#so i thought id at least get your starter up!! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[riverdaring-blog]

closed starter for @timebcmb-xx

   THE ONLY THING running through Noah’s mind right now was an endless stream of curses. The blonde had rushed herself to the bathroom that morning after settling down after breakfast with Demi. They’d established regular sleepovers with one another and had become rather close, but no one was close enough for Noah to let in. Politely, but with an undertone of urgency, she had excused herself and made sure she was calmly around the corner before she made a mad dash for the tiled room. She was sure to lock the door behind her, unaware of any suspicions that might cause regarding her PAST, and leaned over the toilet in the corner. Holding her own hair back, Noah Brinrose was both disgusted with herself and benumb with herself -- what the fuck was she going to do?

    With a deep breath, the recovered blonde stood, smoothing her pajamas she’d not yet bothered to take off and stepping in front of the mirror. Making an unsatisfied face at herself, the narcissist leaned down to the sink to quickly rinse her mouth and readjust her hair. Spinning towards the door, Noah coughed lightly to compose herself, prepared to walk back into the other’s company, but before the door was even fully opened, the beauty was already there in wait. The back of her knuckles was already dragging across her bottom lip as she jumped.

   “Fucking hell, you SCARED me!”

[ofdreamsanddoodles]

Hey idk if you’re the best person to ask and I’m not trying to start anything, I don’t mean this disrespectfully but why is the new poster artist art problematic?? I’m just not very educated on the subject :)

first of all, i'd recommend looking at this post from thegrinningwheels going over the mistakes people make when drawing peter because this definitely plays into some of them. also, disclaimer that i am white, and if anyone else wants to jump in, feel free. before i start, i'd like to mention this screenshot:

[id: a screenshotted twitter thread containing three tweets. 1. jay onetiredboy (@onetiredb0y) can i ask why you'd want to distance the official art from your previous artworks? is there a particular criticism you'd like to directly address? or... ... 2. Ellison Estephan (@/ellisonestephan) I like to draw goofy stuff as a fan! I thought it would be more professional to make sure people remember that stuff isn't "official art" or something now, just because I'm drawing some posters haha!! 3. *sighs* hyperion city... (@junosteel [rest is cut off]) with all due respect, you can just say that your art perpetuated racism/transmisogyny/ableism without hiding behind "haha its goofy." better to at least be transparent and address it than dancing around the issue an acknowledging it as goofy. own up to your mistakes pls. /end id]

as well as this response to harley kaner saying that people sometimes called others racist to justify bullying them (a post made about an hour or so after the artist was announced)

so they know they messed up but... yeah they're not gonna apologize

(a link to the junoverse designs for anyone who wants to follow along)

for starter’s, the way peter is drawn feels a bit like a caricature, to the point of drawing on transmisogynistic stereotypes. (stereotypes that are like, ten times more visible in their art of vespa, who is actually trans fem which i’ll get to in a second) the intersection of what it means to be a feminine gnc person and being a poc are many and varied, and there is definitely a lot to say about femininity being seen as wrong and shameful. there's a lot of history in how Asian men's femininity has been portrayed and sexualised, both in fandom & in the world at large, and sometimes white authors just aren’t capable of handling those points with care. as much as i would love to celebrate a gnc character design,  i think it's safe to say that this artist's depiction of a hyper-feminine nureyev feels like a mockery rather than honest representation

also, it may not be intentional, but when you have a line-up & you're drawing the lighter characters (or at least nureyev and buddy) much more sultry & sexual than the darker ones.... that tells me something about how you view people of color. especially when the sexual way you draw those lighter characters has nothing to do with their character

a line up like this is supposed to give you an indication of character personality. this is supposed to be how you're going to present them to the world. both buddy and peter use their charisma to their advantage sometimes, but that charisma is based on their personality! though he's absolutely flirted to get what he wants, peter tries to give off the vibes of a suave gentleman. if he’s wearing a tie, it’s not going to be haphazardly put on, because he cares about his appearance. peter can be sexual, but it’s not really the way he presents himself to the world at large, and this version of him goes so far it feels like some kind of parody of ouran host club or something, which makes me feel like it’s mocking him rather than trying to honestly portray his character. 

buddy meanwhile has never flirted with anyone but her wife and gets her way with confidence & force. that exaggerated body type would already be a bad look on its own because of the hypersexual way people view women of color, but with added context, it kind of feels like there's the implication that the only way these characters could be as cool & charismatic as they are is if they get their way with sex, which is just... incredibly racist

some of it is just an issue with the art style in general. a lot of cartoonish styles have exaggerated features, but there's a limit to how much you can exaggerate those features without just drawing actual stereotypes. alessandra's design makes me uncomfortable for the exact opposite reason as buddy's: cartoonishly gigantic muscles aren't really a great sight when black women are constantly seen as hypermasculine. i might be a bit too critical on this one? i feel like it was worse when i first looked at it, but there's still the fact that exaggerating an asian character's eyelids is racist. it's like. racism 101. both peter and quanyi have incredibly slitted eyes in the majority of their art & personally the way quanyi specifically is exaggerated makes her seem more…. manic, somehow? the way her eyes are lidded aren’t only racist, but make it seem like she’s constantly giving everyone bedroom eyes which is just. Oof

vespa i wanted to talk about in more detail, because there is literally not one element of this design that doesn’t scream bigotry. It reminds me so much of every terrible caricature of a trans woman i’ve seen in horror. The wild bloodshot eyes, the bloody nose, the dagger, the unkept hair & hairy armpits, the wardrobe malfunction revealing a bare chest for no other reason than shock value alone—because how else are we supposed to know what kind of woman she is? There’s already been so many films & just, media in general linking trans women to mental illness and violence. We absolutely didn’t need a vespa design that looks like she belongs in silence of the lambs. If this was just vespa holding a knife, that’d be fine! She does, canonically, have a knife that she uses. But everything about this vespa is designed to look as offputting as possible. She doesn’t look dangerous because she’s part of our cool crime family, she looks out of control. Which is exactly how vespa worries the world will see her! Taking a character who says, pretty up front that she wants to be seen as more than her violent urges & mental illness and then drawing her in a way that screams “look out! This person is dangerous and mentally ill!” is honestly unforgivable. Add that to the fact that everything about her appearance implies she’s doing womanhood “wrong” (obviously, not shaving should be considered a neutral thing, but when it’s only a trans woman character you show with hair, it’s worth considering why you feel the need to do something like that) including the fact she’s going around with her shirt slipped like that, which looks obviously oversized to fill a chest she doesn’t have. One of the first things i learned about writing trans characters is that you should never reveal a character is trans by taking a moment to emphasize how different their body looks from a cis person, be it through having someone else walk in on them in the shower or this. It’s voyeuristic and serves no purpose but to make someone’s gender seem like a dramatic twist instead of an identity that deserves respect, and if a trans artist can’t even understand that, then there’s no hope of them accurately representing literally anyone else.

according to a friend, this art had been drawn before vespa was confirmed as trans (but reposted after, so clearly they didn’t see an issue either way) but that just means they saw an angry, schizophrenic woman & decided to not just make her a harmful stereotype of a pyschotic person, but add insult to injury by making her trans as well.

This has gone on too long & i can’t type anymore, but i wanted to say the second citadel designs really aren’t any better. Every character they chose to make a poc implies something negative, such as making marc and tal the only knights of color & then placing them as nothing more than comic relief. Maybe i could believe this was part of an effort to show the white characters as part of the oppressive class if it wasn’t for didn’t seem clear that we’re supposed to see the brothers as a pair of bumbling fools. Not to mention every single other bad thing they did

EDIT: i want to emphasize that just because i’ve only talked about the junoverse designs doesn’t mean the citadel designs aren’t also worth an apology. so far, the only thing ellison has said (aside from them calling the initial line up “goofy”)  is this tweet, but when they say “i wouldn’t draw those characters like that now,” that apology doesn’t acknowledge the fact that multiple people on twitter have criticized quanyi’s design for some of the reasons mentioned above. it also rings a bit more hollow when they say “i wish i could go back and design things different” because this citadel line-up was posted in late august. if you’re incline to go “well, this was in the past, and they apologized” (and i do see some proof they changed their vespa design) i’d like to remind you that some of their most recent drawings were in fact, last month, and there has been no acknowledgement they understand what was wrong with that. whoever was involved in getting a new artist for the penumbra saw these racist & homophobic designs and agreed that someone who drew that material was someone they wanted to align themselves with.

And remember, this is the second time the penumbra podcast has worked with an artist with blatantly bigoted art (the first being tumblr user disasterscenario) and i remember plenty of people explaining exactly what was wrong with that art as well. Whatever chance you think they have to learn and improve—they had it! And in response, this is what they gave us

[writing-with-olive]

The Stonewall Riots of 1969

1) Current State of Being (it was not good, fam, not good)

To set the scene, we’re in the late sixties. We’ve won the second World War, and suddenly everyone’s dealing with the fact that the patriotic frenzy America has been whipped into isn’t really having the same purpose it used to. Thing is, everyone’s still really heated along the basic lines of DEATH TO COMMUNISM AND ALSO COMMUNISTS. During the war, this was helpful. It created a sense of unity. But once the war was over, attention turned inward.

At this time, there was also research that queer people were "sex perverts" and a government report even came out saying

"The lack of emotional stability which is found in most sex perverts and the weakness of their moral fiber, makes them susceptible to the blandishments of the foreign espionage agent [...] the pervert is easy prey to the blackmailer.

This same report also cited a case of a gay man "who's homosexuality was used by the Russians [who were communist] to recruit him as a double agent before world war 1." Basically, the overall gist was that gay people were believed to either be communists now, or they would become communists because their brains were weaker.

Alrighty, but why were they easy prey? First, when it came to communism, they were just as susceptible as anyone else, but after steep laws against queer people were passed, blackmail became pretty real.

So... yeah, let's talk about a couple laws that were in place in the late sixties, shall we?

For the crime of sleeping with a consenting partner in the privacy of your own home you could face anything from:

A light fine

Five, ten or twenty years in prison

A life sentence

Electrical shock therapy

Castration

In addition, to target trans people, police had also dug out a law from the nineteenth century that was originally passed to supress angry tenant farmers who would don disguises and demonstrate against their landlords (law found in subsection 4 of section 240.35 of the New York Penal Code). The law stated that individuals could not wear more than three items of clothing that did not match their assigned gender at birth.If an officer thought you were breaking this law, they could arrest you and take you to a bathroom or similarly private location and have an officer who matched your presented gender either do a strip search or pat you down there to see if things matched.

Things got especially bad when New York realized they’d have to “clean up the place” in preperation for hosting the World Fair. In part, this meant a heavy crackdown on the gay community, and by extention, gay bars.

2) The Genovese Crime Family and Stonewall

At around this time, the Mob was starting to notice that gay bars were an excelent source of profit - since the prohibition era (1920-1933), limited access bars and speakeasies had popped up everywhere and since the gay community already couldn’t be themselves on the streets, they retreated to these more sheltered locations.

Three mafia members decided to open a gay bar because ohhh boy could you rake in some serious profit. Combined, the three of them put up $3500 to “renovate” the Stonewall Inn (which had gone through itterations of being a straight nightclub, straight bar, and gay restaurant in a sort of irregular cycle). 

Renovations included building a stage to dance on, painting the walls black, and getting a jukebox. No running water, no fire exit, just the bare minimum. It certainly wasn’t legal.

When they opened (as a bottle club to get around pesky liquor laws), the bouncer would look through a little slat in the door and if you had a codeword or looked sufficiently gay, he’d let you in. You then had to sign up to be a part of the club (about a dollar) and write your name down on a sheet of paper. Of course, no one wrote down their real names. 

The liquor in question was stolen, to begin with, and then heavily watered down with... questionably clean water, and then sold at about three times the original price in half-cleaned glasses (glasses were dunked in a bucket and then reused). Since none of the patrons really had high expectations anyway, they went with it. Needless to say, however, Stonewall was not a particularly nice place to be.

With all the money the trio raked in, a cut had to go to the Mafia man who controlled the district, and another cut went to paying of the notoriously corrupt 6th Precinct, to avoid getting the whole place shut down. 

