumu!Tomura confirmed then, in my book. and there are the 11! does this mean they’re not at the hospital?? all I know is they had better not be out on the outskirts of the city where my babies are

also is Ujiko talking to himself here. it almost seems like his words are coming out of the clone’s mouth. but Twice doesn’t have that kind of clone puppeteering ability. so then who is this guy bragging to. -- oh my god can he see us

lmao he’s plopping into his science chair and zooming halfway across the room

don’t misunderstand me though, one panel of being super relatable does not make up for a lifetime of horrific and nauseating crimes

-- THERE ARE MORE VATS!!! HOLY SHIT

THERE ARE MORE VATS. THERE ARE MORE VATS

there is at least one more row than I recall seeing in that previous chapter way back when. so even more high ends. in addition to the 12 (11 considering Endeavor subsequently fried one) we previously saw

and also I just realized, he did say “this” hospital. meaning he is still in the basement? so these guys are still right under their noses, then? oh god oh god so much to process and all of it is terrible god

GAAAAAAASPPP

MILADY!!!!!

holy shit. you guys. what the fuck. the hell was All Might thinking going to U.A. to pick a student successor when Miruko was right fucking there. like I’m just saying??

and also, fuck me he is getting away

OH MY GOD

SHE FUCKING MURDERED POOR JOHN-KUN JUST LIKE THAT WHAAAAAT. YOU GUYS I CAN’T BELIEVE MIRUKO IS THE NEW MAIN CHARACTER OF BNHA, TIMES ARE WILD

lmao and that’s the end of the chapter. holy shit. all I need is for her to say “I am here!” and I’m set. I leave it in your capable hands. why was she not in charge to begin with. number five hero my ass!! smdh for real though guys lol

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park-thatasshere · 5 years

Text

With A Face Not Even A Mother Could Love

Facials was by all means

the last thing you had in mind

Featuring: Jungkook Genre: Smut (facials) Word Count: 2.6k

m.list

A/N: Just dropping in to say hi. Thank you so much to @chimmysdick for being a pillar of support with my craft and just life in general. This fic is of course nc-17 so read at your own risk but please enjoy.

Should you really be thinking this with him so close to you? Fuck, should you be thinking about this at all?

It was a nice gesture for him to take time out of his Friday night to come help you do some last minute cramming, but how did he expect you to focus when he’s wearing that Tommy Hilfiger cologne he knows drives you crazy?

Okay, he doesn’t know it drives you crazy...but he should by now with all the squirming and squi-

“___, is something wrong?”

“...No why do you ask?” Your face heats up, further succumbing to the guilt of being a complete horndog.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh I’m sorry what was the question?”

“I asked which bone marrow is considered to be life saving.” At this point Jungkook doesn’t seem amused in the slightest.

You rack your brain trying to skim through your memory of which one your professor emphasized on multiple occasions only to draw a blank. “Leukocytes?”

Jungkook visibly deflates, “That’s not even an option.”

You give him a comical smile topped off by a lazy shrug of your shoulders. “Look ___, I really want to help you but if you’re not feeling up to it we can try this again some other time.”

“No, I’m sorry I’ve just been...distracted is all.” You close your eyes in resignation flinging yourself onto the floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You keep your face buried into your arms debating on whether or not you should profess your frenzied desire to have his cock beat your pussy black and blue. “Not really,” is what you settle on.

He gently shuts the textbook and places it on the table, muscles rippling underneath his white T-shirt with the action. “How about we take a break and order something to eat or something.”

He doesn’t know what’s bothering you but one thing is for sure, whatever it is, food will most certainly take your mind off of it.

You nod in agreement, whipping your phone out to order take

While Jungkook heads for the bathroom, you take a moment to think back to how the both of you got to this moment on your couch.

You knew of the whimsical Jeon Jungkook for quite some time before you were formally introduced to him. Every mention of him is filled with nothing less of pure adoration, admiration, and lust. He is very successful in his academic career. In order to keep him, and his high test scores, eager to learn, his high school had to bump him up two grade levels, or so the tale goes.

You’d be a fool not to believe it though,you are two years his senior and you’re learning more from him than he ever could from you, other than how to be a functioning alcoholic.

You never thought much of the snot nosed kid in the beginning other than what you’d heard. But he’s shown his worth on many of your shit faced nights stranded at parties, as well as cramming sessions. Much like the one you’re having now, hours before a really big final.

He was alright to you, you soon concluded.

More than alright even, but that makes you wonder. What is such a clean cut wonder boy hiding behind all those manners and gentlemanly gestures?

You peek over your shoulder for any signs of movement coming from the bathroom door. Assuming Jungkook is hosting D-day in your toilet, you commence to sneak a peek at what lies within his laptop.

You open up the browser and click on history. Skimming through the list only finding a seemingly endless list of research material and obscure google searches. After a minute more of snooping through the list, a light bulb goes off.

P r i v a t e browser

Your fingers hurriedly brush over the mouse pad, opening up the obscure browser only to see a screen filled with a plethora of open tabs

PORNAGRAPHIC tabs.

You click on random ones frantically loading up each web page to take a gander at what Jungkook spends late nights beating off to.

Cumshot facial compilation. Cheating gf takes biggest facial of her life. Premium bukkake. Sloppy face fucking. Bukkake gangbang.

The list is very telling on his foreplay preferences, but facials? Facials are by all means the last thing you had in mind. Actually, you don't know what you had in mind. Maybe something on the more purer spectrum, like mild nipple play. You did not expect Jungkook to be into such a degrading kink.

You’re stuck in a reverie of conflicting emotions. A part of you wishes that Jungkook is the sweet innocent boy he portrayed around school, having never been kissed and what not. A pure virgin. While the other half of you was silently relieved that maybe he wasn’t so prudish after all. In fact, a straight freak.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts with the clicking of the bathroom’s door lock and a hushed chorus of swear words. You slam the laptop shut completely mortified at being caught snooping.

You’re both left speechless, but then again what can really be said under these circumstances. You weren’t sure exactly what he saw but you damn sure knew you were not sticking around for the fallout.

“Actually I think I’m going to hit the hay, I’m not feeling too well.” He gave an apologetic smile.

“Oh! Is it a fever?” He’s reaching a palm for your forehead before you even have time to step away and your reflexes cause you to smack his hand away. Way to make the situation a lot more shitty.

“Uh, yeah well goodnight. I’ll let myself ou-” you don’t even give him a chance to finish his statement before you head to your room, slamming the door behind you.

He ponders over the post bathroom break exchange before he’s back to packing away his things. “I wonder why she was in such a hurry to shut my laptop.”

Upon opening his laptop, his entire face flushes at the contents he’s faced with. Pornhub, wide open and anything but discreet. After putting the pieces together he becomes completely mortified, moreso because he was sporting a half chub in spite of all that had transpired. He wastes no time in leaving your apartment in complete shame at what you must think of him.

Little does he know that you’re pressed up against your bedroom door entirely enthralled with salacious thoughts of his cock drilling your throat.

There are no texts. No calls. No messenger birds being sent two and fro. Absolutely nothing over the span for a week and a half.

You yourself vowed to stay away from the boy, in hopes your lust for him would fizzle out.

It didn’t.

You wish you were better at defusing situations and being the bigger person. That’d make it a lot easier to march right up to the onyx haired bow and flick him in his perfectly proportionate forehead for not texting you andohmygodjungkookisstandingrightfuckingthere.

Of course he’d be here, you coerced him to volunteer to present a booth with you to keep you company. For extra credit, of course, not that he needed it but you sure did. You remember when your professor eagerly spoke about the Convention, droning on and on about how we would greatly benefit from attending. Then slapping down a clipboard down onto her podium with a sign up roster on it. You pleaded and begged Jungkook to sign up with you, even using the cheap “there’s gonna be free food and booze” line.

He’s looking sharp, and you want to dissipate into water vapor because you comparatively look and feel like a dirty napkin.

He’s wearing a dark button up, sleeves rolled in a relaxed manner, with semi-tight slacks to match. His belt cinches to his waste, only emphasizing his cute ass. His hair haphazardly drapes over his forehead and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this damn sexy.

Clearly you’re staring for too long because the burn of your eyes pulls his attention from the conversation presented to him and directly towards you. The eye contact is brief before he whips his head around redirecting his attention to the couple seemingly immersed in the stimulating discussion before them. You watch him exchange a few pleasantries with them before he sets his drink to the side and walks off.

Your feet are frantically speed walking through the cigar smoke and stench of hard liquor before you can even register or piece together what you’ll say once you catch up to him.

You find him slumped down on some god awful read pleather couch in one of the spare conference rooms, head in hands.

“Who said you could just waltz away whenever you pleased. You still have an hour and a half on your shift.” You chastise all in good fun.

His head jumps up at the sound of your voice and he visibly starts to clam up. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

You flop down next to him, a bold move on your part, before speaking up. “About last Friday…” You trail off.

“I know. You must think I’m disgusting.” He’s back to sulking.

“Nooo, why would I think you’re disgusting?”

“Because...of what you found on my computer.”

Now it's time for you to go flush. He knew this whole time!?

You’re actually hot from the sheer mortification that he knew you knew.

“You must think I’m a complete pervert.”

“Being a pervert isn’t always a bad thing, I like perverts.” First attempt and consoling was a fail.

“You what?” His brows furrow at your strange statement.

“I like perverts? Besides, have you ever even tried giving a facial?”

“I mean no, I’ve only ever been with one girl but she was pretty much a one sided lover. I never really got to experiment other than missionary and painful blowjobs.”

“Do you want to? Right now?”

His eyes grow to the size of saucers. This was definitely a proposition. Something seemingly straight from one of his porno’s. Wait! He needs to humble himself, he can’t just use his close friend like some kind of gloryhole can he?

“I don’t think this is a good idea ___-”

“Shut up kid, I’ve been craving your cock for a week and a half and I refuse to practice self control any longer.” And with that you drop to your knees before him and spread apart his legs to make room for yourself. You stare at him expectantly for a few moments until he gets the hint and hurriedly unzipped his pants and slips both his pants and boxers seamlessly down the length of his thighs.

Your eye to eye with his weeping red tip. The first thing that comes to mind is big, you were excited to finally get a hearty helping of his dick.

It jumps toward you, an invitation to welcome him into your silky throat. You haven’t tasted cock in a while and the scent alone sends your senses into a frenzy.

“I like you!” He rushes out in a hurried exhale. You flick your eyes up to see his visage marred in a scarlet hue. It tickles your ego to know that the ripened Jungkook feels so small in your presence, even with his hefty cock in your view.

Awkward silence fills the space between the both of you before you realize he’s probably expecting an answer.

“...I like you too Jungkook”, another awkward pause “I’m sorry I’m not used to explicitly expressing my feelings. This,” you worry your lower lip and gesture to the current situation, “usually suffices.”

You don’t spend time dwelling on the formalities.

His cock is anchored with a tight grip, you poke your tongue out to administer skittish licks along the ridges and veins of his member. Jungkook let’s out a needy whimper, one that has you shivering.

You finally open your mouth just wide enough to slip the head of his cock in. You suckle on it as if it held life's secrets. While one hand gripped his thick cock, the other reached down to cup his balls. Your teasing ministrations never halted as you dribbled all over the tip whilst gently rolling his balls. You could feel his testicles tighten and that was just the beginning of his end.

His head is thrown back, thighs flexing with every particularly hard suck.

“P-put it in please, your mouth.” His eyes are glossy, voice coated in a whine.

Without further adieu you take the whole of him into your slick mouth. The initial stretch is a bitch to get used to as he fills you fully but once your saliva starts to pool on his cock you’re able to slip him in even further.

You bob your head up and down to the sound of soft melodic moans, periodically stopping to gargle his balls into your mouth. His jaw is clenched in uninterrupted ecstasy and your pussy throbs at the sight alone.

Jungkook gets adventurous, reaching over to grip your hair before shoving you down on his cock once again. He was encased in a warm frenzied haze of lust, wanting nothing more than to coat your pretty little face in his emission.

He abruptly stood to his full length, never leaving your mouth as he walks you over to an open space within the room. His fingers tug at your soft tresses even tighter as he starts face fucking you. Slick sloppy tell tale signs of the pummeling your throat was getting resounded around you.

He’s thrown all caution to the wind as he thrusts his hips forward at a steady pace. “F-fuck ___, you’re good at this.” You press your tongue against his shaft, to garner another response.