Because they were payed off, the police would only conduct their mandated raids early in the night before things got going, and on weekdays - this was when there weren’t a ton of people there, and it was easy to make it look like nothing was amiss.

3) The Raid (this is where shit gets real)

First of all, the thing is - no one knows why it happened. It just.... did.

On June 28th, 1969, at about 2am, the night was in full swing. The bar was crammed full of people dancing and drinking. The air was stuffy as usual and quite dark. 

Then the bright flourescent lights come on - the signal that there was a raid and to seperate and to look less gay. The police came through, and called that they were making arrests. Everyone needed to line up against the wall and have their ID’s ready. Of course this was an issue, because just about everyone was legally not supposed to be at stonewall. 

As the police began taking people outside, a crowd was going - raids at this time were... unusual to say the least. Some of the queens went into the back of the police cars without much of a fight - obviously they were terrified, but it didn’t look like there was much they could do.

One of them, however, and no one knows who for sure, was having none of this. Though Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera have both been suggested as the starter of the riot, both have denied it, saying it was someone else. Storme DeLarverie, however, has both accepted and denied it was her. In an interview where she confirmed herself as the starter, she described her reaction, saying:

“The cop said ‘Move f****t’, thinking that I was a gay guy. I said, ‘I will not! And, don’t you dare touch me.’ With that, the cop shoved me and I instinctively punched him right in the face. He bled! He was then dropping to the ground - not me!”

She then turned to the crowd and yelled “why don’t you all do something?”

This was when things transformed. Objects started to fly. It was like someone had just punched a hole through the dam holding back the collective anger of the queer community.

A lot of the queer street kids, homeless, desperate, and with nothing to lose, were at the forefront of the fight, throwing anything from stones to pennies to bottles. Here’s the thing: no one really liked Stonewall - it wasn’t particularly nice or inviting or anything like that, but it was THEIRS and they were going to fight like hell for it.

Those being pulled out of the Inn started fighting back too - throwing what they could, kicking, punching, pushing back against the police. Marsha Johnson, a woman some have referred to as “basically a lesbian superhero” even climbed a telephone pole and threw an unidentified heavy object at a police car, shattering the window. 

It was chaos and the crowd was still building. The flying objects didn’t stop, and it wasn’t like anyone had great aim - they were just as likely to hit a fellow protester - but there was a sense of comraderie and it made the police nervous. They were calling for reinforcements, but none were coming.

Finally, one of the police chiefs decided they had to retreat into Stonewall. They grabbed a few people as hostages and dissapeared inside, and barricaded the door. The inside of the Stonewall Inn was a wreck. The jukebox had been smashed. Same with the stage, the bathroom mirrors, and the cash register. Broken furniture was strewn on the floor.

Outside, the rioters had yanked a parking meter out of the ground and were trying to bash their way through the door, using it like a battering ram. Each thud made the officers even more nervous, and the captain, realizing things could turn from bad to horrific and deadly commanded his officers not to shoot unless he shot first. He went up to each one, commanding them individually by name, saying that if they shot without his direct sayso, they would be spend the rest of their police careers with only the worst possible jobs. To their credit, no one shot.

Outside, reinforcements finally arrived, armed in full riot gear - helmets, plastic shields, those club/baton things. They came forward in a full on phalanx. Then it started getting really ugly. People ended up lying on the sidewalk with blood coming from their heads or injured in other ways. The crowd started falling back, step by step. Finally, many of them ran.

But not to flee. Instead, they went all the way around the block and came up behind the reinforcement officers. Surprised that there was a new attack coming from behind, it was the police that began to loose the ground, and were forced to retreat back, back, back.

It was into the late, late hours of the night when the riots finally died down to nothing, the last of the crowd finally dispersed, exhausted.

4) The Next Day (aka a giant middle finger to the cops)

The shattered glass sparkled in the morning light the next day - a tribute to what had gone down the night before. 

That night, the crowds around stonewall were huge. And it wasn’t just the queer community - the anti-war protesters and Black Panthers had joined in, standing against the even larger ranks of officers. The night before was a tipping point, but if momentum was to keep going, there needed to be sustained effort.

Inside, the Inn was back to normal. The Mafia had repaired the stage, gotten a new cash register, and even replaced the jukebox. It was if the efforts of the police had never even happened. Throughout the night, the queer community went in and out as though everything were totally normal - as if the police didn’t matter.

The riots were even worse than the night before, but the police couldn’t gain any ground.

Despite what was happening and the triumphs of the queer community, the press was a little less enthusiastic, aiming to diminish what had happened, taking the viewpoint of the police, or claiming the riots happened because of a celebrity’s death, and not the decades upon decades of oppression.

5) The Impact (how we got to today)

A year later, a lot of the Stonewall participants gathered to commemorate the movement. There were now several activism groups that had grown since the riots, but there needed a way to keep it growing - keep the flame from dying out.

One woman proposed that they have a march like the Civil Rights movement and Anti-war protesters were having. As soon as the question filled the space, there was unanimous consensus. Yes - they were to march.

It was terrifying. One member remembered fearing that only ten or so people would show up - that it was only going to make them into a laughingstock and nothing more. Indeed, many people had shown up with popcorn to “watch the f*gs” - it was seen almost as a show or performance. 

But the moment was anything but. When the member looked back, in apprehension, what he saw wasn’t ten or the anticipated couple hundred people. No more than two thousand people had joined the parade. And not just the queer community - straight New Yorkers were there too. It was a moment of solidarity, and a demand for justice.

Every year since, there have been pride marches around the country, memorium to the community, and to the fight we’ve been fighting for a very long time, and to the patrons of Stonewall Inn who finally decided enough was enough.

6) Sources (because apparently trusting an unsourced tumblr posts is seen as an academic no-no)

(all in MLA because I just copy/pasted them from my research notes and also MLA feels official and all that)

Yardley, William. "Stormy DeLarverie, Early Leader in the Gay Rights Movement, Dies at 93." The New York Times, 29 May 2014, www.nytimes.com/2014/05/30/nyregion/storme-delarverie-early-leader-in-the-gay-rights-movement-dies-at-93.html?_r=0. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Brown, Dalvin. "Marsha P. Johnson: Transgender Hero of Stonewall Riots Finally Gets Her Due." USA Today, 27 Mar. 2019, www.usatoday.com/story/news/investigations/2019/03/27/black-history-marsha-johnson-and-stonewall-riots/2353538002/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Burey, Jodi-Ann. "'It Wasn't No Damn Riot': Celebrating Stonewall Uprising Activist Storme DeLarverie." The Riveter, Feb. 2017, theriveter.co/voice/it-wasnt-no-damn-riot-celebrating-stonewall-uprising-activist-storme-delarverie/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Carter, David. Stonewall: The Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution. 2nd ed., New York, St. Martin's Griffin, 2010.

Duberman, Martin B. Stonewall. New York, Plume, 1993.

Edsall, Nicholas C. Toward Stonewall: Homosexuality and Society in the Modern Western World. Charlottesville [Va.], U of Virginia P, 2003.

Kristi K. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

---. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

"The Stonewall You Know Is a Myth. And That's O.K. | NYT Celebrating Pride." YouTube, uploaded by The New York Times, 31 May 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7jnzOMxb14. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

(not in mla sorry) - PBS’s Stonewall Uprising (documentary)

++++

tagging: @veryunoriginal and @doggo038 because yall seemed pretty interested. Also my usual taglist: @candlemouse @bookdragonfanish @book-limerence​

If you want to be added/removed from any of my taglists, let me know! taglists found pinned to the top of my blog :D

[normal-thoughts-official]

With a little help from your friends (the help is praise kink and the friend is your boyfriend)

Who would have thought that fucking your boyfriend senseless cures dysphoria.

Alternatively: being a dom is actually something that can be so gender,

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Pairing: Andy Kang/Tom Sato

Additional tags: let's see, mild mentions of transphobic and racist comments, Comfort Sex, the filthiest comfort sex uve ever seen but WHATEVER, dom andy kang, sub tom sato, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dom/sub Play, Collars, Praise Kink, basically someone says transphobic shit and then tom rides him and talks about how wonderful andy is, except tom has also been in denial for a few days and he's super horny, and andy gets in domspace and everything is great and nothing hurts, Fluff and Smut, Humor, cuz u know these two are incapable of taking anything too seriously, Established Relationship, oh they're both in college and they go to the same college cuz i said so, set after the events of it lives beneath, that's it I think, trans author if that matters to you

Read it on Ao3

Andy isn't having a great day. It's not a terrible, clawing-at-his-chest-trying-to-deal-with-dysphoria kind of day, but he's been trying out this "not comparing everything to the worst possible scenario" thing his therapist has been talking about, so still, not a great day.

The thing is, he thought college would be easier. And it is, in a lot of ways. For starters, there is no evil monster spectre trying to kill him, which gives college at least 5 points over high school. And his uni has a pretty solid queer club, so he knows other trans people there. Some of them are even non-white. Some of them he even actually, truly likes. And most of the time, he feels like he has a place to turn to, and people to support him. He's not alone. He has people who get him. And that makes all the difference.

But basketball is still a nightmare, and his knee still hurts when it's cold, and winter is officially starting now.

People still hesitate to pass the ball to him, and it's frustrating, because Andy fought so hard to earn his old team's trust and now he's back at square zero. And well, Andy has been gaining this team's trust, because he's good, goddamn it, and his team owes at least the last three victories to him. He's not hesitant to say that, especially because otherwise no one will. And he can see that they look at him differently now - nod at him in the hallways, at least, talk to him in the locker room, pass him the fucking ball if his position is very, very open.

But if he weren't trans and Asian, he wouldn't have had to work so hard to get all of that - or well, just that, really. He has a full sports scholarship despite the fact that he had a broken leg, had to retake his last year of high school, and doesn't even have the body type for basketball. If he weren't Asian, if he weren't trans, his team would have assumed his greatness from day one. Instead, he has to show it to them time and time again only to get them to reluctantly admit maybe he's not bad. No one calls him "triple threat" anymore, but he still has to work three times harder than anyone else, and it's frustrating.

And usually Andy can deal with it, but right now his knee hurts, and he can't afford that because he'll lose everything he's worked for if his teammates know that his fucking knee hurts. So, he braved training and then he got the fuck out of there without even changing so no one would see him wince. Which means he's still in basketball shorts, which are short, in the cold, which means his leg hurts more.

At times like these, he's thankful he never got the chance to go through with his promise to break his other leg kicking Noah's ass. Because he would have, and then both his legs would be hurting right now, and two legs that hurt every time it's cold is just too many legs.

No comparing to the worst possible scenario, he tells himself. Therapy is so hard. If he had known there would be homework, he would have thought twice about going.

And that's, apparently, the cue for his phone to go off. Andy smiles, knowing who it is even before he opens the message, because only one person messages him during class, and it's the only person he wants to hear from right now.

Tom <3 sent you a message

Grinning like a fool, he opens it.

Tom <3: dude, im horny af rn. the fuck

Finally, good news, Andy thinks, smiling. Then he remembers why Tom is so horny, and suddenly this day is great, actually.

He quickly types a reply.

You: who wouldve thought that 3 days of denial would make this happen

Tom <3: ill have u kno i was very good at holding it together before today

You: yeah, dw. soon u wont have to hold it anymore ;)

Tom <3: that flirt was terrible, dude

You: said the guy whos calling me dude for the second time in this conversation

Tom <3: what else should i call u? 😩

Andy thinks for a second. Tom and him do longer-term denial every once in a while, but they aren't in a 24/7 relationship. Does Andy really want to go there right now? Yes. Well, that was fast. Okay then.

You: how about "sir"

Tom's reply comes fast as lightning.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

Andy smirks at himself.

You: uve been hoping that id say that, havent u?

Tom types for just a little longer this time.

Tom <3: Yes, Sir.