You eyes water at the ache in your jaw at the sudden intrusion, trying to alleviate the discomfort by breathing through your nose. In this moment the only thing you’re both focused on is getting him to his release and it shows with the way you start bobbing your head in time with his thrusts, allowing him to bottom out in your tiny little throat each time.

His fingers falter around the strands of hair so tightly wrapped around his knuckles, betraying him.

“I’m so-“ Jungkook breathed raggedly, “So...close.”

He casts his gaze down to you, eyes dropping with pleasure and mouth left agape for many labored breaths and moans to be escape.

His pace quickens, grunts becoming more apparent. Not even a second later he’s pulling your hair to release you from his dick.

One hand tugging on a fistful of your hair while the other is rapidly jerking him to his orgasm. Your eyes are closed while you give him a brilliant smile. Soon enough you feel the spurt of hot, sticky cum land on your face.

You open your eyes to see Jungkook completely captivated by his handiwork. Your mouth is wet with saliva, a mixture of spit and cum coating your lips and dripping down your face and cheek.

“How do I look?”

“Like a fucking goddess.”

He helps you up, ushering you over to the couch before he’s pressing up against your back suckling on the side of your neck. You lose your footing and trip onto the couch, on all fours mind you.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, just like this... okay?” It was really a question but the concern on his face said otherwise.

You nod your head and just as he's about to lift your dress there is a loud knock on the door.

“Jungkook? Are you in there? Some of our guests would like to speak with you.” A muffled voice who you believe to be your professor spoke on the other side of the door.

“Better get going wonder boy.” You catch the giggle that threatens to spill from your mouth.

He waves your comment off, begrudgingly stepping out of the door and you can’t believe just how nice his ass looks in those pants.

#bts #btsvocalnet #jungkooknet #btswritersnet #bts smut #bts scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook #kpop scenario #kpop smut #jeon jungkook bts #jeon jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook

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fratresdei · 4 years

Text

A Letter to My Beloved White Friends, by Karla Johnson

Karla Johnson, a member of my spiritual direction training cohort from back in the day, has graciously given us permission to share powerful, needed words from her blog this month. Find the original post in the comments, and subscribe to her blog to read more letters to come. The original text is reproduced below.

Dear White Friends:

You are lost. “Hurt, mad, insulted, grief-stricken and enraged more than I can say,” as my dear white uncle said. You don’t know what to do. You want to help—and of course you do. You’re a good person. This is my attempt at sharing guidance, from someone who holds both black and white inside of my skin.

I love you, my dear white friends. Let’s start there. You are my brothers, sisters, best friends, teachers, cousins, nieces, and nephews. You and I belong to one another. I am also an African American woman, by bloodline, culture and identity. African Americans are my brothers, sisters, best friends, teachers, cousins, nieces, and nephews. I was born with inherited racial trauma. (Inherited trauma is a thing—you can look it up). I have hordes of relatives, but only one who is a cop; a close cousin, who wears his badge with honor, excellence, and commitment. He’s also black. I pray for him often during times of (visible) racial unrest, and break into scared tears every time I pray. My heart, through an odd positioning, spans the width of our collective racial anguish.

Still, there is something deeper than any other identity I carry, with the exception of my faith. I am a mother. A black mother of two young black men whom I carried, painfully labored into birth and successfully raised through some very tough times. Any mother can understand that my children are my greatest pride and my deepest love. So please understand that racialized violence hits me different.

My dear white friends, most of you don’t know what to do. Here are some tips, from your white-skinned black sister:

I want you to imagine witnessing a terrible car accident. Then imagine walking up to one of the wrecked cars, finding someone who is still bloody and injured, and saying: “watching you go through that trauma was hard for me. Can you please give me some emotional support?” That’s what you do when you ask black people to help you deal with your angst. The phrase I’ve been using these past few days is this: “As a black woman, I’m struggling to take down my own bitter cup. Please, dear white brothers and sisters, stop trying to pass me your internal poison so that you can find relief.” If you’ve done this, you didn’t know what you didn’t know. You’re forgiven. But please stop.

If you want to understand, do some homework. That can be as easy as a google search. There are essays, blogs, books and articles galore which can help you get a better feel for what’s happening.

If you have black friends (or friendly black acquaintances) please check in on them without agenda. If that feels strange, imagine that they lost a distant-but-important relative, because that’s what it feels like. Dear white friends, you know how to offer comfort during loss, so there’s no need to be intimidated. Just send a simple text: “Just checking in. Is there anything I can do?” or “Thinking of you. Are you okay?” Let them know that they are more than a headline to you. If you are a praying person, pray for them and let them know.

Don’t talk about the issue or the headlines unless you already have a strong friendship with that person. It is awkward and unwelcomed to bring discussions of racism to a random black person in the grocery store or some such thing. Just like you, all they want to do is pick up their eggs and get home. Part of the difficulty of being in black skin in America is constantly being recruited as teacher, sounding board and priest to white people’s racial angst. Please let black people go about their days without such recruitment.

When you interact with black people, for the love of God, stay white. Nothing is more insulting than watching a Caucasian person try to use language, inflections or gestures which are not theirs in some awkward attempt to prove—with neon signs—that they are not a racist. I know this sounds strange, but black people know you are not black. They can tell just by looking. If you don’t want to look like a racist, be yourself, no matter who you are addressing.

Embrace the fact that you are a good person on the wrong side of an ugly history. You would never pull a trigger on a black person just because they are black. But, like me, your ancestors built this system. People who look like you continue to perpetrate this horror. That doesn’t make you guilty, that makes you and I unwilling recipients of an ungodly inheritance. We can’t keep pretending that isn’t true. The good news is your heritage also gives you tons of power to affect change. Make peace with what your (and my) people have built. Then consider—-from your position of lament—affecting change, even if that change is in your own perspective and social circles.

If you experience anger against you because you’re white, learn to deal with it without lashing out or diving into shame. I’m sorry, my dear white friend, but you must let go of the idea that you can be part of the solution without having your sense of innocence disrupted or called into question. And if you don’t have any tools to absorb feeling falsely accused because of the color of your skin? That is something a person of color may be able to help you with, if you are sincere in wanting to learn and can come to the question with neither defensiveness nor agenda.

Your guilt and your shame doesn’t do the tiniest bits of good to anyone, black or white. Work through it. It’s not helping.

Be aware that you are losing something personally important to you. You hate the circumstances, but as the scales of justice try to right themselves, you are losing your sense of security and your assumed power base. That loss is real. And eventually, that loss will make you feel threatened. (Even as you remain outraged against the racism.) That doesn’t make you a monster, that makes you a person. But please don’t take those feelings to the cause, and please keep tabs on your own, understandable defensiveness.

Especially in our culture, we hate to admit our own privilege—even to ourselves. I am an embarrassed participant in this dysfunction, and have often struggled to admit (much less claim) my own privilege. Please confront the lie that you are not privileged because, like me, your privilege is enormous.

You need not feel accused nor ashamed nor “less-than” because you hold privilege. You have also struggled, endured hardships, worked hard, and suffered. You’ve known pain. Your privilege does not detract from, lessen, or mitigate that reality. You get to own your story without excuse, no matter what privileges you’ve been afforded. You need not defend anything.

As a Caucasian brother recently said to me, “white people murdering black people is not a black problem. It is a white problem.” I can add nothing to his words.

Imagine walking into a room full of black people, where you are the only one with white skin. Then imagine someone bringing up your skin color, and having the whole room swivel to stare at you, hoping for answers, jokes and/or comment. If you see one or two black people in mostly-white room, please don’t put them in that position. And if someone else does, be willing to speak up and align yourself against the awkwardness. The same goes for social media exchanges.

If you interact with a black person, don’t point out the differing skin tones. Again, they can tell you aren’t of the same race all by themselves. Treat them as a person versus a skin color. Kindness and authentic respect is what transcends differences and puts people at ease.

Don’t let the devil tell you that you have no right to be angry just because you’re white. Of course you should be angry. This is a human story, not a story contained in black skin. Your ethnic background does not cheapen your lament. Your anger is well-placed, valid and necessary.

Black people need your voice, and we need your involvement. Traumatized people do not make the best advocates. Traumatized people—no matter where the trauma comes from—are angry, shut down, and often counterproductive. As long as you leave it up to black people to speak out, you are making unreasonable demands of the group you want to help. Speak up, dear white friends. Step up and speak up. We don’t need you to share our trauma, we need you to stand against what perpetuates the pain.

You can’t crawl into a black person’s skin in order to understand what is going on. You couldn’t possibly know what it is like, and if you could for a moment, it would shut you down. I promise. You must address, understand and process this issue from your lens, your white skin, and your unique perspective.

If you want to help, aspire to becoming the white person who gives other white people a touch-point to their own racialized angst. Be a bridge which helps other white people engage without shutting down or blaming the victims.

Ask yourself what you are called to do. That will look different for everyone. Every bit counts. Just don’t disengage and leave it to the people who are being harmed. We can all do something, as this is our nation.

If you’ve been guilty of any and/or all of the hardships I’ve mentioned, remember you didn’t know what you didn’t know. I know you didn’t mean it—that goes without saying. The only thing we can do is be truthful, be gracious, learn from our circumstances, and move forward. Like Maya Angelou said, “when you know better, you do better.”

You are a good person. Just be yourself, because sincerity goes a long way. Awkwardness and missteps can be forgiven—trust me, black people are used to it. Your genuine compassion and concern are what matter. And your sincere engagement matters even more.

Dear White Friends. I love you. You are my brothers, sisters, best friends, teachers, cousins, nieces, and nephews. You and I belong to one another. Keep being the people who may not understand, but who remain good, decent, and compassionate human beings. Embrace change, and if you want to help, start by taking hold of your own cup—it is plenty bitter enough.

And yes. If this has helped you, please pass it on, using [the link in the comments.]

Sincerely yours, Karla Johnson

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gwoongi · 5 years

Text

𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖺 ♥︎ jeongguk (ft jimin)

𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖺 jeon jeongguk / reader (ft jimin) genre: pornstar au, smut rating: explicit words: 7391

This position is particularly ambiguous; your face is almost gone, only slightly in frame, with the lens zoomed further in to your ass and Jeongguk’s thighs, his ass there but moving as he leans for the lube across the bed. If he wanted, Jimin could pretend the figure beneath Jeongguk was a boy- could be him, if he wanted. He does not want.

a/n: literally nobody asked for this. yes, the namjoon sequel is coming soon, so don’t worry about that :-) it’s time for baby boy jimin to have some fun <3 also this exposes my desire to eat koos ass. its pretty i just wanna nom nom :3

warnings: graphic sexual content, porn themes, fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, rim jobs, sex toys, dirty talk, bisexual jimin, ass eating, really slight blasphemy, overstimulation, anal virginity, daddy kink, mommy kink, koo and y/n are freaky okay, probably an unrealistic interpretation of pornhub livestreams, whore-shaming (?), cock slut shaming (?)

Jimin was bored. With most of the fraternity out for a party that Jimin was sadly not invited to (not that he exactly cares for parties held by Jackson, because let’s be honest, he doesn’t really like the guy), Jimin sat at home on his bed with the telly flicking with a show he cared little about, the pictures talking silently.

“Please tell me you’re going to be home,” Jimin had begged, clinging uselessly to the oversized sleeve of Kim Namjoon, who reluctantly pulled away from his fisted hands and grabbed his coat from behind the door. Sorry, little man, I’ve gotta get out of the house more. “But I’m going to be all alone. I’m the only one who wasn’t invited to that shitty party.” I’ll come home early for you, if you’d like. “I would not like. Just go, get out of my face.”

Namjoon didn’t know what else to say other than sorry, patronisingly running his fingers through Jimin’s hair. Unlike Namjoon, who had already spent two god-awful years at University, Jimin was a newbie, a first year, dipping his toes into waters to figure out which one he liked best. Namjoon shrugged his coat on halfway, tossing Jimin the phone charger he asked for moments prior. Try to entertain yourself, he had said. Watch porn. Hey, I just recently found a new porn duo to watch!