----

Many things are wrong with the world, and Andy doesn't mean to make light of the other things, but the fact that Andy can't simply go and fuck his boyfriend whenever he wants is definitely one of them. It should be, like, financial compensation or something. We're so sorry the school environment is transphobic, here, have a free sex pass. Sounds fair to him. But instead, he still has two hours of classes to go through, and Andy is a better guy than he wishes he was, so he tells Tom to pay attention to class instead of sexting him, because he doesn't want Tom to struggle even more with his course when he had already had to leave it once. God damn true love or whatever.

The point is, by the time classes are finally over, his day is back to not being that great; he's tired, and his leg hurts. He gets to their car after Tom does, and Tom takes one look at him, and says, "I'm driving".

Andy crosses his arms. "Why?"

"Because your leg hurts," Tom answers, rolling his eyes and taking Andy's bag from him and putting it in the trunk.

Andy looks down at his legs. He wasn't limping. There aren't any bruises. How the hell-

"It's cold and you're in shorts. I'm not an idiot, dude."

Right. Yeah. Right. Of course. Tom knows. It's… It's alright.

"Bad day at training?" Tom asks, slowly, sympathetically, and Andy feels himself settle in his skin a little bit.

"The usual," he answers, getting inside, and, as always, Tom gets the hint.

---

Their uni's dorms are gender-segregated because these guys have still not gotten the memo that people of the same gender fuck; and Andy wasn't willing to deal with cis college guys' bullshit, much less cis college girls' bullshit; and the uni wouldn't let him simply pick Tom as his roommate. So, they rented out a beat up apartment right next to it instead. It took a little longer to get there, but it wasn't a lot longer, and well, it was worth it.

Tom gets inside, still carrying Andy's bag because he's transphobic and unfair and had taken it and bolted up running so Andy wouldn't have a chance to argue with him. And Andy can't run after him with his leg hurting, which kind of proves Tom's point that he should carry Andy's bag. All in all, Tom is the worst, and he turns up the heat as soon as he gets inside and sits Andy down on the bed, kneeling in front of him to take a look at Andy's knee.

He's silent for a while, massaging his knee until Andy sighs and throws his head back, before Tom plants a little kiss on his knee and looks up at him. Andy's knee always stops hurting when Tom kisses it better. It's a little embarrassing, if Andy is being honest, but still- nice. Really nice.

They stay for a little longer like this, Tom humming and massaging his knee and Andy not meeting his eyes, until the question inevitably comes.

"What happened?" Tom asks, not letting up with the smooth movements of his hands, his eyes big and sincere with worry.

"Nothing. Just the cold. You know how my knee gets."

"I meant, for you to leave practice without putting some warmer clothes on."

Andy looks away. "It was nothing."

"Dude, are you expecting me to go, 'okay, yeah, that totally makes sense and I believe you', or…?"

Andy laughs, despite himself, and throws his good leg up in an almost-kick to pretend he's retaliating. "Don't be an ass."

"I'm not. Come on, Andy. You know you can tell me."

"It's nothing, it's just- Kyle-"

"Oh boy."

Andy laughs. "Yeah." But then he grows serious, "the thing is, he doesn't mean any harm, you know? I know he's not saying it to hurt me, and so that just means that, like... that it's true."

Tom's hands stop their movements, rubbing soothing circles around his knee instead. "What did he say?"

Andy doesn't look at him. "He asked me why I didn't stay on the women's team. Said that I could have an advantage, cuz Asian people are androgynous anyway, so no one would notice that I was taking hormones."

Tom just stares at him in shock for a moment.

"And I was like, 'dude, I've been on T for three years, I'm pretty sure they would notice the changes'. And he was like, 'yeah, but you still look like a lot of Asian girls with short hair, you could write it off if you wanted', and I just…" He trails off.

Tom waits in silence for a second, seeing if Andy finds his words, before asking, "Is Kyle, like, okay?"

Andy scoffs. "I didn't try and fight him, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, does this dude have a screw loose or something?"

"He's very bad at figuring out what is or isn't offensive, yeah, but it's not like he really cares, he just won't go out of his way to antagonize me."

"No, I just- Andy, even when you were a little kid with huge pigtails, anyone would have to be crazy to see you as a girl."

Andy bites the inside of his lip. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. It's just wrong, man. It was so obvious that it was wrong. Anyone could tell. There's nothing about you that says 'girl' to anyone who's looking."

Andy sighs, finally risking looking at Tom's eyes. There's overwhelming sincerity there, and Andy instinctively looks away. "I guess. Maybe. I don't know. It just got me thinking... Maybe T didn't change anything. Maybe I look exactly the same, maybe it was just hopeful thinking that had me thinking it would change anything, maybe it's just- pointless to even try-"

"No, no, come on," Tom says, and the interruption is so sudden it makes Andy look at him again, just in time to see Tom shaking his head vigorously. "There's no way you believe that. What about this bad boy over here?" He smiles, reaching out softly to caress Andy's neck. "You have more of an Adam's Apple than me, dude. And we both know you don't need T to be a guy, but thinking it made no difference is just crazy and you know it. What about those dry pecs? These broad shoulders of yours? Your voice, I mean, come on. You even smell different, man. How can it be pointless, if even your scent is different?"

Andy looks to the side again, but he can feel himself smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Tom gets up, but stays close, putting his hand on Andy's cheek, slowly, as if testing the waters, before turning him slightly to look at him. "Andy. Kyle is an idiot and a transphobic racist who's too damn lazy to realize how fucked up he is. And you shouldn't have to deal with that, and I'm sorry, and I will set him on fire."

Andy laughs. "You can't keep threatening to set every shitty teammate I have on fire."

"I can, because it keeps making you laugh," Tom says, smiling. Well. Andy can't argue with that. "My point is, you wouldn't listen to a word this dude says if it were about anyone else, so don't listen to him when he talks about you, okay? T or no T, you're no girl, and you don't look like a girl, and regardless of whether or not Kyle's dumb ass noticed it, your transition has been doing you good. Remember when your voice started to crack and get all weird? I've never seen anyone be that happy about it."

Andy laughs. "It was pretty awful."

"No, it was great, 'cause you loved it. Do you want me to pull out the 'before' pictures we took in case this happened? Look at yourself, dude. You fit so much better in your own skin, you know? And like, you've always been gorgeous, but-"

"Come here," Andy interrupts, pulling him down because Tom is standing and Andy is sitting and Andy is already height-challenged. And Tom goes willingly, carefully straddling Andy's lap and meeting him in a kiss. Finally, Andy thinks.

Tom kisses him softly, slowly, one hand resting on the back of Andy's head and the other draped lazily over his shoulder, as he usually does, all gentle and a little hesitant, and Andy is having none of that. So he grabs Tom's hair and deepens the kiss, bringing him closer until their chests are flushed together and he can feel Tom's hips mindlessly making little circles against Andy's belly.

They separate - or well, stop kissing, really, because Tom is still as close to Andy as physically possible, and Andy feels about ready to shoot anyone who tries to push him further away. Tom's a little breathless, and his hips are still making these almost imperceptible movements against Andy, and Andy realizes that he's still grabbing Tom's hair and that he's a little breathless, too.

Tom looks down at him for a second, as if debating something with himself, before saying, "and like, not to be horny during a serious moment, but since we're talking about the effects of T... Andy. Andy. Your clit. Fuck. It's so huge now, and it's got a visible head and you can fuck my face and everything, and I could sing it praises for a week and probably will if you don't stop me right now."

"Hmm, but I like it when you sing me praises," he smiles. "Keep going."

"God, I was hoping you'd say that. Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about it today? I didn't hear a single word anyone said to me, all I could think about was you fucking my face, pulling my hair, making me worship you and beg to be allowed to suck you off, I wanna serve you like you're my God." Tom's hips start to jerk up, more visibly this time, shameless, and see, this is why Andy's been really, really liking this whole denial thing - Tom has only started to explore his subby side recently, a little ashamed of it to admit it to anyone, even himself. But when he's horny enough, he gets shameless and desperate about what he wants, and god, nothing is more beautiful than Tom when he asks for what he wants. He feels something growing inside of him, not sure if it's warmth or heat, but seeing Tom like that, wanting him, needing him, definitely makes him feel so much better.

"Yeah?" Andy asks, tracing a finger over Tom's shoulder, close to his neck, just to give him goosebumps.

"Fuck yes, I want it so bad, and you deserve it too, Andy… Sir. You're the best Sir I could ask for, I just want… Want you to use me, want you to cum on me, want to kiss you all over and worship you and pleasure you, you're so gorgeous..." He hides his face in Andy's shoulder for a bit, but his hips don't stop moving. He whines, "Andy..."

"Address me properly," Andy snaps, feeling the edges of worry clear from his mind and giving way to that wonderful feeling of clear-mindedness, of power, where nothing matters but his own pleasure. "And maybe I'll give you what you want, if you earn it."

Tom nods, hips full on thrusting now, and Andy snaps again. "Stay still."

And he does, immediately, without question, biting his lip and keeping his eyes shut with effort. Andy can feel his thighs clenching and spasming over his, trying to keep himself from moving, trying to be good. He hums in appreciation, but doesn't praise him for it, not yet.

"I'll get you ready," Andy explains, before reaching to Tom's hair, and starts to undo his bun, as slow as possible, just to watch him squirm. He gets so impatient when Andy undresses him, which is why Andy never misses a chance to drag it out.

He begins by removing Tom's jacket, sliding his hands slowly over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling the firm muscle there, digging his nails just a little bit so he can see Tom's eyes flutter in bliss. When the jacket falls to the floor, Andy begins circling the hem of his shirt, sliding until his hands are back on front, fingers just close enough to Tom's cock for him to feel Tom tense in his hands, so damn sensitive to his touch, so needy. God, he can't get enough of this, but he pretends that he doesn't notice, lets Tom try and keep himself together as Andy's hands slide over his belly, then chest, over the shirt, collarbone, wrapping and resting on Tom's throat just so he feels the threat of it, before Andy finally grabs the back of the shirt's collar and tugs, taking it off. Then he slides his hands back down, making sure to run a finger just over the sensitive spot where his pecs end, then lower, over his ribcage, belly, hips, next to the bruises where Andy had grabbed him the night before, then back to the middle, just over the bulge in his pants, and Tom finally breaks and jerks up slightly, letting out a little moan.

"Sir," he whines, "please, please, I-" Andy continues to circle the head of his cock with his finger, "please!"

"Patience," is all he says, before going back to his painfully light movements, imagining Tom's needy cock twitching under his fingers, imagining the effort Tom makes not to thrust up or keep begging for more, just because Andy told him not to. "You know how much I like playing with your pretty little cock. You said you wanted to serve me, didn't you?"

"Yes- yes, Sir."

He hums, noncommittally, not looking at him. "Good." He teases the tip of his clothed cock some more, enjoying the way his mind zeroes on that, the way he feels like he has all the power and the time in the world. Finally, he pats Tom's thigh once. "Get off, and take off the rest of your clothes. Get the lube and a condom."

Tom gets up, a little shaky, and does as instructed, while Andy reaches down to the drawer under the bed where he keeps his dick's spine and a few of their toys. He gets the spine, then adjusts his packer briefs so he can put it on - best purchase of his life, really, those briefs. So much easier to use than a regular strap-on and it makes the packer sit over his clit just right, making a little suction and pressure. Andy couldn't be happier that he was already wearing them.

Tom gets back with everything he asked right in time for Andy to finish making his dick hard, and goes on to put the condom on and cover Andy's cock in lube with the kind of attention that makes Andy hold his breath. Tom's so careful, yet eager, and adoring, about it. Andy feels like the hottest guy in the world.

Once he gets permission, Tom sits on his cock, slowly, getting adjusted to it - admittedly, Andy went a little overboard when he bought his first cock. Andy waits until Tom is fully seated, littering his neck with little kisses and praise for how well he's taking him, how pretty he looks, until Tom looks fully comfortable and ready to start complaining if Andy doesn't start fucking him in earnest soon. That's when Andy shows him the other item he pulled from the drawer - Tom's favorite collar.

Tom's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, moving over Andy's cock as he lets out a breathless, almost choked moan; the hands he had resting on Andy's shoulders suddenly squeezing full force in his need.