That’s how Jimin found out about koopid, the porn couple that his Big, Namjoon, had been locked in his room jerking off to. With rooms joined by one thin wall, Jimin was unsurprisingly familiar with the channel, never invested enough in doing his own research, mildly sexually frustrated by Namjoon’s rutting mixed with the unnecessarily loud volume of his laptop. If he can help it, Jimin doesn’t usually watch straight porn. He never denies it, but he’s an experimenting bisexual- pretty sure he likes both, and his history of girlfriends and boyfriends throughout high school prove it, but he’s not quite sure where he stands yet, or where he’s comfortable standing. He sits in his bedroom, alone in the fraternity miles away from Jackson’s venue, his laptop blinking on Google waiting for a command to be punched in.

On telly, a re-run episode of Friends comes to an end and Jimin watches with mild boredom as it switches to an advert, advertising a new bleach that is guaranteed to remove 98% of bacteria from inside your toilet. He turns off the telly, sighing and looking over at his laptop, the Google tormenting him with a grin: I know you want to. I know you’re tempted.

Jimin sighs to himself, dragging the laptop over to his thighs and almost guiltily typing the phrase koopid into the search engine. He’s half expecting nothing to really show up, because Namjoon has creative porn taste and they’re probably not that popular. However he is embarrassingly wrong; the search floods with links to lewd videos, the official koopid channel being the top search. On Google Images, he quickly presses and sees the slightly grainy faces of the couple, a picture from Instagram that he sees as quite romantic. The boy holds the girl with his chin pressed into her neck, a smile on his face and the camera not exactly centred. Jimin’s instinct is to coo, and saw “aww”. He’s not expecting much from koopid when he clicks on their channel. It’s just another straight couple having sex, it’s nothing he hasn’t already seen.

His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the fifteen videos, spotting the red button indicating that the channel is currently live. He’s tempted to click in, sit back, see what they have to offer. The livestream title reads “10k thumbs up and i’ll let y/n eat my ass”.

It’s so very tempting, but Jimin pauses with his cursor hovering over a video titled, “first time doing anal with y/n”. The thumbnail is an inviting image of quite possibly one of the nicest dicks Jimin has ever seen in straight porn, the tip red and exaggerated and in preview, the thumbnail moves for a few seconds, showing a small asshole stretch to accommodate the dick, the whole length disappearing. He’s conflicted, half off the bed with intentions to run and get his box. The box, with dildos of every shape and size. When the thumbnail clip loops, Jimin misses it, already on his feet and crouching to get the box from underneath his dresser.

When he gets back to his bed, Jimin notices that his hands are trembling. In the drawer next to his bed is his lube, a strawberry flavour that he’s never indulged with before. Today he will, and he grabs that alongside a dildo that looks uncanny in resemblance to koopid, save the colour being a solid bright purple. He shakily moves it beneath him as he slips out of his jeans, pressing and tightening with discomfort as he looks back at the screen. He wants to feel guilty about this, but there’s nothing to feel guilty about. And, nobody’s home to hear him or see him, and for good measure, his bedroom door is locked.

Once he clicks on the video, there is no turning back. His body trembles as the video begins to play and he’s greeted with the view of a girl on all fours, her head tossed over her shoulder to stare at the camera. She’s pretty, really pretty, already naked for the audience. Jimin stares wordlessly, because what is he supposed to say? On each asscheek, Jimin notices that the boyfriend is particularly ruthless, faded palms still lingering upon the skin that strangely resembles silk, or marble, or soap. He quietly hears the boyfriend mutter a polite introduction, introducing the pair of you to new watchers like Jimin. He hears a Jeongguk and a Y/N, and it’s evident who is who.

Jeongguk shuffles into frame, pressing his hands to each cheek and palming softly. You respond by letting your head fall slightly, rolling the kinks out as Jeongguk sinks deeper on to the bed, until his face is in view. Jeongguk’s smart, and he knows what people like. They like seeing him, all of him and his face and yours, in various positions and conditions. Unlike the porn videos Jimin sees of overly acted situations, where the girl gets caught out after curfew and is punished over a desk, hands bound with the leather of the guy’s belt, Jimin is slightly taken aback at how fast Jeongguk jumps into things- his own cock is out, bulging and huge as expected, and he doesn’t let the audience know what he’s doing. Everybody knows; they can read the title, they can hover the mouse over the timeline and see the frames.

The hand rested upon your right asscheek begins to move in circles, stroking it affectionately as the other hand belonging to Jeongguk slides down the length of your leg. You shudder when his fingers feather across your thigh, twisting inwards to cloyingly play in the warmth. Jeongguk pulls your legs further apart, your cheeks slightly widening with the view of your hole being all Jimin can currently focus on. To the side, Jeongguk grins and chuckles quietly, hot air breathing out of his nose. He likes what he sees, because he’s never been up close and personal with it before. Anal was the promised land that he had not been granted entry to, until today, or rather this morning, when he had rolled over in bed and slipped an arm around your waist, kissing your hair and said, “hey, good morning, wanna do anal later on camera?”

Jimin watches in an expressive silence, timidly stroking his dick as Jeongguk claps his hand against your ass, the sound loud and sharp. A loud moan leaves your lips and Jeongguk pulls apart your cunt from behind, the lips barely visible from the angle but still there, definitely. He idly curls a finger around the wetness, lubricating his fingers. From where he is kneeling, he side-glances at the camera and smirks, holding the inside of your thigh with his left hand and curling his right up, all the way until his one soaked finger tauntingly circles your hole, as if daring to enter, and then slips inside.

The feeling is new, foreign, and you hadn’t anticipated the tight feeling of his finger curling inwards, exploring. Jeongguk lets out a noise of interest at how you shudder, writhing gently and without really noticing, pushing back onto his finger until it entered all the way to the knuckle. Jimin thumbs the head of his dick, silent; Jeongguk marvels at the way you fuck yourself onto one finger, his mouth in an open smile that left his mouth dry. He swallows thickly, impressed.

“Wow, baby girl,” he comments, finally, and Jimin can now hear his voice, “look at how you’re fucking yourself onto my finger. You’re a needy girl tonight, aren’t you?”

You whimper in reply, maybe even say something that Jimin can’t hear.

“Let’s add another one,” Jeongguk suggests sweetly. “You take one like a champion, let’s see if you’re wide enough for two.”

He adds a second, his middle, twisting both fingers in right up to the knuckle. From where the camera stands on a tripod, it gives way to a gorgeous view of your hole, clenching tightly around the digits. Jeongguk laughs warmly, satisfied with the results. It’s close enough for Jimin to hear sounds, the slick and almost sticky sounds of wetness from Jeongguk’s fingers, coated in the thick layer of arousal and lube he had tossed somewhere, an extra coat for ease for the camera. Every so often, Jimin would spot Jeongguk looking at the camera, at the viewfinder to see if you were still in shot. You carried yourself on your arms, your ass and hips raised upwards with your back in what looked like an uncomfortable slope, a position Jimin sympathised being in once or twice.

“Mm, perfect,” Jeongguk says slowly, dragging it out like he did his fingers. They are almost free, until he pushes them back in, practically glowing with pride when you groan out, pushing back onto his knuckles. His fingers sink deeper inside of you, tickling inner walls and finally scissoring, stretching you open in anticipation for a third finger Jeongguk had waiting. You’re tight, tighter than Jeongguk had ever seen you since the first time you had sex together two years ago, that virgin hole Jeongguk had the honour of ripping apart. “You look so perfect, baby. Can you manage a third?”

You nod with effort, “Yes, Daddy.”

“You don’t have to call me Daddy tonight,” Jeongguk offers. He wants this one to be personal, in respect of firsts being mutually taken. You whimper in reply, not in the mood to reply with words. Jeongguk continues a pace with his fingers before adding in a third, letting out a hiss of air at the tightness closing in around his fingers.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” Jeongguk groans to himself between his teeth, ramming his fingers in and out to get a feel for every single space inside of you, “Nobody’s ever fucked your ass like this, have they, baby?”

“No,” you breathe out, trying to look back at him over your shoulder. “Just you, Guk.”

He makes a noise of content, pressing a kiss to your ass and then slapping it with his free hand. You jolt, sinking up and down off his fingers. “That’s right. Only I get to fuck you like this. Fuck- you’re so tight, imagine what it’s gonna feel like with my cock in there.”

“Puh-please, Guk,” you rasp, slumping slightly against this sheets. This time, they’re pale pink, like the colour of unripe strawberries, the stinging colour of your asshole once Jeongguk pulls his fingers out. “Please fuck me already. Please.”

Jeongguk, like always, pretends to think about it. He addresses the audience, finally, by looking back at the camera with furrowed brows, as if genuinely conflicted on if to give in and fuck you. Jimin’s hand is still moving around his dick slowly, his own ass rising off the comforter.

“Alright,” he replies, almost indifferently. He even throws in the shrug of his shoulders, his body oozing with charisma that makes Jimin bite down on his lips to contain a whimper. The intimidation always scares people into desire. “Toss the lube, and move so everyone can see your ass.”

Jimin wriggles uncomfortably, not being able to relieve anything by simply touching himself. Instead, he gapes at the screen, thankful the webcam is covered so his assigned FBI agent can’t laugh at him for being so obviously sexually frustrated, rutting into his own hand as you shuffle across the bed on all fours, still slightly tight around the air as you drop with a slight huff, assigned to the side. This position is particularly ambiguous; your face is almost gone, only slightly in frame, with the lens zoomed further in to your ass and Jeongguk’s thighs, his ass there but moving as he leans for the lube across the bed. If he wanted, Jimin could pretend the figure beneath Jeongguk was a boy- could be him, if he wanted.

He does not want. But, he still imagines, even with you there and patiently waiting for Jeongguk to hurry rubbing the lube across his dick, up and down. Jimin can’t help but gape at the size in Jeongguk’s hand, which is already large and veiny, but he concludes that the bigger hand makes Jeongguk’s cock look bigger, scarier, more erect. It’s so big that when Jeongguk lets go, it stands to a salute up to his stomach, the tip nearing his belly button. Jimin groans, reaching behind him for his own lube and the dildo that he almost forgot about.

It’s as if Jeongguk is giving Jimin time to prepare; instead of being ruthless and shoving his dick inside the tightness, Jeongguk pulls apart your cheeks with fingers and licks around your hole, collecting up the juice he left there from his fingers, a mixture between the cherry and the sweet taste of your pussy, the juices clinging to be tasted. He groans into you, taking kitten licks around the rim and taking extreme pleasure in the way you moan against him, your ass square in Jeongguk’s face.

Jimin hurriedly coats the dildo in lube, almost excessively, licking up the remains off his smaller fingers. He stares at Jeongguk’s hands in longing and his teeth gnaw on his lips as you moan relentlessly, tight and girly breaths of pleasure that Jimin never thought he’d like hearing. Jeongguk’s own cock twitches against his stomach, the length staring at Jimin and being the only thing Jimin can keep his eyes on.

He fiddles with the dildo, feeling his face warm with a crimson heat. On the other side, Jeongguk pulls away from your ass and kisses your right cheek again, muttering something in a low voice that the camera barely picks up. I love you, he says, between quiet pursed lips. Jimin wants to cry.

Jeongguk moves your hips, deciding on where he’s going to have you. Eventually he decides to have you at an angle where the camera captures your hole perfectly, clenching around nothing, surely with enough frame space to capture his cock moving in and out. It can’t be that different from doggy, from one of your first videos on the channel where he took you from behind with a fistful of hair. You were blonde back then. Jeongguk and Jimin both prefer the dark colour you have presently, and the way it makes your face look brighter, adding an element of sensuality that Jimin wasn’t sure was possible for a head of hair.

“You took my fingers so well, baby,” Jeongguk tells you, prodding your ass with his hands as if preparing himself for the penetration, “but let’s see how well you take my cock.”

As always, Jeongguk wastes no time. It was like he suddenly feared that the lube around his cock would dry, for he prods your entrance with the tip, hissing softly as he pushes it in. He begins slow, as if stomping his foot on ice to see if it would hold, and then, once the tip is in, Jeongguk grunts and rolls his shoulders, the bottom of his back clenching with muscles on display until he finally sank his whole length inside you. He groans, his hands gripping your waist line with vigour and he slowly began to move his hips, moving in slow waves in and out. His movements were experimental yet professional, still candid enough for Jimin to almost believe this tape was amateur. Grabbing the dildo situated under his hips with one hand, Jimin, without looking away from the screen, aligns it with his ass and slowly sinks down on it, his head immediately rocking back at the feeling.

Jeongguk becomes more familiar with the feeling and the movements, understanding that an asshole really was no different to a pussy, except the feeling inside and the placement. To him, and to porn, it was just another hole to shove his cock into. He moves quicker, finding the strength inside of him to clench your hip-bones and pull them down onto his cock, the rhythm so consistent that after a few short seconds, the clapping arises.

Jimin watches from his bed, his reflection slightly visible in the screen, the pathetic view of him bouncing up and down on the horrendous purple dildo. He stares long and hard at Jeongguk’s fat cock, his mouth practically watering at the way it fits perfectly in your hole, each thrust coming out with a wet and slick look, the vein bulging. Jimin wants to finger his mouth, like a whore, but he resists, instead shyly reaching down and grabbing his cock as Jeongguk maintains a pace.

“You’re taking my cock so well, princess,” Jeongguk grunts. Usually, he can keep his composure, keeping up the act of the boyfriend who likes to fill the boots as the boss. Tonight, however, he’s sloppy, slacking on duty. He’s a boss neglecting his reputation and duties, his head filled with sawdust as he focuses on your ass, and the tightness of it around his dick. For a while, it feels almost hard to move, the need to stand still and let it become familiar overwhelming but at the same time dangerous. He wouldn’t want to upset the ratings. Literally, he can’t afford it.

The stretch burns, your eyes rolling back with powerful pleasure and your body feeling as though it was a clump of jelly, wobbling and sliding around on a plate, each tip sending you closer to the edge. You moan with almost every thrust, the way everybody likes it, and from underneath your armpit, you spot Jeongguk’s thighs, the occasional glimpse of his balls slapping against the backside of your pussy.

“Yeah? Tell m-me,” you gasp out, crooning to him. “Tell me how good I feel around your big dick.”

Jimin hadn’t been expecting a sudden role reversal, and by the sounds of it, neither had Jeongguk. Without having any prior experience fucking with koopid, Jimin reckons this may be the first time on record that Jeongguk has been dominantly submissive. What he lacks in vocals he clearly makes up for with physical ability, your words sending him into a rutting fit of fast pace, his dick hitting sensitive spots inside of you. Jimin whimpers to nobody, to Jeongguk, to you, as the dildo brushes his prostate, rubbing against his insides. It’s big, and Jimin closes his eyes to pretend it’s Jeongguk.

He’s so caught up in the fantasy that he can physically imagine the feeling of Jeongguk’s large thighs on either side of his body, his hands that are big and veined holding his tiny body like he was a prized China doll. He wants it so bad, he pictures it perfectly. The thought sends a ripple of tingles throughout his body, a rush of erotica to his cock and it throbs, it hurts and it twitches, erect, touching his stomach. Jimin fingers around his slit, other fingers lost in the short wisps of hair, meanwhile the other hand holds the dildo in place so it doesn’t slip out.

“Mm, baby, you feel so good around me, you’re so good,” Jeongguk praises, his voice unusually breathy and lost, as if he’s struggling. Perhaps he is; it makes Jimin cry out with pleasure as the dildo hits the spot, Jeongguk’s dick inside of him hitting his good spots, making little Jimin horny. “Shit. Your tight little hole is making Daddy feel so good.”

So he’s bringing Daddy back, Jimin thinks. He feels guilty suddenly at the lack of attention he’s giving you, and you’re delivering a spectacular performance, the moans high enough to sound like his own, when he likes them to be. He focuses on that, pretends everything about you is him. For a moment, Jimin eyes the shape of your tits hanging underneath you. He makes a promise to himself that next time, he’ll watch one where you’re the star. You’re too gorgeous for him to ignore you, to shrug you off as if you don’t matter. Without your ass, he wouldn’t be feeling this good.

“Yeah?” you pry. “Do you like fucking my ass?”

“Mm, I love it,” Jeongguk agrees. He lets one hand go off your hips and snakes it underneath, where no doubt, he’s playing with your cunt, threading his fingers through the wetness as if it’s the same casualness as flicking through the newspaper. You barely bat an eyelid, grinding further onto him. “I love the way you make me feel. Always so good for Daddy. Hm? Huh, look at you.” He thrusts sharply up, and you cry out with surprise. “Look at how your ass takes my cock. You’re such a little cockslut, so desperate for my dick.”

“Yuh-yes. You’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Jeongguk replies cockily, regaining his own slipping dignity. Jimin doesn’t care if he plays the role of dominant Daddy, or submissive slut. He just cares about the fake cock up his ass and the computer screen.

Underneath Jeongguk, you whimper out a moan, that leaves pitifully like a whisper, practically unheard. You want to scream, tell everybody and the neighbours about how good it feels, how full you feel with Jeongguk’s dick inside your ass, going so far inside that the air is knocked out of you. Rendering you speechless, almost. In fact, you’re so cock drunk that you have nothing of use to say, nothing erotic to mutter to your boyfriend as he relentlessly pounds into you, feeling his own energy bite back. He slaps your cunt once when he notices you’re being quiet, silent, and that’s not good for ratings. Or for him- Jeongguk likes to hear you, he likes to hear whatever nonsense is coming out of your mouth as he fucks your brains out, to the point where you can’t even make sounds, let alone sentences.

Jeongguk knows your body as well as he knows his own, spotting the signs of an approaching orgasm. He had every intention to deny it, finding a tremor of satisfaction at the thought of seeing you crying, begging violently to cum, please, Jeongguk let me cum. He can hear it if he focuses. But it’s the first time he’s ever been a big boy and put his dick somewhere else besides your cunt and your mouth. It’s special. He wants it to be.

He moves, his dick moving with him inside of you, brushing against sensitive spots that are still unexplored, like levels waiting to be unlocked in a video game. As Jeongguk shivers and readjusts, Jimin lets out his first physical sob, not noticing he’s milking his second orgasm of the night. When was the first? He thinks it was when you took control, those dirty words coming out of your mouth. Like an angel taking sins from the Devil, like a nun hiking her dress above her hips to flash her cunt to the Father. Erotic. Sinful.

“Are you close, princess?” Jeongguk asks sweetly, his voice not loud but also not too quiet, a soft volume that the camera picks up well enough.

“C-can’t hold it much longer, baby,” you admit to him, trying to see him over your shoulder. The sex is heavy, holding you down in restraint. “Can I cum again?”

“Again?” Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. Jimin practically spits out a moan. The audience like it when Jeongguk and yourself break out of character. It reminds them of who you are, reminds them that you’re in love. You’re listed in the Verified Couples category, so the audience have got to be looking for the love somewhere. “Ah, greedy girl.”

“I am, I’m so greedy, so selfish,” you splutter. “Daddy makes me feel so good. I wanna cum again, just for you. Juh-just for Daddy.”

Jeongguk makes an elevated noise, as if he’s just been told something he didn’t know, like he’s been secretly given knowledge nobody has, Chinese whispers.

“You’ve been so, so good for me,” Jeongguk says, “so patient. Your ass is fucking perfect, baby. Just wanna fuck it all damn day.”

Gladly, you moan to that. Jimin feels his cock throbbing in his hand, the tip so sensitive that if he were to brush it with his hand, he might cry. It’s red, and abused, but ready for more, he can feel it. His balls are swelling- he wants to be fucked so badly. He wants to feel a dick inside of him, be filled up with cock, have a warmth around his like Jeongguk has. Nothing about koopid makes him feel different sexually other than the fact that Jimin has never been so entertained with straight porn in his entire life. He wants to thank Namjoon, but thinking about Namjoon is too dangerous right now. Jimin might spend too long thinking about him, and that would do him no good. Somewhere along the way, the dildo changed from Jeongguk’s cock to Namjoon’s, but only for a split second, until Jimin forced the thought away.

“Cum inside me?” you ask sweetly, finally finding the strength to pick your head up and glance at Jeongguk over your shoulder. He nods, a smile on his face and you match it, only briefly and the camera doesn’t capture it anyway. You lean back down, gathering every last breath of energy by pushing your ass up higher for Jeongguk. He hums appreciatively, spanking you as thanks.

“Every time I spank you from now on, I want you to thank me,” Jeongguk explains, preparing for the build up to the end, “I want you to say, thank you Daddy. Can you do that for me, angel?”

“Yes,” you reply with a newfound determination, that drips from your voice confidently. Jimin wriggles his hole around the dildo. His ass is so sore, overfucked, but he can’t get off.

Jeongguk stops moving around you, steadying you around his cock and then, without warning you, bringing his hand sharply to your ass. It’s the left cheek, the one with the fading prints and bite marks. It’s going to be the cheek that hurts the most, but Jeongguk likes that it hurts. He counts in his head: one.

“T-thank you Daddy,” you squeal after the first clap. It only comes as a surprise because it was one.

Jimin snakes a hand up his body, fingering around his nipple. “Thank you Daddy,” he whispers.

Two.

“Feels so guh-good, Daddy. Thank you.”

Jimin bounces heavier. “Mm. Daddy- feels-”

Three. You cry out. It hurts now, the sting worse because of the way he’s done this recently, spanked your ass until it was red and sore, until you couldn’t sit down.

“Mhmpf! T-thank...thank you, Daddy.”

Jeongguk makes the hum, his signature hum that collects comments. It sends a wave of excitement through Jimin, the sound clear in his ears. He wishes he had his earphones in, so he could hear it closer, pretend Jeongguk was whispering it in his ear. His shy hand toying with his nipple moves to his throat, and it clenches for a few seconds, the choked out string of Daddy crossed with timid Jeongguk’s leaving his lips like leaves blowing in the wind. Then his hand moves up, and he shoves his fingers into his mouth. He can take a couple, his reflex isn’t bad.

Jimin thinks he passes out for a few seconds, because when he opens his eyes, his vision is blurry and he chokes around his fingers, staring at the screen with wide eyes in time for the grand finale. Jeongguk is muttering something that Jimin can’t make out, but he isn’t sure if it’s because of the weird feeling in his body. It’s like he’s underwater. He’s so overfucked that he feels faint, but he’s not giving up on koopid, not now.

Jeongguk groans loudly (again), and thrusts himself inwards for the final blow, and the way his body stutters violently and his thighs tremble, Jimin suspects he’s finished. It’s confirmed when Jeongguk, after a moment of catching his breath, pulls his dick out of your ass.

The sound is splendid, the squelch matching Jimin’s as he lifts himself up off the dildo, saving his asshole in preparation for tomorrow morning’s soreness. Your asshole clenches around the absence, still not fully aware of Jeongguk pulling out, but he falls down to his knees, using both hands to part your cheeks like he would hair if you were being sick, revealing the way his cum rolls out of you again, out and around your thighs. A trail even creeps down, all the way to where Jeongguk suspects your pussy is, pulsing with pleasure. He knows you’ve come multiple times, he can tell by the way you’re slouched, your hips still rutting as if trying to fuck the air, fuck the ghost he’s convinced stalks the apartment.

Jimin quickly presses the back button.

He doesn’t know what has come over him, but he needs to see you both, doing real things, to confirm that what just happened was real. Jimin heads straight for the live feed, wondering if you’ve already hit that 10k. When the tab loads and the screen fills with the sight of your tits in front of the screen, Jimin ignores and looks at the likes. 9,992. It’s so close.

Jeongguk sits underneath you, his chest against your back and his hands somewhere in front of you, curling to cup your sex as you rub against his palm. It’s like feeding a pony, as you jut your cunt on his hand like it’s your life mission to do so. You’re talking, and it’s the first time Jimin acknowledges the fact that koopid is a channel of real people, a real couple, who do and say human things.

“Ah, only five more likes,” you say, tossing your hair to the side and lifting, revealing Jeongguk’s coy expression over your shoulder. He’s biting against your neck, and Jimin can see his tongue running flat against the skin. He hums, as expected, in acknowledgement, his hand moving against your pussy. He dares slide a finger in, to tease, and you hiss with a grin. The likes are on 9,999. Jimin realises he wants absolutely nothing more than to see Jeongguk getting his ass ate on live camera by his girlfriend.

So he clicks like.

A little heart floats up on the screen, like on an Instagram live. When you notice it rising up like a stray balloon, you grin wildly, laughing as Jeongguk thrusts fingers into your pussy, not looking at the screen, sucking solar systems into your neck. Jimin’s username flashes on a banner at the bottom of the screen: 10,000th like from angelchim.

“Woah. angelchim, thank you so much!” you giggle, grinding your ass onto Jeongguk and finally your boyfriend looks up. He squints briefly at the screen, playing like he can’t read the banner, but he can. He sees the likes increasing as more people come in. Someone must have shared the link, or they’re only gaining likes for the title. He smiles.