"God, you're such a whore," Andy says, casually, and Tom nods, even as he flushes. The collar is just a simple black one, with a little hoop for the leash, but inside they had it engraved with the words Andy's whore, and it left visible marks that could be seen for a few hours after they took it off. It never failed to drive Tom crazy, so it always drove Andy crazy, too. "Stay still," he warns, and Tom nods, breathing heavily, gripping Andy's shoulder as tight as he can as he stays frozen in place. Andy slowly puts it around his neck, checking with his finger to make sure it's not too tight, and the second he clasps it in place, Tom's whole body relaxes, a content little sigh escaping his lips, his face slack and blissed out. He likes being owned, so much. Andy can't get enough of it. "Good?" he asks, just to make sure it's not too tight.

"Perfect," Tom answers, the words leaving him in a sigh. Andy then ties the leash to the headboard, making sure that they're just far enough from it that he'll be feeling its pull the whole time. Tom lets out a moan. "Thank you, Sir."

Andy smirks. "Now, here's what I want you to do," he says, "you're going to ride me, just like that, and you're not going to come until I tell you to. You're definitely not going to come before I do. If you come close, you'll have to tell me. I want to hear you scream, so make as much noise as you want. Do you understand?"

Tom nods again, almost dizzyingly quick. "Yes, Sir."

"Good, then get to it."

Tom doesn't need to be told twice. He starts riding him, slowly at first, trying to find the perfect angle for Andy - not himself, Andy notices, pleased. Once it's perfect, Andy orders, "faster, slut,” and Tom obeys, as always, working up speed as he tries to keep himself upright, feeling the tug of his leash with every movement, moaning the whole time. “Good boy,” Andy says, and Tom’s responding whine is high pitched, embarrassing, needy. He gets even faster then, starting to babble as he keeps on working, and Andy just stays casually in place, not having to do a single thing while Tom works to give him pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, did you know that?" Tom asks, quickly sliding down on Andy's cock, making sure he puts all this weight in the end so Andy's cock will press down against his clit just the way he likes, making sure to go as deep as possible, "I've been dreaming of your cock for days, god, Sir, nothing's better than this," he hides his face in Andy's shoulder, speeding up even more, thighs shaking with the effort, and Andy puts a fist in his hair and pulls, watching as Tom throws his head back and lets out a scream, working even faster on Andy's cock. "Sir!," he whines, "oh, thank you, thank you, feels so good, oh my god, please, I'm gonna-"

"No, you won't," Andy interrupts, "I'm not even close to coming yet. Keep working, slut."

"Y-yes, Sir," he whines, going faster, deeper, and Andy makes it harder for him, keeps pulling at his hair to expose his neck, litters kisses and bites on his exposed throat, grabs his thigh and squeezes hard enough to bruise so Tom remembers he's his, his whore, his toy.

"I love it when you get like this," Andy says, doing his best to keep his tone even, even as he's a little breathless from pleasure, from power, "I bet you want to come so bad, don't you? If I'd just give you the word, you'd be making a mess of yourself, coming on my cock right now-"

"Fuck! Yes, yes, Sir, please, I'm so close."

Andy smiles. "No."

Tom whines, so cute, adorable, and Andy is nice enough to leave a little kiss on his shoulder, grounding, calming him down. Before going right back to torturing him, "no, you don't get to come for a long time yet. I want you just like this, on edge, tasting it…" Andy grins. "Tell me how close you are, baby."

"I'm- I'm so close-"

Andy slaps him in the face. "You can do better than that."

"Fuck, I feel like I'm going to explode, I'm so close, I want it so bad, and you feel so good, God, you have no idea what you do to me, Sir, your cock is so perfect, it hurts, I need it- need to cum on your cock, Sir, please-"

"No."

Tom chokes on a moan, and starts to go even faster. He lets out a little whine, something Andy thinks was supposed to be a word, but doesn't come close.

"See," Andy says, "this is why I won't let you come. Look at you - every time I tell you no, you get so desperate, so obedient - it's what you want, isn't it? You want me to keep telling you no, you want to know your pleasure doesn't matter, that you're just here to serve me."

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes-"

"Good, then keep going. And beg all you want- I like telling you no, too."

Tom does. He begs, and he says thank you when Andy denies him, again and again and again. Thank you, Sir, thank you for using me, for putting me in my place, I'm yours, I'm yours. And he keeps on praising Andy, praising his cock, his body, the way he fucks him and uses him, no one else makes me feel like this, no one deserves to be worshipped and served like you, Sir, I want to make you feel good-... Until even the clear-minded state of domspace begins to crumble and Andy feels nothing but pleasure, and confidence, and power, and he cums to the sound of Tom praising him and begging, once, twice, three times, until his head is clear again and everything, even the need to chase his own pleasure, is gone, and he just feels perfect.

"Stop," he orders Tom, who's still babbling more and more incoherently, endless praise and worship, and Andy finds that he worships Tom right back. "I want you to get my cock as deep inside you as you can, and stay still. I'm going to play with your dick for a while, and when I tell you to, you can come. You did well today, baby."

Tom nods, suddenly struggling to use his words. "T-thank you, Sir," he says, already frozen in place, thighs clenching with the effort not to move and also shaking with all the effort he did before.

Andy coos. "Poor baby. You were so good to me today. Let me take care of you."

"You always- always do, Sir," Tom replies, and Andy smiles.

He gives Tom a long, slow handjob, making sure Tom stays still through it, enjoying the way his thighs shake on top of Andy's, the pressure of Tom sitting tight on his cock, the way his arms also shake with effort where they rest around Andy's neck; Tom's pretty, exposed throat all marked up around his collar, his breathless little whines as Andy makes sure to do it just the way he likes it, makes his cock turn red with need; watches Tom bite his lip, because when he has to keep still he becomes so quiet and needy, even as the little whines go through his lips… Until Andy finally says, "come for me, baby," and Tom screams through an orgasm that lasts almost a minute, hanging on to Andy as tightly as he can to keep himself anchored through the pleasure.

And then Andy holds him, and Tom holds him back, and they hold each other.

----

A while later, they've cleaned up Tom's cum so it doesn't get all sticky on Andy's chest, and Andy's finally taken off those damn briefs - they're great for sex, but get pretty tight when you wear them for a long time - and Andy holds Tom against his chest. He's humming, contently, and if anyone had told him at the beginning of the day that he'd be comfortable enough to have someone close to him while he's fully naked, he'd - well, probably assume they meant Tom, but still be skeptical.

"How do you feel?" Tom asks after a little while, finally opening up his eyes and saying hello to the world.

"That's supposed to be my line," Andy laughs.

"I feel great. Perfect. Next time, I wanna do it for longer. A week? Let's try a week. Or two weeks…?"

Andy laughs. "Let's not make too big of a leap yet."

"Fine. A week sounds good. Great. And now that we've established that denial is totally bomb for me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I'm feeling great, too," Andy admits, playing with a little stray of Tom's hair, swirling it around his finger, "I think I needed that, a little bit. Who'd have thought that having you ride me and praise my cock cures dysphoria."

"Every trans top on every forum I've ever visited."

"Let me have my moment of realization," Andy mumbles, faux-annoyed. Tom just laughs, holding him closer.

"I'm just glad I could help," he says.

"Please tell me you didn't ride my cock just to help."

"Well, no, in case you hadn't noticed, I was horny as fuck. I just tried to, you know. Use that to give you a little push. Since you wanted to. Y'know. Also, it was all true. So..."

"Thanks, love," Andy says, earnestly. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They bicker about it, and Andy's smiling the rest of the day.

[psychopersonified]

Who’s the brunette?

Part of the prequel series to "Are we ever going to talk about this?".

I'll post little snippets of their 'not dating' days in this series. Little events that draw them together and the intimacy they share in plain sight.

This particular snippet happens Monday after the Friday party in “Keep Calm. Dance On.”

------

“Oh 007, did you hear? There is the most unusual rumour going around. Seems someone thought they saw the Quartermaster leave last week’s party in an Aston Martin DB5? You wouldn’t know anything about this would you?”

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

Monday 8:30am - SIS HQ.

The lift doors open at Parking Level 2 to admit a well rested and impeccably put together Eve Moneypenny.

“Moneypenny, morning. How are you?” Bond says in greeting.

“007. You’re early,” she skips the greeting, her tone a little frosty as she gets into the lift and turns around to face the doors.

“So it’s 007 today? May I know what I’ve done to deserve it this time?” Bond knows enough about women to know that it is always his fault.

“IF you’re interested… someone I call a friend left me all alone at a party last Friday.”

Bond freezes... ah that. He’d completely forgotten. He drops his head in embarrassment. After all, It was Eve who convinced him to attend. A decision he was incredibly grateful to her for. He recalls the night and how he spent it in the company of a leggy brunette.  

“Ah… I must apologise. That was terribly ungentlemanly of me,” pause, he needs to get himself out of the doghouse, “How can I make it up to you?”

“Well, for starters, you might tell me who it was that caught your attention. So much so that you left a good friend high and dry?” She’s laying it on a bit thick, but where would the fun be otherwise?

“What makes you think it was a someone? It was an office party after all.”

Eve leans over to him, a hand reaching up towards Bond’s shoulder. He’s still wearing his outer coat, having come straight up from the parking garage. Her hand comes back with a strand of hair between her fingers; she holds it up in front of his eyes - it clearly isn’t his.

“Who’s the brunette?” She teases him.

Bond schools his face into a neutral expression looking straight ahead. Bloody spies and their deductive skills.

-Ding!- The lift announces its next stop on Ground Level. The lift doors open, revealing a small group of people waiting for the lift - including Q, R and Mark at the front.

Everyone squeezes in. The lift is packed tight, yet no one wants to take the second lift; a result of the lifts being notoriously slow during rush hours.

There is a chorus of polite greetings:-

“Good Morning.”

“Excuse me.”

“Pardon. Which level?”

“How’s it going?”

“Level 7 please. Thanks.”

There is some awkward shifting as the occupants arrange themselves according to who is going to alight first.

Q ends up standing in front of Bond, back to him.

Eve has a mischievous glint in her eyes. She still has the strand of hair between her fingers. So she lifts it and holds it up to the back of Q’s head. The colour and length is an exact match.

Bond slides his eyes towards her. He wants to smack her hand away. They are in a packed lift for Christssake. Eve’s little action catches R’s attention and she tilts her head thoughtfully at them. Eve shots her a meaningful look.

The lift dings their arrival at Level 3. Five people alight except for Bond, Eve, Q, R and Mark - they are headed for the Executive floor on Level 12 to their respective meetings.

The remaining occupants sigh in relief. They start moving apart to give each other more personal space. But before they can do that, six more SIS employees enter - making it worse than before.

“Hold the lift please! Thanks!” A -seventh- person calls just as the doors start to close. A breathless Accounts Department employee squeezes her way in while struggling to carry two cardboard boxes of files. Everyone has to politely shuffle closer to the back to make room.

Bond is forced all the way to the back corner of the lift, the hand rails digging into his back. Eve has to move to the other corner. He can’t help but roll his eyes in annoyance. Why couldn’t M see him later in the morning?

This leaves the Quartermaster on his side of the lift. Q also has to shift back but accidentally steps on Bond’s expensive Italian leather shoe and jolts away too quickly in apology - nearly losing his balance.

“Oh! My apologies—,” It comes out as a rushed whisper.

“—you’re alright.” Bond places his hands on Q’s waist to steady him. Q is wearing only a cardigan made from the softest cashmere over his dress shirt and tie. Bond can feel the warmth of the flesh underneath. He uses the slightest pressure to pull Q backwards into his personal space, so that the others can move in.

Q’s right shoulder blade makes contact with one of Bond’s pectorals. But the younger man makes no protest, on the contrary - unless Bond’s imagining it, he feels Q lean further into the touch. They are pressed close in the compact space, he can smell the fresh scent of Q’s soap and shampoo.

Maybe there is some good that comes from being in crowded lifts. The rest of the ride up feels like an eternity spent in awkward silence for everyone inside with the only distraction being the soft jazzy elevator music. It feels like the lift made a stop at every floor.

Bond does not remove his hands until the lift arrives at Level 12 where M’s office is located. They all alight. Bond and Moneypenny head directly to M’s office. The techies movie off to the conference room for the monthly joint Ops meeting.