“Well, a promise is a promise,” Jeongguk says evenly. He looks up at you, his hands creeping up from your waist to your breasts, so perked and slightly small. He cups them and you rise with a pleasurable sensation that sends him giggling under his breath, so oddly childlike that Jimin does a double take, and then Jeongguk releases you, tapping your skin and shuffling into position.

From somewhere in the fraternity, Jimin hears a door open. He pauses and looks towards the door, momentarily missing Jeongguk get on all fours and spread his legs, revealing a well groomed ass that he would have liked to see. It’s clean and gaping; the audience suspect Jeongguk’s no stranger to things being put up there. He looks like the type, one comment laughs. Jeongguk’s a cockslut too.

Jimin wonders silently who else is home. It might be nobody, and he’s hearing things. There’s an even chance that it’s Taehyung, a second year who keeps to himself mostly and studies art, locking himself away on evenings when there aren’t any major parties, painting. He doesn’t remember if Taehyung’s gone to Jackson’s party with everybody else. For a moment, he’s embarrassed that Taehyung, or whoever is home, has heard him fucking himself, but the thought disappears when he turns back to the screen and sees Jeongguk’s ass in the air, a grin on his face as you take the role of Boss.

“I don’t want to hear you calling me Y/N, or baby, or angel, or anything,” you tell him, the voice of authority thick and it makes Jeongguk laugh. It’s just a game to him, for now. It’s only a game until you’ve shoved a finger in there, or licked at it.

Jimin’s weirdly attracted to both sides of you, and both sides of Jeongguk. He’s too tired to fuck himself again, or even entertain the thought of touching himself. So instead, he sits back and hikes the comforter higher up over his body, his cock still out between his legs, semi-hard and sore, and he watches the stream like it’s a tv show on in the background. He’s nonetheless invested, not being able to pull his eyes away.

“Okay,” Jeongguk nods. He gets it. “What should I call you, then?”

You mock his hum. “You can call me Mommy tonight. Okay?”

Jeongguk nods awkwardly against the bed, strangely excited. You’re smothering your fingers with lube, undecided on which one should go inside. It’s all so exciting, taking control. Jimin writhes, too tired to pretend physically but he lets his thoughts wander- Jeongguk lives the most perfect life, an equal balance of fucking his girlfriend and being fucked by his girlfriend. He’s flexible, and excited when you gently prod a finger at his asshole. Jeongguk fidgets, eager and restless. Any other day, he might be cautious of your nails, slightly sharpened at the end, because he likes the way it feels against his skin when you cling to him, digging deep enough to draw blood when he’s done. He likes the marks the next morning. He likes hurting when he knows he’s hurting you.

Jimin gets to hear Jeongguk moan submissively as you slide a finger in, and then another, because Jeongguk and his asshole are bigger, and he’s a big boy. He can take two right away, even when he squirms.

“Mmf, Mommy,” Jeongguk starts. He breaks off, unable to say anything for a few seconds as you wiggle your fingers around inside of him, clawing him and making him shudder. The comments are going crazy. For some reason, they didn’t think you’d follow through and finger him, but as Jeongguk rightly said, a promise is a promise. “Feels so good.”

“God, look at you,” you laugh humorlessly. “Look at how you’re fucking Mommy’s fingers. She’s only just started.”

He pushes his hips backwards. “Luh-like it when you touch me, Mommy. I like it when you finger me like this.”

“Mm.”

As Jeongguk whimpers, you decide to curl your fingers upwards, touching and feeling around inside. It’s about time he gets a spoonful of his own medicine, a taste for his own torture. He likes it, he groans with a smile, his eyes searching to find you over his shoulders and when he spots your eyes on his, he winks.

“You can add a third, Mommy,” Jeongguk offers, faking a sweet tone that has a few commenters giggling. Jimin smiles, too. He wishes he could cum, he wishes he could fuck his hand, but he’s too tired, too fucked out. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Hm,” you reply, “only since you asked nicely. I’ll add a third, and I’ll get right to business. Is that okay, baby boy? Hm?”

“Yuh-yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. My good little boy.”

His ass shifts, wiggling almost in a taunt and you shove your three fingers in without a word of warning. Jeongguk groans with discomfort. He’s had dildos, toys, everything and anything up his ass, both before and after he started dating you. For some reason, the sensation of your three fingers up his ass feels different, not wrong but also not good just yet. He gives you a moment to adjust, finding a rhythm and eventually, after his hips move and he finds himself, he begins to feel the coil in his lower stomach tightening.

“Feel good?” you ask, almost shyly. The last thing you would like is to let him down.

He makes a noise of agreement. “Yes, Mommy. Yes, really good.”

“You sure?”

Jeongguk blinks, quietly saying, as if off the record, “Y/N, this feels amazing. It’s okay.”

Jimin feels like he wasn’t supposed to hear. It’s like when you’re in the loo and somebody comes in, spilling secrets to a friend by the sinks, applying lip gloss in the mirror. You’re not in the conversation, not wanted in the secret exchange.

It puts you at ease, enough for Jeongguk to spread his legs further, shuffling back until his foot accidentally hits your thigh. He grunts, as if blindly finding his way around, and you shuffle right between his legs, following his movements from the video Jimin just watched. You pull your fingers out after a few minutes of fucking, and Jeongguk moans with a high tone when you pull away, moving your hands to his ass cheeks. The camera captures Jeongguk’s face in frame; he looks small, tiny, with cheeks that are round and full now that his face is flush on the bed, his waist looking tinier now it’s arched and in the air. The only thing intimidating about Jeongguk now is his thighs, still large and muscular and scary in their own unique way. Jeongguk whimpers furiously, tears choking at the back of his eyes with a burning sting that is ripped away by a sob when you smile at the camera, and lean in within the same second, pressing a little kiss against his hole.

Jeongguk shudders. You move back in, spreading his cheeks further with your hands and guiding his ass back to your face. You start with licking the rim, like licking sugar and lime from around a shot glass. Jeongguk moans, and fingers the quilt covers. With your tongue flat, you lick at his hole, mocking those same kitten licks as he once did, for a few moments anyway until you both grew comfortable, and you continued licking at his hole, prodding and drooling. He tastes natural, as expected, crossed with the coconut body wash that he used in the shower before the livestream, the same body wash you used at the same time, sharing a shower together with your skins flushed and hot and wet, bubbles as bikinis.

You have to admit to yourself, in a private intermission, that you’ve never eaten an ass before. You had a temporary girlfriend when you were fifteen, because you were hormonal and confused and she was the prettiest girl in school. You’d eaten her out, but it was her pussy, and you’re certain that at some point during high-school, there had been another girl. You can’t remember, your eyes closed as your tongue milks the taste of Jeongguk’s ass. He preens, pushing it against your face slightly with his face buried in the covers.

“Muh-mommy,” he cries. “Oh-fuck.”

“Feel good?” you ask him, your mouth muffled against him. He nods with a moan, although it sounds just like a messy noise, a noise you’d find on a porn soundboard. You smile proudly, being selfish yourself. It feels good knowing you’re the first girl to eat Jeon Jeongguk’s ass, and on camera too, for 28,000 people to see. Jimin sits back with his head on the headboard, staring through heavy half lids. He quite likes this view, this role reversal. He quite likes Jeongguk with his ass in the air. He watches for the finish eagerly, soaking every scene up like the last drops of ice-cream dripping down the cone.

“Ngnh, can’t hold it any longer, Mommy,” Jeongguk wails. He fists the sheets, looking at you underneath his arm. He can’t see your face, only your cunt. He doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter. “Please let me cum.”

“You want to cum?” you repeat. “How badly?”

“S-so badly,” he moans, and his eyes clench closed. “Please. I’ve been good. You’ve made me feel so...so good, Mommy. It-it hurts, p-please-”

You hum tiredly, almost as if what he’s mumbling is boring you. You lick one more time, pushing in as he clenches around the tip of your tongue. It makes you want to laugh, and slap his ass, but he’s already done so much. You grant him the permission he begs to cum, and he does- reaching your hand around to cup his tender balls, Jeongguk clumsily spills on the sheets, the thick white substance leaking not only through the baby pink but also splashing up onto his stomach, getting stuck in the thick curves of his abs. Jimin sighs happily at the sight, high on life and the way Jeongguk squirms like a newborn baby bird who has discovered flight, still clumsy and frantic. His body is shaking, trembling like a glitched video game character, his hips stuttering with his orgasm. He groans with it, and then laughs, perhaps at his own realisation of what just happened, and where and to whom.

Jimin types at the keyboard his first comment: you look absolutely beautiful baby boy, and Jeongguk sees, sending a warmth burning in Jimin’s chest. Jeongguk spots the comments amongst other familiar icons and users and he smiles, his eyes disappearing into pleasant crescent moons.

“Ah, thank you, angelchim. It was an honour getting my ass ate in front of you, I hope you enjoyed.”

“Oh, I did,” Jimin replies breathily, and he’s about to type the comment when a knock thuds at his door. Jimin pauses, hyper-aware of the fact somebody is home. They don’t make another sound, just a knock and then a loud sigh that Jimin recognises to be in the voice belonging to Taehyung, as he suspected.

“Jimin, I’m sorry, I know you’re clearly quite busy-” he emphasises quite, and Jimin wants to vanish into the bedsheets, pretend he’s not home, - “but I text Namjoon about where the hell my phone charger is, and apparently you have it, so if you could please bring it out to me, I would very much appreciate it. You can finish...whatever it is you’re doing in there. I’ll, uh. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

And from the stream, Jeongguk laughs. It feels weird, because given the timing, it’s as if Jeongguk’s laughing at Jimin, at how humiliation creeps up his neck and to his cheeks. Everybody watches porn, he thinks. And he’s in a frat, now. He should wear it with honour, just like Namjoon had told him. He looks over at Taehyung’s charger wrapped in a snake cord by his box and he smiles. Tonight has been unsuspecting, but clearly, way better than anything Jackson could have ever given him.

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

Text

WhatsApp? Part 1. (Steve Rogers x reader)

Description: You've never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone's eye, to be loved. One day, that's about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you.

A/N: It's three a.m. here ok? As always, I can't sleep for shit. And I'm really productive. This idea popped up randomly during listening to one Czech rap song. Oh, shoot, I know. Just enjoy okay?

Warnings: None for now. ;) Some arguing Bucky and Sam and gentleman Steve.

Word count: 2 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme

Series masterlist: H E R E

You couldn’t believe it.

You talked to a guy who was nice, handsome and really well mannered. You were on cloud nine when he wrote his number down and gave it to you with a little bitting his bottom lip.

Little did you know that that guy was a total a-hole. The worst kind of them. He and his fellas just made that freaking number up; and he bit his lip because he holding his laugh, not to appear sexy at all.

But it lined up. The number was reserved for New York. So you were convinced that you got one guy to go to date with and have a nice time. And your friends were totally thrilled when you told them. Literally, no-one could believe it; you were gorgeous in your own way, you were nice but… So naive at times. But now? You have nailed it. You got to score.

And maybe you’ll score with the guy eventually?

That’s what you told to yourself in the morning, sitting on the edge of your bed, writing that number down to add it into your contacts. You almost fell off the bed when a strange name appeared in your WhatsApp contacts.

You didn’t recall him being Steve, but that was alright. You just edited his name in your contacts. Maybe you overheard him yesterday at the club? You tried to study his photo - it was a huge dog, Bernardine you assumed, catching a frisbee with his mouth. You awed. Was that Steve’s dog? Damn, that was cute as hell.

You looked at the name and quote he chose to describe himself on WhatsApp. Steven Rogers: Your patience is the most important thing you have. Don’t lose it. It can bring you great things.

You were in slight awe again - he seemed to be wise and smart. Which only went hand in hand with his good looks you remembered.

Y/N: Hey, handsome. How was the night? Doesn’t your head hurt too much?

You typed with excitement in your moves and then you put your phone down. You were sure that Steve will not text back soon. Only if you knew that you have woken up and completely confused a strange guy on the other end of the line.

———

Steve hummed into his pillow as his phone vibrated on the nightstand he had next to his small bed. He liked to keep thing simple - a small flat with two bedrooms, a kitchen combined with a living room and a small bathroom. It looked exactly how would you expected guy’s nest to look - always a bit messy and it barely felt like home. It needed a woman’s hand badly.

He decided to share his flat with Sam in order not to feel so alone in his flat in Brooklyn. As time passed, they bought a bigger sofa for Bucky. There was three of them living together when any mission was occurring. Steve loved his little place.

Steve searched for his phone with his eyes completely shut. He finally managed to get some sleep after some sleepless nights only to be woken up with a WhatsApp message? Was Tony fucking with him again? It was hardly 8 a.m. But dear God - it wasn’t Tony. It was a completely strange number which popped up and starting a new conversation, having box directly above the Avengers text group.

Steve slowly sat up and frowned.

X: Hey, handsome. How was the night? Doesn’t your head hurt too much?

His first instinct was to block that someone and ho back to sleep. But something temped him to text back. So he went for it. Steve Rogers answered a strange text.

Steve: The night has been pretty good. I slept like a baby, maybe a bit better. My head doesn’t ache, should it? Who am I texting with anyway?

He was proud of himself. That was a huge move forward from a guy that barely could use Google. Tony will be out of his mind when Steve is going to tell him about this. He could text back to a strange person. That excited him.

He waited for a bit, silently listening if the person texts back. There was a silence for ten long minutes; then Steve got up and went to the bathroom. It was a delight to be first in there. Sam took a hilarious time in the room and Bucky always left long brown hair behind him. Using a clean bathroom was a special thing in this flat. And Steve was not willing to let that slide.

The shower was quick, he showered every morning and every evening. Sam always made fun of him being a princess obsessed with his looks. That made him always chuckle. The rest was fast - quick shaving to keep his beard completely under control, a quick brushing of his teeth and then he slicked his hair on its place. It was getting too long - so he knew he would have to visit barber any time soon.

After that, he silently sneaked through the living room, trying not to wake Bucky up from his beauty sleep. He had plenty of time to make breakfast for his fellas. That was his concern until the phone vibrated again. Steve opened the text slowly, expecting everything from it.

He expected a message from an obsessed fan, he expected that that text was only a mistake and that that person clarifies that soon after. Steve embraced himself and prepared himself for seeing something Sam called a ‘nude’, which should be an image of someone’s naked body to please the second side of the conversation.

But it was none of that. It was a normal text and Steve even felt some insecurity from it.

X: Sorry, I can be so dumb sometimes. Lol. My name’s Y/N, we met by the bar yesterday? Did you tell me about the stars? Remember?

Okay, then it was Steve’s time to panic. She had probably mistaken his number with his own. What for god’s sake should he do? What should he text back to that lady? Steve calmed down a bit shrugging his shoulders.

Just as Steve wondered what should he answer, one of his best friends (Sam) walked down the kitchen with his primadonna manoeuvres, looking like a piece of shit.

“I heard that you are making some breakfast,” - Sam sat down on one of the chairs, looking Cap himself down with a playful look. Steve just let it be, watching him, trying to form a question in his head. - “I hope that you will leave some for yo boy Sammy.”

“Stop playing around, Sam. I need advice.” - Steve answered in a firm tone, letting the thing for preparing that delicious breakfast be as they are and sitting opposite to Sam.

“I am a bit overwhelmed that someone like you need help from someone like me.” - Sam playfully wiggled his eyebrows. - “Okay, what do you need, Cap?”

“So, I got a text message from someone this morning,” - Steve started to explain and ignored Sams grinning face. He was implementing much more into the situation than what actually happened. - “And I don’t have a single idea what should I answer that person. Are you willing to help me?” - Steve asked shyly.

“Okay, Iceberg. What’s the issue?” - Sam leaned his elbows into the kitchen table and once he had a very serious expression.

“It is a girl. A miss is more on point I guess. She wrote to me that we have… Met. But I don’t recall that. She must’ve met someone different and then misspelt his number.” - Steve recapped most quickly and Sam hummed, quietly offering Steve that he will read her texts. He let him do that.

“Okay Cap. Are we sure it isn’t some crazy-ass woman fangirl? Like one hundred percent sure?” - Sam looked him in the face and gave him his phone back.

“My fan mail of this sort looks way different. I’ve seen things, Sam. She just seems to be clueless.” - Steve sighed.

“Yeah, I’m getting that vibe too, I was just testing you.” - Sam joked and leaned his body closer to Cap, earning a moron look from Steve. - “And you have obviously passed, gee. Spare me those moral looks. Now, what would I do? I would play along. She doesn’t have a clue of who she is writing to, your formal name isn’t that known. I would be the guy she met. Give it some time, you’ll see if she’s hot, and then, maybe some mingle can happen, if ya know what I mean.”

“First of all, champs.” - A humming could be heard coming from the sofa which meant that Bucky is up as well. - “You two are so fuckin’ loud. Second of all. Do you really want to just lie to that lady, Steve?” - Bucky sat up, looking at those two fellas camping at the table; he looked like a Jesus Christ Superstar as Sam used to call him when the morning came.

“Get those Jesus moral thoughts out of here, Buck. I didn’t say to hurt her, did you even listen to a word I said?” - Sam looked Bucky down with his judging stare and proceeded to frown at him.

“Nobody talked about hurting somebody, birdbrain. But I and Steve were raised with manners back in the good old days. And this isn’t how we would have behaved.” - Bucky leaned into the back of Sam’ chair, looking Steve directly into the eyes. - “You’re the biggest gentleman I know, Rogers. Steve would not lie to a lady.”

“Yeah, Jesus. But he can’t just say Hey! I am Captain America! That girl could just sell his number to some interviewers. Do we want that? No!” - Sam and Bucky had their fight fully on and Steve knew that he can’t stop them at that point. Both were speaking the truth - he was a gentleman, indeed, but he couldn’t say to her who he really is. She must have not connected two dots - not many people knew that Captain’s name was Steve Rogers. Maybe in the sixties, but now?

Yeah, he was taught about in school in history, but usually, the young ones had no interest in it. There was a huge probability that the girl didn’t even know who Steve Rogers was.

“Okay, stop it.” - Steve shouted in panic, looking at those two arguing like a married couple. Bucky and Sam immediately stopped, watching him. - “What should I do?”

“Well, do you want to text with that lady?” - Bucky raised his eyebrows. It was a simple yes or no questions and yet Steve sat there like he couldn’t count to five. Then he nodded lightly.

“I guess so. I don’t know who she is, but she seems to be fun with those nicknames. Let’s give it a shot.” - Steve smiled a bit, relaxed about that situation.

“Listen up, Iceberg. I will tell you what to write.” - Sam leaned closer and started talking.

Steve: I don’t really know what you’re talking about, sadly. Maybe you have met someone different and he didn’t write his number, right? My name’s Steve by the way and it’s really nice to meet you. If you want, I don’t mind to keep this texting on. :)

And he was especially proud about that emoji in the end.

——-

You almost jumped on the phone when it vibrated again. It was from Steve. Did he recall meeting you? As you read the text in your car, you hummed sadly. It wasn’t that man from the bar after all. This was some strange Steve who was well mannered and who was obviously pleased to meet you. That was nice. He wasn’t trying to cut the conversation down, which was lovely as well.

Y/N: Nice to meet you Steve and I’m sorry for waking you up.

And this is how it all has started.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america #samuel wilson #the falcon #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #the wintersoldier #the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #avengers #hello there #enjoy bitches

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hockey-fics · 5 years

Text

Just Once ~ Vince Dunn (Part Two)

Summary: Your history with Vince resurfaces when you both end up back in your hometown over the summer.

Word Count: ~4,200

Warnings: Pretty much the same as part one. Drinking. Language. Talk of, references to, and insinuations of sex (still nothing explicit though).

Part One | Part Three

A/N: Just want to say thank you for all the positive feedback I received on part one, I really hope you enjoy part two! There will be a part three, no guarantees on a timeline for that though.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again,” your friend, Sarah, says as she pulls on her shoes by the front door of your house, leaving to let you finish getting ready for your date. To be completely honest you could barely believe you were doing this again either. “What’s the plan anyway? You going to move back to St. Louis with him?” she asks sarcastically, tying her shoes before standing back up.

“The plan is to go on a date,” you deadpan. “It’s not serious, we’re just having fun.”

Sarah sighs, shaking her head. “Whatever you say,” she tells you with a look of disbelief. That was one thing about Sarah, her inability to ever just say what you wanted to hear. She wasn’t about to act like she thought this was a good idea unless she really believed it. “Why couldn’t you have just had fun with a guy you weren’t infatuated with in high school?”

“I was not infatuated with him,” you defend quickly.

Sarah scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You absolutely were. You had a crush on him from the minute you stopped thinking boys were gross. Do you know how many people I liked as a teenager?” Sarah asks, exasperated as she waits only a second for the possibility of an answer before continuing. “More than I can count. But you, you had one. Vince. And you were so ridiculously in love with him until-.”

“Until he moved to play in the OHL. Yes, I know, I was there.” You fold your arms across your chest, defensively. She was only pointing out everything that had already crossed your mind, but you didn’t like dealing with the reality of the situation when someone else was pointing it out. “We were also sixteen so I’m fairly sure I was never in love with him.”

“Whatever capacity of love you can have for someone as a teenager you had for him. So maybe it’s not the same but it was very real,” Sarah tells you. “Just be careful with this, okay? You don’t need to have your heart broken by the same guy twice.”

Sighing you reply with a simple nod, saying a quick goodbye to her as she heads out the door. Sarah’s words fill your mind as you get ready for your date, doubt about what you were doing swirling. But you push it back as best you can because you had already said yes. Had already made a commitment. But it was just one date.

Hearing a knock on the door you head down the hall, pulling it open and taking in the sight before you. How Vince managed to only seem more attractive every time you saw him was simply unexplainable. “Hi,” you say, stepping back to pull on your shoes and grab your purse.

“You look gorgeous,” Vince says, voice almost hushed as he watches you step out through the front door. “Dressed up this nice just for me?” he phrases it as a question, though both you and him knew it was a statement, a smirk on his lips.

“For my second date later,” you joke, locking the front door. “Speaking of, we should get going and get this over with, I don’t want to be late for that,” you say, smiling teasingly at Vince.

His hands land on your waist quickly, pushing you gently back against the door. “You should cancel that, I’m going to be keeping you busy tonight.” It’s frustrating how enticing his lips are, how badly you want them on your own, even standing in front of your house, fully in sight of anyone in the neighborhood.

“My parents could get home at any minute,” you tell him. It did feel weird to say that, to have that concern after years of living away from your parents. But then again, this summer had felt like you had figured out the secret to time travel. Vince, on the other hand, had decided to find a short-term rental condo for the time being. It was a decision you assumed had been based around the fact that he had already thrown many a party in it since being back in town and perhaps he hadn’t been planning on it being with you, but the frequent hookups may have been a motivating factor in not staying with his parents as well.

Vince chuckles and leans closer, pressing a quick kiss against your lips before pulling back and slipping his hand into yours. “Later then,” he comments, guiding you down the driveway to where his car was parked.

Your lips tug into a surprised smile as he walks around the passenger's side of the car. “Did you google how to be a gentleman before this date?” you ask teasingly as he opens the door for you.

“Was I really that shitty of a boyfriend back then?” Vince asks in a serious tone, hand resting on the car door.

Laughing softly you shake your head. “No, you were sweet,” you say gently. “Just immature and a little stupid,” you add with a playful smile before getting into the car.

Vince shuts the door for you, walking around to the driver’s side. Your eyes follow him as he walks around the front of the car, taken aback by this side of Vince. When you said yes to a date you expected to meet him somewhere for dinner, rush through it and then head back to his place. But then he said he wanted to pick you up, told you he was planning the date and now he was opening the door for you, concerned with whether he had been an okay boyfriend. It feels nice for a second, until Sarah’s words come back into your mind. Be careful with this. As Vince gets into the car you try to draw yourself back into the moment, pulling your seatbelt on.

“Everything okay?” Vince asks. Another surprise. It wasn’t that he hadn’t cared about your emotions before, but it would have been a strange day for him to have noticed such a subtle change in them.

With an, admittedly forced, smile you nod. “Yeah,” you tell him simply, hoping it’s enough. And thankfully it is as Vince starts the car, backing out of the driveway.

“You want to pick the music?”

“Vince Dunn is relinquishing the music rights to me?” you ask in disbelief, laughing as you reach for the aux cord.

Vince glances over at you, smiling as he watches you happily plugging your phone in. “It was part of the google search,” he jokes.