Eve waits until she is alone with Bond just outside of her office to ask:

“Oh 007, did you hear? There is the most unusual rumour going around. Seems someone thought they saw the Quartermaster leave last week’s party in an Aston Martin DB5? You wouldn’t know anything about this would you?”

Busted. Yes, so he did spend the party stuck to the Quartermaster’s side. And yes, he did steal Q out for a post revelry kebab supper - which may have included a long stroll along the river after. Finally yes, he did make sure Q got to his doorstep at the end of the very late night/early morning, but only out of concern for his safety.

Bond considers his options.“Name your price.”

“What exactly are you implying? I’m offended that you’d think I’d stoop to blackmail—“ Eve places a hand over her heart in mock indignation, “—but I suppose since you do owe me an apology…” She bats her eyelashes at him.

She mulls over it, “There is this restaurant in Soho, it’s booked out for months. But I’m sure you have your ways around it. My family is in town next week.”

She unlocks the door to the office, letting them both in. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Consider it done.” Bond assures her courtly, he really was sorry about ditching her on Friday. Nevertheless, he is surprised at how easy he is being let off on this - when you consider how protective Eve can be over their Chief Boffin.

“Aren’t you going to warn me off?” Bond wonders aloud.

“Do I have to? It is still just a harmless game... isn’t it?” She searches his face for any indication otherwise, though she reckons she knows the answer even if Bond himself doesn’t know it yet.

He holds the door open for her. M arrives behind them cutting off any answer he might have.

———

Friday 4:30pm - SIS HQ

If Bond has to hear about North Korea again in the next 3 months, it would still be too soon. He had just finished an all day strategy conference with Mallory, 009 and their Korean Station Chief about how MI6 was going to extract their operatives embedded in the regime in the face of the recent crackdowns.

It is not that he’s being insensitive, the meeting is critical and he had played his part in contributing to the discussion and assessing the tactics available to them. It is just that both M and 009 have a tendency to prattle on (his opinion) and discuss ad nauseam every detail, while 007 prefers to… well, get on with it.

Unsurprisingly the meeting ran overtime and Bond is feeling peckish. And when his blood sugar runs low, his patience runs thin. At least this time, he had managed to behave long enough for the meeting to end.

It takes him 20 excruciating minutes to reach Q-Branch. It is Friday afternoon, and like any other civil service, MI6 lobbies and lifts are a hive of activity with most employees trying to wrap up for an early weekend.

Most of the time was spent waiting for the lifts, and then riding the lift, then letting people in and then out the lift - there has to be a better system to organise the lift service.

Bond is inordinately relived when he finally arrives at Q-Branch all the way in the basement floors of the building.

Once he’s through the doors, he makes a beeline for Q’s office nook and Q’s desk. The man is not around, but Bond helps himself with familiar ease. Bond pulls open the second drawer and retrieves a bar of protein snack from the stash in the drawer.

He is almost finished with the bar when he realises that Q has not returned to his desk and is nowhere to be seen on the work floor. Curious, he makes a circuit of the floor trying to be surreptitious.

Jamila catches him ‘not’ looking and puts him out of his misery. “He’s downstairs, in the Firearms Lab with 003,” she doesn’t bother asking if he is there on official business.

Bond tries not to look like he’s been caught, but manners win out and he attempts a casual, “...Thank you.” - his feet starting to carry him towards the main doors.

“Badge!” Jamila calls out to remind him.

Bond backtracks smoothly, heading to Q’s desk and that second drawer to grab his blasted employee ID badge that he keeps in there. He can get away without it on the upper floors, but the Lower Ground labs contain live ammunition and thus require extra authentication for security.

—-

The labs are a study of industrial utilitarian design - an amalgamation of concrete, steel and glass.

003 is easy to locate. Her stunning if scant evening gown incongruous in the surroundings. Bond can only see her from the back. She has one stiletto heel resting on something in front of her.

As he draws nearer, his viewing angle changes and he can see what or more accurately who her heel is propped up on.

Their Quartermaster is on one knee in front of her. The toes of her shoe resting on his thigh. The side slit of the dress is cut high and hides very little.

Q is adjusting her thigh holster, a specially designed and fabricated skin-coloured thing worn fairly high on the leg to make it less obvious. To improve stability, the holster is anchored with clips that connect directly to 003’s one piece undergarment.  

“Oh Q, the material is perfect - incredibly comfortable, but the fit needs to be tighter.” She provides him with feedback. When she looks up, she catches Bond in the reflection of a nearby glass wall - watching them with wide blue eyes.  

“Yes, right. There is an adjustment strap on the inside so all you have to do is… “ Q pulls at the tab - careful not to touch her skin in so much as he can, seeing that the tab is located near the inner thigh. 003 gathers her skirt up higher to allow him better access.

From Bond’s angle, their combined actions are grossly inappropriate.

“…pull this tab to adjust for the required fit. We’ve gone with the new hook-and-loop fasteners so they shouldn’t catch on most fabrics, even delicate ones. This should allow you to use it with any frock of your choice.“ Q explains still oblivious.

“How thoughtful of you Q. I don’t suppose you could make them in… lace trim?” She says to the top Q’s head, smirking into the refection, raising a perfect eyebrow at 007.

“We can make them in any colour or trim you’d like 003. Just let us know what you need. Please allow for a few weeks though, as the elastane base material is specially sent for.” Q looks up at her with a shy smile.

“Oh you spoil us Q. We never had such personalised service until you came along.” She coos down at him while she ran one hand lightly through his hair combing back his fringe while the other formed a hooked finger under his chin to tip his head up to her.

003 is wearing a self-satisfied grin. What a picture they made! Her deft manoeuvring had Q looking like the very picture of a besotted young man attending submissively to his object of infatuation.

She sees 007 in the refection clenching and unclenching his hands. Whoops…. she knows 007, having worked him with him over the years. They get along fine. But this new development is interesting. What is his problem anyway?

Perhaps it would be best to end this here for now.

“Well, thank you Quartermaster. I’d best not take up anymore of your time. Will it be alright if I stayed here to have a chat with 007?” She dismisses him politely, adjusting her skirt and removing her heel from his thigh.

“Oh, yes of course. Sure.” Q stands, brushing his trousers.

“Ah 007, I didn’t see you there—,” the sentence is cut off when Q catches Bond’s blazing blue eyes and dark expression and is confused, “D… did you need anything?”

Bond schools his expression back to neutral. “Not at the moment. Just need a quick word with 003. Meet you back upstairs?”

Q collects his tablet and nods his leave to both of the agents.

When Q is out the doors, 007 closes the distance between him and 003 - who to her credit is not cowed. Instead of stepping back, she steps sideways and the two double-0 agents circle each other for a few moments.

“Oh don’t look at me like that!” she finally says, exasperated with his posturing, also she was getting dizzy with the circling. They were friends, well as much as trained assassins with trust issues can be.

“You—,” she points a finger at him, “—need to learn how to share. You monopolised all of his time last Friday night! After that delicious display of his, I’d like to take him out clubbing and see what else is hiding under that cardigan wearing persona.” She confesses, but still annoyed at 007.

She makes a squeezing motion with her hands, a gesture usually reserved for when talking about cute animals, “He’s so adorable I want to stuff him in my pocket--,” then she indicates to her skin tight dress, “—if I had any.”

Bond is not moved. He feels like they are siblings negotiating playtime allotment with a favourite pet or toy. Well, he was an only child and he had never learnt to share.

“The rest of us would like to play too you know. Alec says—,” 003 nearly throws a tantrum.

“He’s not a plaything!” Bond’s vehement whisper surprises even him. Where did that come from?

“Pot. Kettle…” Comes her practiced reply. But something in his tone catches up to her. She studies him closer. Bond appears to be grappling internally with his own words.

-Oh.My.God- Can it be? 003 abandons her petulant tantrum. The adult slipping back into place.

“You’re not… playing anymore are you?” the question comes from a place of genuine interest.

No answer. Just a sullen 007 staring at his feet, hands in his pockets.

“Huh! Of all the people you choose...” She shakes her head at him.

Well then, there is only one thing left to do. She comes right up close to him, cups his face in her perfectly manicured hands, forcing him to look at her - then says with as much sisterly fondness as she could muster:-

“Don’t. Cock. It. Up.”

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

Note: If you liked this fic, there’s more like it on the blog. Including my take on a kidnapped Q. Enjoy!

[beanie-beebo-writes]

Highway To Hell

Series Summary: An all-too-real nightmare and a missing brother sends Dean, Bobby, and Cas on a frantic search. All the while, what may be a bad dream leads to a probable jump-start to Dean's true worst nightmare, Sam jump-starting the end of the world. Set in season 4; consider this a parallel canonverse fic

Previous chapter, Masterlist

Chapter 2

Bobby awoke to the shrills of a cell phone on his night stand; he grumbled and looked over at the clock. The bright red numbers made his eyes hurt for a moment, but he quickly made out the time to be 3:55 AM. He answered the phone without checking the caller ID, not feeling alert enough to squint at another bright device.

"This better be damn important." He grumbled into the phone.

As soon as he heard Dean's distraught voice on the other end, he instantly perked up with anxiety.

"Okay Dean, where are you?"

After Dean informed of his location, Bobby promised he would be there in a couple hours, snapped his phone shut, and jumped out of bed. Although he was awoken from a rare deep sleep, it couldn't compare to family. He had dropped everything and ran to them more times than he could count, no matter the severity of the situation. With the life he carried on his shoulders, the situations he found himself in were often serious than not.

Bobby grabbed his hunting duffle, his keys, and head out the door in a flash. Knowing the situation was likely too serious to describe over the phone, he floored what he could of his hearty truck.

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean paced for hours, or at least that's how long it felt. There wasn't much he could do; there wasn't any logical thing he could think of. His brain was jumbled in a large, endless knot.

He honestly didn't know what he would do without Bobby; his brain would have probably just spiraled at one point, honestly.

While he had waited for Bobby's arrival, he contacted multiple other hunters, just in case. It turns out that many of them had not seen Sam since they last hunted together, which ranged anywhere from months ago to years ago. And none of them had seen Sam within the past twenty four hours, which left him as hopeless as he felt when he got nothing out of a stupid freaking demon.

Dean's thoughts were put to an abrupt halt as he heard a familiar rumble from outside the motel room. He cautiously peeked through the curtains and unlocked the door when he recognized Bobby's old pickup. The man made no dawdle to get inside; he instantly gripped onto Dean's stiff back after bolting the door. It could have easily caused a meltdown, but they shelved their emotions before a single tear was shed.

"What's going on, son?" Bobby asked softly.

"I-I don't know," Dean replied with a hoarse voice, "I woke up, and Sam was just..." -Dean almost whispered- "..gone."

"Did you contact anyone else? Try to get some sort of lead?"

"What do you think I've been doing for the past few hours? Well, besides trying to put a trench into this carpet here."

Bobby sighed. "Nothing?"

Dean hung his head and shook it. "Nothing."

A heavy silence hung over them as different ideas tossed around in their heads.

"Well, he didn't take your car, so that gives us one less opportunity. But we could definitely check some traffic cams, for starters." Bobby said.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that before.." Dean replied.

Hours later, both of them had again come across nothing, after searching over a hundred and fifty different traffic cameras within 100 miles of their current location. It was almost as if Sam, or whoever took Sam, completely avoided the camera. Dean's eyes began to droop involuntarily as cars occasionally flew past the screen. Bobby almost didn't notice, until the table shook gently from Dean jerking himself awake.

"You should get a couple hours of rest, I've got it from here." Bobby said.

"But I've gotta find Sam." Dean slurred.

"You can't find Sam if you can't even keep your eyes open, boy. We can switch in a couple hours if we need to." Bobby replied.

Dean blinked, he was too tired to put up a fight. He didn't really want to fall into the realm of sleep, since he normally was deprived from numerous nightmares; they were inevitable. He reluctantly dragged himself to his still unmade bed, and instantly crashed; the sound of Bobby tapping on the keyboard barely reaching his eardrums.

                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~

There was blackness, so much of it. Oddly, it wasn't threatening. It was actually quite… comforting. Was he dreaming, or was he finally at peace for a couple hours? Dean looked around at the endless darkness that expanded to seemingly nowhere; something seemed off. His whole life, for as long as he could remember, this never happened, not once.

Just as he suspected, he heard something say his name. From where? Well, who knows. Weird was his specialty, his normal. For all he knew, he could have been pulled onto another spacecraft. The thought of being prodded at caused him to shudder. The being spoke to him again, sounding somewhat less distant. It was a male voice, it sounded like..

"Dean, we need to talk."

Dean glared at the angel wearing his young father's meatsuit. He didn't want to be a pet, not again.

"What, do you wait until I finally have some peace and quiet to bug me? Sorry, whatever you're selling, I'm not buying it." Dean grunted.

"I'm afraid this is just as important to you as it is to me." Michael replied sternly.

Unphased, Dean raised his eyebrows. Michael sighed in annoyance.

"Of course you wouldn't see it, you're a Winchester."

He placed two fingers onto the hunter's forehead, and an image instantly flooded into the darkness, until it wasn't an image, but a physical place. It was a convent, not long abandoned. The room Dean currently stood in seemed to be one of the main service rooms. And smack in the middle of it? Was his brother.

"Sammy!" He cried out.

"This isn't real time Dean, it's the future. This is what is currently at stake."

His brother's back was to him, but he could sense that what Sam was doing was nowhere near good. Silently, Dean approached him, feeling as if Sam could turn around and grab him. That precaution was nothing compared to the fear he felt when he saw his brother's face. Sam may have had the same outward appearance, but what Dean saw in his eyes, he didn't recognize. Even in this memorex-created reality, he could feel powerful waves of energy rolling off of his brother; it could make someone crap their pants. If he didn't know him, he would try to kill him.

Suddenly, the waves of power greatly increased and rapidly began to bounce around the room. Even though Dean knew he wouldn't likely be hurt in this scenario, he backed off cautiously as Sam's eyes turned into black orbs. The room started to shake and a light began to creep from the blood on the floor. The light grew too bright to look at, but Dean felt himself strangely looking on, unaffected. He blinked and another figure stood in front of Sam. As Dean's eyes adjusted, the figure became clear enough to send shivers down his spine.

"Hi Sammy." Lucifer grinned.

Dean/Jensen tags: @akshi8278​

[sexysilverstrider]

Bro HOW do you get villagers to leave your island... I timeskipped MONTHS and still no one wants to leave ????

thats how much they love you

jskbfjdk well for starters i have at least 5 villagers in my island (i read somewhere tht 3 is enough for them to start leaving but my 1st villager left when there were 5 in the island so id start with 5)

so after thats done all you need to do is ignore them. LITERALLY do not talk to them. ignore them. pretend they dont exist. dont send letters. dont even whack them because thatll cause them to talk to you. just pretend theyre the ghost on the island and if they start running towards you to talk, get away from them.

heres the thing i learned. while you ignore ONE (1) that you wish to leave, talk to the other villagers. i read somewhere tht if you ignore more than 1 villager the options start to randomize. i learned that the hard way when judy tangy and kyle asked if they can leave. kyle asked me 3 times and there are no emotions other than betrayal and rage in me everytime he asked.

if your villager is a lazy villager, be prepared for some hard level ignoring coz lazy villagers are....persistent.

also, try to do daily nook mile chores while u talk to all the villagers EXCEPT the one you want to kick out. since youre the type to timeskip u can skip once per day to hv the relationship build up (n gather nook miles while youre at it). then after saaaay between 7-10 days i started skipping one month or two months n hopefully the villager you want out finally asks you when u see a thought bubble above their head c:

[fieryfafarfanfics]

Ecstatic Requiem 2

 Cold wind welcomes her presence through the calming, serene caress on her skin.  Her head holds up high, chin tilts upwards before a single breath of air is inhale slowly. Hands carefully pressed against the Charizard’s back, Kotone adjusts her position and exhales through her mouth. “What a great day, Charlie!” Her smile beams like a thousand suns. Hazel eyes peek at the purring Kanto fire starter. Slim fingers give little scratches on the places she knows the Pokémon loves, and this only widens her smile once she hears a gentle roar.  Beep! Beep!  Her attention is then robbed by the sound of her Pokégear. One hand digs into the pocket of her black pants. Upon taking the device out, Kotone feels the Butterfrees in her stomach to see the name on the screen. With a simple swipe of her thumb, she opened the message.  Skitty <3: honey, r u done w the boring meetings and stuff?  Her hearts skips faster at two things. One: the sole fact that he typed ‘honey’, and two: him.

 Quickly fingers start to reply his text.  Me: darling! yes I hv ♡(ŐωŐ人) are u done wiping out the other trainers?  A few seconds pass by. Beep! Beep!  Skitty <3: uuuuugh nope. i still hv 7 more left  Warm eyes widen in shock.  Me: eh??? theres still more???  Her body leans a bit forward for stability. As for Charlie, upon realizing that Kotone is no longer pressing her palms against her back, she slows down.  Skitty <3: yes theres more. n im more annoyd too. i told them im gonna hv a small break rn bt i swear if this keeps going ill just fight the pokemon myself  A snort slips out.  Me: id love to see that (♡´౪`♡) at least you beat them all right?  Skitty <3: uuuuuugh nope  She can vividly hear his adorably annoyed groan. Before she can reply, another text beeps in.  Skitty <3: 3 trainers surprisingly (and annoyingly) beat me. lucky they arent cocky assholes like ur cousin.  Me: im gonna screenshot this to white fyi  Skitty <3: ANYWAYS,  Laughter bubbles in the chill, orange sky.  Skitty <3: those trainers wanna battle u next bt i told them to battle u tmrrw.  Me: eh really? i can go there and battle them later tonight tho  Skitty <3: no  A single eyebrow raises in confusion.  Me: why???? (・∧‐)ゞ  Skitty <3: coz ur mine tonite  If it weren’t for Charlie’s fast reflexes, Kotone probably would have slide down off her back.  Flush of red kisses her tanned cheeks. The same cheeks then puff slowly. The long end of her ponytail tickles the side of her neck, and Kotone is at lost on whether the shivers in her body is due to the hair or text.  Quickly she texts back.  Me: someones possessive (♡´艸`)  Skitty <3: u hv no idea hw possessive i can be when it comes to you  God, Kotone wants to scream right now.  Face now filled with heated swirls, she peeks at the screen.  Me: cant wait to find out tonight then (⺣◡⺣)♡*  Skitty <3: i hope ur ready then my love  Dead! I’m dead! Screams echo in her mind as Kotone bends forward against the Charizard’s back. He’ll be the death of me! Giddy giggles burst from pretty pink lips. Her legs start to wiggle forward and back, obviously catching the attention of her confused Kanto starter.  Charlie’s wings continue to flap, but her attention has now been stolen by her excited trainer. A smile of her own curls the edges of her mouth. She knows damn well the only person who could make her trainer act and feel such a way was none other than the redhead. Puffs of light smoke slips out of her nostrils, Charlie emits what can be depicted as a chuckle and flies forward.  After letting it out of her system, Kotone carefully sits up straight and releases a long line of air. After texting each other their ‘I love you’s, she tucks the communication device back into her pocket. Her smile now ever present, both hands are brought up to tap each warm cheek.  God, she feels so lucky to have him.  Slowly her attention comes back to the skies. A nice, orange hue slowly, warmly envelopes the sky. There are less flying-types around as Charlie soars, so peace and quiet truly wraps the trainer’s senses.  Hazel eyes cast down, and a soundly gasp escapes pink lips at the sight of a place she hadn’t been to in a while.  “Charlie,” she called the Charizard. Magnificent blues meet warm hazels. “Can you bring us down to Ilex Forest?” ---  The air always feels fresh whenever she arrives at the place.  Arms stretch comfortable to the sides. The air is a bit chillier once she reaches the ground, and Kotone honestly loves the feel of it against her arms and neck. Feeling fatigue being washed away from fresh air alone, she plops her hands to the sides. Eyes turn to her Charizard, right hand now holding the starter’s ball as a silent question if she wants to get back in.  With a single nod from Charlie, Kotone flashes a smile and returns her.  Ball shrunk and clipped onto the belt of her pants, Kotone then looks around the forest. It has been years since she last stepped foot, but awe and wonderment always splash her face to witness the breath-taking scene. It seems that the forest hasn’t changed a bit, hence it brings back a small twinge of nostalgia in her heart.    Her mind wanders as her feet walks around the forest. Sounds of slumbering Hoothoots catch her ears. Sights of Caterpies and Weedles frolicking about opens a box of reminiscences in her heart. Ah how she misses being a teenager again. When she first stepped into the peaceful forest, she was 16 at that time. Soft giggles bubble out when she remembers her famous pigtails and puffy hat.  Skitty always hates that puffy hat. Giggles evolve into innocent laughter.  She remembers that Azalea Town was the place she had met Silver for the third time. While their early encounters weren’t exactly pleasant in the least, Kotone always treasures each and every memory into her heart. Each memory plays like a movie, and she truly means that literally when she learned Mewtwo has the ability to form one’s memories to a clear, vivid, realistic image.  She finds that useful for her future child when they would ask questions such as how she and Silver met.  Ah, her face is blushing again.  “Geez…” Her heart beats ever so gleefully every time she thinks of him.  Again she gives her cheeks little taps. At the same time, her feet has stopped, and it takes Kotone a second to realize that she is standing before the Ilex Forest Shrine. “Oh!” Surprise and amusement trickle pass her tongue. Taking a few steps forward, Kotone gazes at the spectacular shrine.  Its design was simplistic as ever, yet bears so many memories and significances for the people of Azalea Town. The wooden pillars remain strong, though now covered in small vines on some ends. A few berries and fruits can be seen; Kotone assumes they were offerings from the people and Pokémon alike for the shrine’s owner.  Celebi.  The name rings in her head. Wind caresses her arms gently, tracing tickles on the finest hairs on her skin. Every time her thoughts wander to the legendary, Kotone can never forget the story Silver had told her.  How he had technically died after saving her. How he was plunged into a cold abyss. How his soul withered, his mind blank from the acceptance of his timely death.  She couldn’t imagine the indescribable horror he had gone through when he told her. Just the mere thought of it once brings tears to her eyes.  Deep breaths inhaled deep into her lungs. He is fine now, she assures herself. Kotone keeps the reminder firm and planted. Celebi had saved him from his death. Celebi actually rewrote the past in order to keep him breathing again. The Time Travel Pokémon even let Silver meet his mother one last time, giving the dead a proper goodbye before he comes back to the living.  Hazel eyes gleam at the stories he told her. Silver… The pain he went through was unimaginable. The life he grew up in was anything but human. To know such a child went through hell on earth at such a young age…her skin prickles at the fearful thought.  No human can survive being sane as long as Silver has.  Sullen gaze falls on the breath-taking shrine. “Silver…” His name lulls through her lips like a heavy prayer. How she wishes she can go back in time. How she wishes she can help him even before they were properly met. All the words she wants to say for him. All the reassurance she would give to a child who had lost everything.  Hands rub up and down her arms.  Suddenly, sorrow pops into caution when she hears rustling from behind. Quickly she reaches for Damien’s Pokéball; one heel had turned and sight sharpened to one of wary. “Who’s there?” The noise sounds too heavy for a Pokémon in the area. Kotone would assume it came from a human, probably a trainer going on an adventure just like her before. But the sky above is shrouded in darkness, and it isn’t so wrong to be cautious of any danger that lurks in the night.  Especially given from a woman who had gone through hell and once became danger herself.  “Kotone?”  Once the voice lulls into her ears, Kotone immediately feels her muscle loosen.  “Hibiki!” Caution turns to joy. Fingers casually unwrapped around the Typhlosion’s Pokéball.  Finally able to walk out of the thick bushes, Hibiki brushes off the dead leaves off his arms and head. “Kotone!” Joy rings just as true as hers. Without hesitance, he briskly walks towards her for an embrace. Arms open wide, the young man hugs her by the shoulders and gives her a little squeeze. “Oh my Arceus, it is you!”  “Ya!” Laughter bubbles out of pretty pink lips. She returns his embrace with one of her own. “Wow, what’re you doing here?” Pulling away to look at him, Kotone gives his arms a little shake.  “Oof,” he winces slightly, “watch your strength there.” Laughter pops out with a mixture of surprise. Being the Johto Champion really does have its perks. “Anyways, I was just doing some field study.” Once and twice he rolls his arms.  Surprise widens a pair of hazels. “Field study? At 8 at night?”  He knew she would be shocked by his activities. “Yeah.” Once again he laughs. Grey eyes gleam as bright as his innocent smile. “I usually do my routine check-ups at night, you know. There are some nocturnal Pokémon out and about when I least expect it, so I figured it would be nice to not miss any opportunity there is.” Hands plop comfortably by his sides. “Besides, doing field studies at night really gives me a peace of mind since there aren’t any trainers or so many rowdy Pokémon around.”  He has a point, as he always does when it comes to Pokémon research. “I see you’re really excelling in the field.” A proud smile shines upon her lips. “And hey, I also see that the field gave you a great workout too.” Lightly she punches his left arm. Cheeks shroud in pink at the compliment. “Well, I still have a long way to go, though.” One hand scratches the back of his head. “You’re not so bad yourself. I see constant training and battling really put some muscles in you.” His comment is replied with a sweet laugh. As sheepish as he is to receive such compliments from his childhood friend, Hibiki wouldn’t lie that he is in awe of her hidden strength.  “Well…” Feeling slight conscious of the compliment of her body, Kotone taps her fingers gingerly. “I gotta stay fit if I want to catch up to younger trainers and defend my title.”  “I can see that.” A nod is given. It takes him a few minutes, but realization then hits when he can’t find the presence of another champion. “By the way, Silver isn’t with you?”  “Oh,” she chirped, “nah, he’s busy battling trainers at the Indigo League.”  “At this hour?” Now it is his turn to have shock plastered on his face. “It’s really late. Shouldn’t the League have like…closing times or something?”  A sigh leaves her lips. “It does, but it’s until 10. So for now, as long as there are trainers itching to battle after collecting all the gym badges of Kanto and—or—Johto, the Elite Four and us Champions have to get ready.” Honestly, explaining the concept alone is tiring. But much to no one’s surprise, she still manages to defend her title for 8 years. True, Silver has beaten her more times that she kept count, but she also has taken back her title from him many times than one can keep tally. In the end, Lance, the Elite Four, and the Indigo League management agreed to have two separate champions reigning on each region.  It’s quite adorable when she thinks about it; the Champion of Kanto and Champion of Johto are the loving, fearsome husband and wife couple.    “So anyways,” Another sigh slides off her mouth, “I’m just here walking around in Ilex Forest, getting some fresh air.” Hazel eyes look at the shrine behind her. “And of course, looking at the shrine behind me.”  Hibiki doesn’t say much, instead nods in understanding. “I see…” Lower lips juts in thought, he gives his attention to the holy place before him. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d love to keep you company. It’s been a while since we’ve hanged out.” A few steps are taken until he stands next to her. His smile widens at her acceptance.  “Thanks, Hibiki.” She doesn’t mind the company. In truth, she misses her best friend as well.  Suddenly, before any of them could actual start a conversation, a bright light beams a few steps away from them. The shock and light briefly dazzle them both. One has his arms shielded in front of squinted eyes. One once again grips her starter’s Pokéball while shielding her eyes with one hand.   “W-What’s going on?!” Fear of the unknown pierces his tone. None answers his question, though the light unfortunately shines brighter and brighter.  “I don’t know.” Through gritted teeth she replies. A Pokéball has been unclipped from her belt, but the blinding ray causes her to flinch in her place.  Luckily, no heat nor chill harms them both. But with confusion and fear overpowering them, Kotone lightly curses under her breath as she tries to get her body to move.  “…bi—”  Irises shrink in the middle of hazels when she hears a faint sound.  “…C…e…bii—”  That sound! She knows that sound! The owner of the holy shrine. The guardian of the forest. The saviour of Silver’s life. While Kotone herself has never met the Time Travel Pokémon personally, she knows it in her heart that this strange light was Celebi’s doing.  “Cele—bi—” The name slurs out in broken hisses. Trying to find and reason with the tiny legendary, Kotone tries to scoot one foot forward. The light, to her dismay, only gets brighter and brighter, almost rivalling the sun. Hoping to Arceus that her next action won’t blind her, Kotone sucks in a deep breath and drops her hands.  Hazel eyes—though in pain of the menacing gleam—manage to spot the green shape of the creature who is causing glimmering commotion. “Please sto—!”  Before any words could be breathed out, the light—along with the two baffled humans—disappear in a blink.