Scrolling through your music selection you make a decision before turning your attention back to Vince. “Setting the bar high.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what else I can do to top that,” Vince chuckles.

“You’ll have to give me something else later tonight.”

Vince glances over at you, checking to see if he was correct in his assumption of what you were insinuating. “I don’t think that was on the how to be a gentleman list.”

“You’d have to google something else to get that as your suggestion,” you comment, quickly hitting skip on a love song that comes on shuffle. Unfortunately, it’s not quick enough for Vince not to notice, evident by the look he gives you from across the car. “So, where are we going?” you ask, trying to take the focus off the song you had skipped.

“You’ll see,” Vince tells you vaguely.

Shortly after Vince turns off the main street, the concrete giving way to a packed gravel side road. “Vince,” you laugh, looking over at him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Do you not trust me?” Vince asks, reaching across the car and taking your hand in his, fingers folding over yours.

“Yeah, of course I do,” you reply without hesitation. It was the truth, but a part of you wondered if you had responded too quickly.

Vince runs his thumb across the skin on the back of your hand. “Good.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, not entirely convinced that it really was that good.

Shortly after you’re standing by the car watching Vince pull a blanket out of the trunk of the car, laying it out on a patch of grass not far from a cute little lake. “This was your idea?” you ask in shock as Vince places a selection of food and a bottle of wine on the blanket.

He glances over at you with an almost sheepish smile. “Not exactly,” he tells you, picking up the bottle of wine and opener. “You’re going to have to thank Adam.” Opening the bottle of wine Vince reaches for a glass, pouring some of the dark red liquid into it before handing it to you.

“Ah,” you state, as if it were a revolutionary confession, reaching over and taking the glass from Vince. “Maybe I should date Adam,” you joke before faltering under the realization of what you had said. “I don’t mean that we’re, uh, dating. Obviously, this is just a date, we’re not dating-.” You stop talking mid-way through your rambling sentence, bringing the glass of wine to your lips and taking a fairly significant drink in order to keep yourself from talking yourself further into the hole you were headed down.

Vince looks at you with a playful smirk. “Should I have brought more than one bottle of wine?”

A relieved breath of laughter leaves your lips as you nod. “Probably. I can’t believe you drink wine now.”

“I don’t,” Vince admits, joining you as you sit down on the picnic blanket.

“Oh, you’re trying to impress me?” you tease.

“Always,” Vince comments smoothly, an arm behind him as he leans against it, looking over at you.

You gesture to the empty glass beside the bottle wine. “You actually have to drink some of it to impress me.”

Vince reaches for the bottle, pouring some into the glass, swirling the liquid around inside of it before taking a drink. “It’s fine,” Vince says with a shrug.

“I think it’s good,” you tell him, taking another sip.

“Then I’m sure it is,” he says, chuckling as he sets the glass down. You take a moment to glance around. At the small, still lake. The sun beginning to make a slow descent. The birds chirping were some of the only sounds you could hear. When you look back at Vince your eyes meet his immediately, staring unabashedly at you. You can’t stop the smile that forces its way onto your lips, your body reacting to his attention without your brain thinking it through.

“It’s rude to stare,” you tell him, your smile not fading as you lean back on one arm, staring right back at him.

“You’re too pretty not to stare at.”

“Sounds like someone’s trying to get laid,” you tell him teasingly, taking another sip of your wine. The sun feels warm against your skin, the stillness of the world around you easing any worries or concerns you could possibly be having, and you couldn’t deny how comfortable and content you felt, with Vince.

Vince reaches over, his fingers running along your leg that was stretched out in front of you, fingers grazing along your thigh. To your surprise, his hand stops progressing long before you were expecting. It was shockingly innocent for the two of you, a simple touch without intent of anything more than that. As if to prove you wrong, that he wasn’t just trying to sleep with you. At least not right in that moment.

Your conversation carries easily through the evening. Reminiscing about old times, sharing stories from the time you two had been apart, about your university experience and his season with the St. Louis Blues. Before long the sun has almost fully set, temperature dropping as the sky is alight with a collection of red and pink hues.

Silence falls over the conversation as you look at the sky over the lake. “Tonight was really nice,” you eventually say, looking away from the sky and back to Vince.

“Yeah, it was,” Vince agrees. “Adam should charge for his services.”

Laughing quietly you shake your head, sliding onto your knees and moving closer to Vince. “Tonight was nice because I like you, Vince, not because I like picnics that much.”

Vince is quiet but the gentle smile that forms on his lips says enough for you to know that the silence isn’t a bad thing. Leaning over he presses his lips to yours, the first kiss of the night that you can feel any sense of urgency behind. His hands move to your waist, pushing you down onto the blanket. You land gently on your back, supported by Vince’s arm around your back. Pulling his arm out from behind you he uses it to support himself as he remains over you, lips moving with yours slowly. There’s intent in his actions, you can sense that as his fingers slip beneath your shirt, but there isn’t a rush to it. Every time he touches you feels like the first time, just as electrifying, just as exciting.

Despite the anxiety you were feeling about the location Vince manages to make you forget all about that.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say, breathless as you glance around as if you were about to suddenly discover that someone had been watching. There hadn’t been a single other person around the whole evening but the worry was there that someone may have stumbled upon the two of you. “I’ve never done anything like this,” you tell him.

Vince chuckles, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to your lips. “I like being your first.”

Rolling your eyes you let out a breathy laugh. “Always did.”

Vince swallows heavily, the moment suddenly heavy with the reminder that this was all cloaked with so much history. Quickly you place your hands on his chest, pushing him back. “Can you get off me so we can put our clothes back on?”

Vince rolls off you and the two of you get redressed in relative silence. A few minutes later your attention is caught by the sky, by the stars, shining bright in the cloudless night sky. Smiling softly you glance over at Vince, moving closer and pressing your hands against his shoulders. “Lay down.”

Vince lifts his eyebrows, laughing softly. “Ready to go again?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, laying down beside him, settling your body next to his. “Just look at the stars with me.”

Vince runs his fingers gently along your arm. Unbeknownst to you most of the time you spent looking at the stars Vince spent looking at you.

A couple weeks pass after the date and as much as you wanted to say that you had managed to put some distance between you and Vince you simply hadn’t. Movies, dinners, everything you had said you wouldn’t do. The one date quickly led to the two of you spending more and more time together. Though neither of you would admit that the subsequent times spent together were, in fact, dates.

Music loudly fills the condo at a volume that should warrant a noise complaint. Fortunately, the neighbors had been more than understanding of Vince’s frequent parties. Standing in front of a tall blonde guy named Jared with sparkling blue eyes you giggle at something he said. It wasn’t truly funny, but he was trying and you didn’t want to be rude. He checked the boxes. He was attractive, kind, and at the very least trying to be funny. And he was giving you his full attention, conversation peppered with compliments and flattering comments. But he wasn’t Vince. You were trying though, trying to remind yourself that what you had with Vince was casual and that if you wanted to flirt with this guy, hell, if you wanted to sleep with him there were no rules against that.

Suddenly Vince is at your side, as if thinking about him was enough to manifest him into reality. He wraps an arm around you, standing slightly behind you as he pulls your body against his. “Come with me,” Vince whispers.

You should say no, tell him you’re busy having a conversation. But what you should do and what you want to do were not in alignment and the desire to follow him wherever he wanted to go was incredibly strong. “Sorry,” you say to Jared as you take a step away from him. “Maybe we can finish this conversation another time, later tonight, or something.”

“Don’t count on it,” Vince says to him and you glance up at Vince in surprise. His hand slides to your hand, gripping it as he pulls you quickly through the condo and up the stairs. In the bedroom he closes and locks the door swiftly before pressing you back against the door.

“Vince,” you whisper, his lips already on your neck, hands tight on your hips. “Slow down, what’s going on?”

“I want you,” Vince mumbles against your skin, hands fumbling with your clothes, moving with a speed and urgency that you hadn’t experienced with him this summer. Something beyond just desire was driving this. “I want to be the only one to have you.”

There’s a lingering scent of liquor from him and you wonder if that’s where these words are coming from. “We’re not together, Vince. You don’t get to say that.”

Suddenly Vince’s hands are on the back of your thighs, lifting you up. Clutching at his shoulders Vince turns around, carrying you over to the bed and dropping you onto your back on the now familiar bed. “No? You want to be with someone else?”

“Don’t,” you whisper, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Vince asks, running his large hands along your thighs.

“You know the answer to that so don’t be an asshole about it.”

Vince slides his hand around your back, pulling you to sit up and look at him. “I’ve had too many drinks to follow this conversation,” he admits, sitting down on the edge of the bed, clearly waiting for you to spell it out for him.

Shifting on the bed you slide one of your legs over his lap. “It doesn’t matter,” you say quietly, lips moving along his jaw.

Vince groans quietly, hesitating before pulling back. “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not...I’m not lying.”

“Don’t try to talk yourself out of this because I’m drunk,” Vince says with such seriousness that you have to laugh.

“You being drunk is exactly why we’re not having this conversation tonight,” you tell him, leaning in and kissing him gently. “We probably shouldn’t do this right now either, this is your party. Go make sure people aren’t lighting the furniture on fire or anything,” you tell him lightheartedly, hoping to clear some of the intensity. Pulling yourself off him you sit down on the edge of the bed, watching Vince stand up slowly.

“You’re going to stay here tonight, right?” Vince asks, glancing back at you with a smirk when he gets to the bedroom door. “You coming?”

Placing your palms on the bed you look over at him. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Vince falters before ultimately nodding and leaving the bedroom, the door closing with a soft thud. Sighing heavily you flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dimly lit bedroom. You sit in silence for a couple minutes, thinking, processing. When you sit back up your eyes are caught by the small table beside the bed, your phone charger, a half-empty glass of water you had put there the night before. The night before which you spent in that bed, and the night before that, and almost every single night since you went on that date a couple weeks before. Each time you convinced yourself it was just what was easiest, if you were sleeping with him it was just easier to spend the night than it was to head home so late. But you had gotten too comfortable, you knew that now.

Quickly you stand up, grabbing your phone charger and the glass of water and making a hasty exit. Down the stairs you get to the kitchen, leaving the glass in the sink and searching the house till you find Vince.

“Hey,” you say to him, smiling apologetically to the guy he was talking to. “I’m going to go home now,” you tell Vince, voice quiet to keep your conversation between the two of you.

Vince furrows his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be here right now,” you say, words and tone much too harsh. “Sorry,” you immediately add, not wanting him to assume you were upset with him. Because you weren’t. It wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t keep things casual. That was on you and it wasn’t fair to take it out on him. “I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

Vince places his hand on your arm, gently pulling you off to the side of the room. There were still plenty of people around, but between the music and conversations, nobody cared to listen in. “The party? Or us hooking up tonight?” Vince asks, hand dropping from your arm. “Because we don’t have to fuck every time you spend the night, you know that, right?”

Swallowing hard you shake your head, not holding eye contact as you step away from him. “That’s the problem, Vince.” Fidgeting with the phone charger in your hand you finally look into his eyes. “This isn’t casual anymore, this was supposed to be casual. We need to stop doing this.”

Vince glances around, seeming lost and unsure of himself. “I-.”

“We can talk about this another time, just have a good rest of your night.” With that you turn around, taking the quickest route through the condo and out the front door. Pulling the door shut behind you your eyes meet with those of the guy you had been talking to inside, leaning against the metal railing around the small front patio, cigarette in hand.

“I know I shouldn’t,” Jared says sheepishly, flicking some of the ash from the end of the cigarette.

Shrugging you take a couple steps away from the door, which also meant a couple steps closer to him. “We all have our vices.”

“Hard to imagine you have many.”

Laughing sarcastically you stand a couple feet from him, hands resting on the railing. “Oh, I do.”

“Want to tell me about it?” he asks, bringing the cigarette to his mouth, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction to keep it from you.

Taking a deep breath you look back at the house, mind flashing to Vince. “Not really,” you tell him, looking back and noticing the lopsided, amused smile on his face. “Nothing against you,” you add.

“No, I get it,” he says with a laugh. “Is your boyfriend going to come and whisk you away again?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Really?” Jared questions, eyebrows raised. “Might be the best news I’ve heard in a while.”

Laughing you push a piece of your hair behind your ear. You aren’t sure what fuels what you say next. Perhaps it was feeling like you needed to get over Vince, feeling shitty about yourself for letting it get to the point that you needed to get over him for the second time in your life. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Jared quickly puts his cigarette out. “Definitely,” he replies and the two of you head down the driveway to where his truck was parked, only getting in after a promise that he hadn’t been drinking that night.

It’s a short drive to Jared’s apartment and the conversation flows steadily though not easily, everything feeling just a bit forced with him. Climbing out of the truck you follow Jared into his apartment. “Bedroom?” he says, gesturing down the hall.

“Mhm,” you hum, following him down the hallway. It’s all a little too formal, procedural.

You can’t keep yourself from thinking about Vince when Jared kisses you for the first time. You wish you could say that it was just one thought of Vince. But when Jared rolls off you later that evening, looking beyond pleased with himself, while you were left entirely unfulfilled, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Was it good for you?” Jared asks as you get off his bed, reaching for your clothes in the dimly lit bedroom.

Half of you wanted to laugh in response, half of you felt bad because of the insecurity evident in his question. “Yeah,” you lie, pulling on your underwear and bra.

“Good,” Jared replies. You can tell that even he, no matter how badly he wanted to, didn’t believe it.

“Well, uh,” you mumble once you were fully dressed. “I’ll just, um, let myself out,” you say before making a quick retreat from the bedroom.

Leaving his apartment you’re filled with an unshakeable feeling of regret. For some reason you felt like you had done something wrong. No matter how many times you told yourself that there was nothing wrong with what you had done it was ever-present, nagging. Walking home you find it hard to stop your mind from repeatedly going back to the one person you wished you could stop thinking about. Because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was only ever supposed to be one casual hook up.

#vince dunn #vince dunn imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #vince dunn fanfiction #vince dunn fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #Hockey Fanfiction #st louis blues imagine #st louis blues fanfiction

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caffeinatedfantasy · 5 years

Text

The Seal pt 23: Revelations

{ Chris: [bio] [Prologue] [Story in Tumblr] [ AO3 Link From Beginning ] { this chapter contains: mentions of violence/death }

White hair swam in and out of my vision as I felt myself laid down on something soft. I closed my eyes at the dizzying feeling. I heard someone talking. Two people? One sounded calm, the other panicked. I felt myself being turned to one side and my shirt being pulled off. I shivered at the sudden feel of air on my skin. A voice protested, but the other silenced him. I gasped when I felt them touch the wound, trying to pull my body away from them. It HURT. I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from crying.

I couldn't remember the last time something hurt this bad. It shouldn't hurt this bad, should it? I didn't think I'd been hit that hard... It had seemed like just a push at the time. And worst of all, it wasn't just the pain from the wound. Memories lashed at me behind the darks of my eyelids. Like when I'd brushed the layers. I could feel them. Not all of them were mine but... I'd been hit harder than this. I could practically feel that time and--

And fear for Mammon. I still didn't know what happened to him and I just wanted to-- I wanted to run my hand down Mammon's body when I found him and-- FEAR. Was he alright? And- Why the fuck was it that I was the one here, in pain, writhing on this bed while he-- Where the fuck had he been? It had been his fucking fault, he was supposed to be there and-- Someone stole my dinner, of all things. I hadn't even eaten yet and -- Did they take my money? I fucking needed that money, It wasn't like it was easy for me to do that shit down here -- It's not fucking fair and-- Where the fuck was Mammon? Fuckfuck fuck I could use a fucking drink, maybe that would ease this and-- I wanted Mammon to be okay. I needed him to be and -- Fuck, I was gonna fucking kiss him if he was okay and just Fucking hell why does it--

Someone was talking to me. I heard them trying to sooth me. I just couldn't tell who--

Wait. It was-- It was Solomon. He was... Singing me something? In... In Hebrew? I think? He said 'Elohim', which I knew meant 'God' in Hebrew and. And I don't even know how I remembered that, but it relaxed me enough that I felt like I could open my eyes again and look at the two voices. But there were three of them now. Three people. Two I knew. Solomon next to me and singing softly, and Mammon on my other side, panicking and -- And the third I didn't know, but they were standing above me, hands over my exposed skin. No. Not standing, but...

It was strange and I was staring, and that was rude, but I didn't care. The other person in the room was... A mermaid? A spattering of fish scales across their grey-ish skin, and they had a layer of water wrapping around their hands like gloves as they passed them over my skin and-- The feeling was cool, almost freezing cold, but it wasn't painful. It was-- Soothing. Despite that I could see my skin knit together. Could feel it. It was-- It was strange and I--

"That's amazing." My voice was hushed and I was a little surprised that they'd heard me at all. But the demon smiled at me, the water dissipating from their hand and leaving their hand to rest on my side. I blinked at them. They didn't look very familiar, but perhaps it was because they were in their true form? They looked like... Like a mermaid. Fish tail and scales and hair like seaweed and bare breasts and all.

I was still staring and they were just smiling back. "Vepar" They held out their hand and I jumped, realizing it was there name and I reached out and shook it, only for them to take my hand and kiss the back of it.

Mammon protested and they chuckled. And-- "Mammon! You're okay!" I dropped Vepar's hand and practically launched myself at Mammon in a hug. Much to his shock. He flailed for a moment, arms waving to his sides and his wings flapping behind him to steady him, and I heard Solomon and Vepar exchange words behind me, but I was too focused on Mammon and my overwhelming relief and--

"Of course I'm fine! What about you! What happened?" Mammon hugged me tightly for a moment before holding me at arm's length and inspecting my side that had been cut before... Before he averting his eyes to my face abruptly, a slight blush on his cheeks. "I was running a bit late. And then I see you called me a bunch of times and you don't answer and then I feel you from I swear halfway across Devildom."

"I got... I got worried when you didn't answer and I... Went to find you, I guess?" This... Was not something I wanted to explain. I glanced down at where the wound had been, letting go of him enough to inspect the faint scar that was left.

"What kind of stupid shit is that? I'm a demon! Nothing's gonna--" He started, and I winced. And he must have noticed because he stopped and he reached down and pulled my hands away from the scar as if I were a child touching a dangerous thing.

"Look, I have a... I have a history of people kind of..." I wasn't looking at him, I was reaching out to tug on the bottom of his shirt, rubbing the soft material between my fingers. "Dying unexpectedly. Especially since... Well. My mom, she... I was at work when it happened and... When you didn't... I... Panicked. I guess. Sorry for-- Running into trouble."

He didn't say anything. And for a moment he just held me there and I felt so incredibly stupid for all of it because I had been so worried about him and then I'd been the one to get injured and-- And he pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly, practically pulling me into his lap as he pulled us both to sit on the bed and I didn't even realize I'd been crying until I felt myself start to shake. [Or was that him?]

And I don't know how I knew, but Vepar was gone and Solomon sat down beside us and I felt his hand on my back, stroking me gently. And he started to sing softly again and I don't know why his voice calmed me so much. After a moment I wiped away my tears and pulled back and smiled a little. At him, and then at Solomon, who I realized then I hadn't even really acknowledged yet. "Thank you."

Solomon's smile back at me was soft, and he just nodded. "Vepar did most of the work. I just summoned him here." I nodded and glanced around, but, as I suspected, Vepar was gone. Solomon spoke as he inspected where the wound was gently. "He said he was glad to meet you. He could tell you love the sea."

I laughed a little at that. Such a strange thing. It was true, because I'd lived on the coast nearly my whole life and I'd gone to it all the time. I loved swimming and-- And I realized with a start that Solomon's hand had drifted to my stomach. To my-- To my tattoo. The seal. His seal. And he was tracing it affectionately, curiously. As if it's presence on my body left him in awe and-- And maybe it did. Mammon hadn't even noticed yet. Or was thinking that he was just following up on Vepar's work. Because he didn't protest Solomon's more intimate touch alone my stomach.

"You got this before you came to Devildom." It wasn't a question. Which. It didn't need to be. It was obvious enough: The lines were a little warped and in some places stuck out oddly. Some spots were darker than others, while the fading was obvious throughout. The tattoo artist had been a student, that's how my ex had gotten it so cheap. And it showed. But he was still touching it so reverently. I nodded anyway. And I noticed then that it was the hand with the ring.

The ring that was the actual Seal of Solomon.

"I imbued it with power when I lent you some of mine." Again, it wasn't a question. And it wasn't something I could answer anyway. But Mammon had finally noticed and he started on saying something, trying to tell off Solomon, when he noticed it too. The ring, the tattoo, the symbol. He must have recognized it because he looked shocked.

"Wait, what the fuck? Why the fuck do you have Solomon's seal on you, it's not like, a symbol of pact or something, is it?" He said, and I laughed nervously, reaching down to touch it, brushing Solomon's hand away gently.

"I thought it was a symbol of protection. Kind of a last minute choice." I explained. I'd tried to give it some deeper meaning when that artist had been doing the work. I'd tied it to being barren and trying to protect me from anything going wrong. From getting hurt. But... "I'd originally planned to get a crescent moon, actually. A celtic knot one specifically, on the back of my neck. But... Honestly I don't remember why I changed my mind, but I did. Last minute. And got this after a google search for protection symbols."

Maybe it had been my subconscious telling me something. Since I'd needed protection from that ex. And that I'd ended up here. I glanced over at Solomon, suddenly feeling guarded. "You... Can't control me with it, right?"

The idea seemed to panic Mammon, whose arms wrapped tighter around me, as if he was prepared to fight Solomon if he said yes. But he just shook his head. "No. It wasn't placed on you as part of a pact, even if I've since imbued it with powers. You're not a demon, a djinn or a spirit. It's almost like..." He hummed, raising his hand to tap on his chin in thought. "The tattoo is serving the same function as my ring. It does connect us, but..."

He laughed for a little bit, and Mammon pulled me closer against him, suspicious and, I noticed with a glance up at him, glaring. But Solomon explained.

"I dare say that you have a better chance of controlling me with it than I you." And he seemed so amused by that idea. He was actually smiling at me when he spoke. And I didn't feel any trace of a lie.

"You better not be lying!" Mammon demanded. And I realized he'd slowly shifted us so that he was sitting between Solomon and I, trying to keep me out of view and out of harm's way. Solomon held up both of his hands.

"I swear on Elohim's holy name that I have no intention of controlling Chris through the Seal on their stomach, even were I able to." Mammon winced a little at the mention of Elohim [fallen angel and all, I guess], but the vow seemed to satisfy him, because, despite still fixing Solomon with a glare, he didn't push the matter further. I let out a sigh of relief and leaned into Mammon slightly. Solomon having seen the Seal, knowing it's there and that it didn't give him any power over me [even though I'd tried to confirm that indirectly multiple times before now] was such a weight off of my shoulders that it felt like stress I'd been holding onto this whole time just... Washed over me. And a sudden a rush of tiredness hit me. All of this excitement and emotion and... And everything washed over me and I just wanted to sleep.

"Okay. Okay. Well. We can... We'll talk about my tattoo later, then. For now I think I want to go home and sleep." I muttered, pushing back from Mammon enough to realize that, oh shit I hasn't wearing my shirt and I should probably find that. "Where's my shirt?"

This time Solomon winced. He slid off the bed to pick up a scrap of fabric to hold up for me. Even against the dark fabric, the blood was obvious. And the tears just made it worse. I wanted to cry at the sight of it. It was such a stupid thing, too. It wasn't even my favourite shirt.

But it was as if the realization of what had happened hit me all at once and I still didn't even know why and I just took the shirt with shaking hands and I was just so tired and I just started crying into it. Mammon panicked a bit, trying to comfort me, but clearly not knowing what to do, but Solomon walked to his dresser, pulled out a spare shirt, and came back over to me. Carefully, he took the torn shirt from my hands and placed it on the bed. He made me lift my arms over my head. He slipped the shirt over my head and, letting my arms fall, he pulled my hair out of the back, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. It made me feel a bit like a child for a moment.

But somehow, once again, it just... Calmed me. He wasn't blaming me for how emotional I was being. He wasn't panicking and making it worse either. He was simply.... Accepting it and finding a way to calm me down. Solving the problem that he could. When he started to pull away, I caught his cheek and pulled him back and gently pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and muttered a thank you again.

"Go home and sleep, Chris." He told me. I nodded. Mammon had looked ready to argue again, but he hadn't. Instead, he just picked me up in his arms and walked out of Purgatory Hall and headed back home. And he didn't even seem to care that he'd been in his true form this whole time. I smiled at that a little bit and snuggled into him.

#the seal obey me fic #obey me fic #obey me solomon #obey me mammon

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