[idreamofhazel]

The Boyking: Chapter 5

Masterpost

Characters/pairings: Dean, Bobby, Ash, Jo, Castiel; Dallas, Sam, Ruby (we’ve got a whole ensemble this chapter!)

 Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: This story is overall angsty. Read the masterpost description to get the full idea. I will put specific, important warnings on each chapter unless there are none.

A/N: Thank you all for your patience as I continue working on this story <3

At noon the next day, a rusted 1971 C10 pulled up in front of Bobby’s house - like most of the vehicles on Bobby’s lot, it had seen better days.

Bobby stepped out on his front porch, Dean trailing behind him. Bobby hollered across the front lot as the passengers opened their doors. “That truck made it here from Nebraska?”

Ash and Jo stepped out of the cab, Jo from the driver’s side.

Ash shut his door and gave the orange-tinged turquoise hood a couple of good pats. “This baby here would take us anywhere. I’ve added a few of my own enhancements.”

“He means we,” Jo said, coming up to the porch to hug Bobby. “And I put a full tank of gas in her as soon as I got your call last night.”

The two quickly embraced. When they had finished, Jo turned to Dean and simply said, “Hey.”

Dean replied with an uncomfortable smile.

Ash came up onto the porch hugging a large file to his chest, most of it hidden underneath one side of his unbuttoned cut-off flannel. He carefully looked around the lot before whispering, “We need to talk... inside.”

Bobby raised his brows at Dean, who mirrored the expression as he opened the front door to let the guests in.

Dean took their small duffel bags and placed them down the hall as they gathered in the sitting room, Bobby offering refreshments for the travelers. He came out of the kitchen with a couple glasses of water as Dean came back to the sitting room.

Dean grabbed Bobby’s desk chair, pulled it close to the coffee table, and sat down. “So, Ash, what’ve you found?”

Ash dropped the file onto the table with a loud slam then opened it somewhere in the middle. He took a paper-clipped stack of pages out of the pile and slid it to Bobby. “Lightning patterns.” Then he took another set of notebook pages stapled together, handing them to Dean. “Other abnormal weather patterns.”

And then he took out another stack of pages and dropped them in front of himself. “And last but not least, unexplainable events.”

“What kind of events?” Dean asked.

“A whole fishing crew in Alaska went blind, for starters,” Ash said, pulling another set of papers out of the file. “I’ve made notes on patterns of events, possible connections. It seems like demonic activity to me.”

Dean coughed and shifted in his seat. He had been ruminating on how he would break the news to them. Maybe if they were already guessing that something big was brewing, they wouldn’t be so surprised when he dropped the news. He felt he had taken it rather well but he was used to dealing with Sam’s… position, all things considered. 

“What do you guys think this all means?” he asked, testing the waters.

Ash looked Dean in the eyes, pointing roughly to his folder. “A war is coming. Hell is brewing something, and it ain’t no Miller Lite.”

Dean could feel Bobby’s heavy gaze on him, not so gently prompting him to go on and spill the news. 

He spoke hesitantly. “Look, I may-- I may know what’s going on.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Jo’s tone was harsh, and she stared hard at Dean, her jaw pulled tight.

Dean’s phone rang before he could answer. He looked at the caller ID and stood. “Sorry, give me a second.” He answered the phone as he walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Cas, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” the angel asked brusquely.

“I’m at Bobby’s, why?”

Castiel sighed. “Ok. I’ll see you in a second.”

“What--” Dean said, but the angel had already hung up. No sooner had he put his phone back in his pocket, a knock came from the front door.

Bobby, Ash, and Jo all stood, ready to draw their weapons. 

Dean emerged from the kitchen with his hands up, signaling to them to relax. “I think it’s Cas.”

Dean walked through the house to the front door, peeping through the window. When he saw his trench-coat wearing friend, he opened the door.

“Hey what’s going--”

Castiel walked straight through the door, almost running into Dean as he did so. He pulled a jar of blood out from under his coat and unscrewed the lid. He dipped three fingers in and began drawing a sigil by the door.

“You mind telling me why you’re redecorating my house?” Bobby asked, suddenly in the foyer.

“Warding,” Castiel stated, and that was the only response they got. 

They stood around watching and waiting for a good ten or fifteen minutes, Castiel continuing his tasks until he had at least one sigil by each potential entry point on the first floor.

When he had finished, he came into the sitting room with the rest of them and handed the jar to Bobby. “Touch them up every few days.”

Bobby set the jar down on a table. “You mind telling us what’s going on?”

“You mind telling us who you are?” Jo asked, irritated.

“My name is Castiel, I’m an angel of the Lord, and I need to speak to Dean about an important, urgent matter,” Castiel stated plainly.

“Sweet fancy Moses,” Ash exclaimed. “We’re meeting a real live angel?”

“What the hell, Dean?!” Jo exclaimed. “I thought you said they were dangerous!”

Dean now getting exasperated, ran a hand over his face, hoping his nerves weren’t showing. He didn’t want to drop the news now, in the middle of a surprise visit, but by the looks on their faces, they - Jo especially - wouldn’t stay much longer without an explanation. 

“Okay, just, chill, okay? This one is good, I promise. I’ll explain more later, but you’re right. Something big is happening. It’s uh… it’s the apocalypse.”

Jo looked horrified while Ash appeared as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“So it is him?” Jo asked, a new, more hostile anger forming on her face.

“Dean,” Castiel warned. “I don’t have unlimited amounts of time.”

“Ok, ok, just, hang on a second. Bobby, will you explain things to them, just give me a couple of minutes?”

Bobby nodded solemnly, allowing Dean to turn around and face Castiel. Only a few things made the angel this impatient and insensitive, and Dean wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to find out the reason behind his behavior this time.

“Is there a good place to talk?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. “Follow me.”

Ash’s excited questions to Bobby and Jo’s angry remarks faded as Dean led Castiel through the house to the basement door, down the stairs, and into Bobby’s homemade panic room. Dean opened the thick, metal door and stepped aside to let Castiel in.

With the door shut and sealed, Dean looked to his friend. “What the hell, Cas? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I know,” Cas said empathetically before his tone returned to one of business. “So I take it you went to see Sam?”

“Yeah. Wish I would’ve known a little more before going in,” Dean said pointedly.

“What did Sam say about the apocalypse?” Castiel asked.

Dean studied the angel’s curious face, making note of the intensity he had tried to hide in his question - and why was Castiel asking him this question?

“Cas, you know I trust you but-- I don’t trust your family. I need to know what’s going on with you first.”

Castiel seemed to consider Dean’s position for a moment before responding, and decided Dean was right. “I’ve been doing various assignments for heaven, mostly surveillance. But now I have the task of tracking down whoever stole an angel blade that was being kept here on earth. I believe you knew the owner, Bela Talbot.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with recognition. He remembered Bela clearly, and it made sense she’d have such a rare, valuable item in her collection. 

“Yeah, but what’s the big deal about an angel blade stolen off a black market dealer? I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

“It’s more about who stole it and why than what they stole. My higher ups seem to think it's all connected.”

Dean nodded. “And Bela?”

“Missing.”

“Damn.” Dean began shaking his head, pacing a little. He wouldn’t say he had liked the woman, but he had appreciated her unique set of skills even if they had been used against him. And he had been relieved when Sam nullified the contract on her soul, something about reforming rules for minors, or whatever. It would suck for all that to happen just to have her killed a few years later.

“I would like you to help me find her, and possibly find who stole the artifact,” Castiel said, interrupting Dean’s train of thought.

Dean stood in place, thinking of Dallas being alone in Hell, wondering if she could wait a couple more days. She was, of course, a free agent; she could leave without speaking to Dean, and he would not stop her, but it was Sam he was worried about. He needed to know if Sam would keep his word.

“Something is troubling you,” Castiel stated. 

Dean returned to reality. “No, I just have something I need to do. I’ll tell you what-- I’ll go with you today, but I have to talk to Sam again sometime tomorrow.”

Castiel hesitated before answering. “I’ll do my best to return you in time,” he finally said.

Back upstairs, Dean could hear Jo angrily talking with Bobby as he approached the sitting room door. When he entered the room, all talking stopped as they each looked at him, expecting answers.

“Something just came up. I have to leave to help Cas. It should only take a couple of days.”

“You’re leaving without explaining yourself?” Jo asked angrily.

“Apocalypse business. Sorry. I’ll catch up to you later this week and explain, I promise,” Dean said. “I’ll come to the roadhouse.

“You better,” she said. “Your chances of getting help are slim anyay.” She walked past Dean, moving her shoulder just in time to avoid hitting him, and walked out the door. 

Ash gave Dean and Bobby an apologetic look. “Guess we’re not hanging around, sorry Bobby.”

The old man shrugged. “I expected worse.”

Ash chuckled. “Anything else you want me to look at, Dean?”

“Yeah, do me a favor and keep an eye on those events, eye witness accounts would be great if we can get them.”

Ash nodded. “Will do. We hear lots of stories at the Roadhouse, shouldn’t be too hard. Oh and Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Jo. You know how she is.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. I think I’m more worried about her mother.”

Ash just laughed and patted Dean on the shoulder as he walked out. 

Dallas sat cross legged on the four-poster bed, spinning a fire stoker that she grabbed off the fireplace at the other end of the room. She had been waiting for a stray demon to break into her room but sadly, none had been so brave. She stopped spinning the stoker, sighing before looking over the expanse of the bed. It was bigger than any bed she had slept on before; the whole room was luxurious, opulent even, compared to her usual accommodations. Curious about the size of the bed, she reached over to her right to set the stoker on the bedside table. She then scooted a little towards the foot of the bed, laid down, and stretched her arms and legs out like star. She couldn’t reach the edges.

She heard knocking at the door and startled back up into a sitting position. She grabbed the stoker, hopped off the bed, and stood, ready to fight as she called out, “Who is it?”

She was surprised to see Sam Winchester as the door opened. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

A list of painful, terrifying things that Sam could be planning ran through her mind quickly before she focused back on the present. “This is your… castle, or whatever.”

Sam now stood just a few feet from her. “It’s more of a kingdom really, and you’re a guest, so I’ll knock before entering.”

Dallas squinted at Sam, confused, gripping the stoker tighter.

Noticing the weapon in her hand, he took a step back and put up his hands. “I came to talk. I don’t have anything on me.” He slowly turned in a circle, showing her empty hiding places for weapons. 

“Something tells me you don’t need them,” Dallas said. 

“Well, yes, there’s that. You don’t happen to have psychic abilities do you?”

Dallas made a humorous scoffing sound. “Full, red-blooded human here.”

Sam nodded, noticing the veiled insult. “Well, I came here to tell you not to go wandering around. For your own safety,” he said.

“My safety?” Dallas repeated, contempt floating under her words.

“Speaking hunter to hunter--” 

Dallas made another scoffing sound which Sam chose to ignore before continuing.

“You know demons don’t like hunters. And you know demons can be… impulsive. So, I think it’s best for you to only go out when escorted by myself or Ruby.”

Dallas looked him up and down, sat the stoker onto the table, then crossed her arms. “Your demons don’t know I’m here, do they? And I bet they didn’t know Dean was here, either. Because the only other option I’m hearing is that your demons don’t listen to your orders.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth turned up again. “I can tell you’ve got good instincts.”

“I don’t need compliments from you.”

Sam tilted his chin and grit his teeth, his jaw flexing as he tried to keep his annoyance in check. “Right. Well, that’s all I wanted to say. Do you need anything?”

“No,” Dallas said quickly, but her stomach betrayed her, the growl echoing against the stone walls. 

“I’ll have Ruby bring you dinner. Anything else?” Sam asked. 

“I--” Dallas had thought to ask the whereabouts of her bag but stopped herself. “No, I don’t think so.”

Dallas didn’t like the way Sam waited, watching her with a look in his eyes as if he knew she had meant to say something else, as if he were reading her mind. She thought of what food she wanted instead. 

“Well, if you do think of anything, let Ruby know,” Sam said before turning away and leaving. 

This time, the door shut with force, and Dallas smiled at the small victory of annoying the King of Hell. She was beginning to see the cracks in Sam’s façade already. 

But as much as dinner sounded tempting, she wasn’t about to wait around to be checked on again - Sam left the door to her suite unlocked, and Dallas wanted to take a look around Hell.

She opened her door into a dimly lit hall that extended out into darkness on either side. She took a left, figuring that direction was as good as any. As she passed lit torches perched along stone walls, Dallas wondered why Hell hadn’t invested in better lighting. It was near impossible to see far enough in front of herself to know if anyone were coming. 

Dallas slowed her walk, opting to use her sense of hearing over her sight, but the halls of hell were eerily quiet. She expected distant echoes of tortured screams, chains rattling against stone, and cracks of whips, maybe the rush of fire as well. But she only heard the scuffing of her own boots against rock flooring. She didn’t smell anything, either. Now that was the biggest surprise. She did smell smoke as she passed more torches on the walls, taking a right down another passage, but she didn’t smell burning, rotting flesh. Honestly, Hell was underwhelming.

She came across an interesting door, stopping in front of it with a satisfied smile on her face. It was a bit taller and wider than the one to her room, and the whole thing was metal instead of wood. She noticed an unusual symbol on the large doorknob and she reached her hand out to pull open the door but was yanked backwards by someone grabbing her shirt from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going!?” Ruby growled, stepping in front of her and slamming her against a wall. 

Dallas kept her head from smacking against the stone, and when she had gathered her bearings, she blew some of her hair out of face. “Ah, just the demon I wanted to see,” she said, smirking. 

Ruby grabbed Dallas’ arm tightly, dragging her down the hall. 

“I’ll go willingly,” Dallas said, but Ruby didn’t lighten her grip.

“I can take it from here.” 

It was Sam’s voice coming from close behind, and Ruby ground to a halt, seemingly genuinely surprised as his form left the shadows and came into the light. 

“I caught her wandering around,” Ruby spat, shoving Dallas forward.

“I know. She hasn’t been seen by anyone but me,” Sam stated. 

Dallas squinted, immediately suspicious of Sam. Had he been following her?

“Maybe we should keep a lock on the door,” Ruby said.

“That won’t be necessary. But since we’re all here, Dallas, you might as well tell Ruby what you want to eat.”

Dallas had expected Sam to read her mind earlier, so she was oddly disappointed that she had to say what she wanted. She thought for a second, then said, “I’d like some tacos.”

She waited for a reaction in Sam, one that revealed he had expected her order, but if he knew, he made no indication of it. 

He looked at Ruby. “Go. I’ll take her back to her room.”

Ruby stayed silent this time but made sure to show Sam how much she hated being an errand girl by the glare on her face before leaving. Dallas was already sick of Ruby’s attitude; she wondered how Sam didn’t snap at her every time they spoke.

“Follow me, and stay close,” Sam said.

You wish, Dallas thought to herself as she followed Sam back out into the halls. It didn’t take long to reach her room. Dallas kept track of the turns Sam took, making note of every unique crack in a wall or a stone with out of place that could act as landmarks. When they stopped in front of her door again, Dallas was sure she could find her way back to her room by herself if... when… she went exploring again. 

Sam came inside with her after he’d gestured for her to enter first. She could sense his annoyance. She stood, watching as he closed the door, waiting for the lecture. 

“Why would you go wandering around?” Sam said.

Ah, there’s the impatience, Dallas thought to herself. She stood smug as she watched Sam become increasingly exasperated. 

“Well?” he added.

“Why do you think I owe you an answer?” Dallas finally said.

“I guess you don’t,” Sam calmly stated. “But it’s your life on the line.”

“Why do you even want me here if your demons will kill me on sight?”

Sam studied her a moment before answering. “Well I guess now is as good a time as any to ask you my questions, I had hoped for a less hostile setting, but I’m sure you have things to get back to.”

“Wait, you actually want to sit and chat?”

“Well… yes. That’s what I said before.”

Dallas almost couldn't believe her luck - this could be the first step in reaching her goal. But maybe keeping him off-balance was the better play. "I think you're right. This isn't a good time."

“No?”

“No. I’m hungry. And Ruby will be coming back soon. And there is actually something else I need.”

“Ok. What is it?”

“I had a bag with me when Ruby kidnapped me. I would like it back, then I’ll sit down and talk with you.”

“I should be able to have her pick it up while she’s out now. I’m sure she knows where it is,” Sam said.

“Perfect.” Dallas smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Sam stood silent; he appeared as if he didn’t know what else to say but didn’t want to leave the room quite yet. Dallas drummed her fingers on her crossed arms, watching him say and do nothing. 

“Well,” he finally said, “I guess I’ll leave you alone for the evening. Goodnight.”

Dallas raised her eyebrows in response, and Sam took the cue to leave. 

Readers list:

Everything: @lostnliterature @french-the-llama @shamelesslydean @akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @angelus320 @atc74 @authoressskr @bambi95-blog @because-imma-lady-assface @blanketmadeofstarss-blog-blog @brewsthespirit-blog @britney8793 @calaofnoldor @cutedictionary @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @feelmyroarrrr @frenchybell @growningupgeek @gryffindorable713 @hanginwithmanerds @holyfuckloueh @impala-dreamer @its-not-candy @jayankles @jesspfly @luciisthebest @megansescape @mereka18 @mjdoc90 @mogaruke @moonlitskinwalker @mrswhozeewhatsis @pizza-boy-cas @sadist-fangirl23 @sea040561 @seenashwrite @serienjunkiegirl  @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @super-not-naturall @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @there-must-be-a-lock @un-autor-anonim @wingedcatninja @wordstothewisereaders @just-another-busyfangirl @ericaprice2008 @immafangirlmess

The Boyking: @wildfirewinchester @babypieandwhiskey @butiaintgonnaloveem @just-a-normal-eccentric @justballoonfishthings @purplecatterpiller @seljepw @oneshoeshort @wendibird

[rival-ado]

owo I'm curious. But like could order like all the pmd and why you like/dislike each one?

AHHHHHH !!!!! okay hope ur ready for a lot of rambling this might be one of my favorite asks ever fjlsjfJTKFJ

1.) pmd2 !! this is my favorite by far and my first pmd game , specifically explorers of sky !!!!

the story is SO good , the characters are really good and interesting and memorable , theres a lot to do main game AND post game , not to mention special episodes [ theyre ALL so good but i give my life to special episode 5 . ive replayed it so many times ] !!! i could go on forever ahfjsjkfkg . the only negative things i can rlly think about rn are fixed in the later games [ moving in dungeons can be slow and depending on ur type a lot of dungeons can be hell + teammates can be a nuisance rather than helpful ] but !! a rlly big plus is you can make your own missions thru a generator online and get literally any item you want , its super helpful [ reviver seeds are super important to have ] !! i havent replayed it in a while so i might have more to say later but i really could write papers about this game i love it so much alfjskfk

2.) psmd !! the most recent pmd game , and my second favorite !!!

this game has every pokemon gen 1-7 and every single one has a different mission AND theyre all connected to each other . you can get missions from characters from previous games [ grovyle + celebi mission ; __ ; ] . i recommend playing this game last tho if you plan on playing them all !! the story is pretty good and has some rlly good twists , theres post game but not a ton [ unless u want to do every mission ] , you can befriend and play as any pkmn you want which is rlly cool !!! also theres a pushing mechanic which is not only super helpful but rlly funny to me [ shoves an entire line of teammates out of harms way ] . for the negatives ... the characters are interesting but i dont remember them as well , i wish there was more character development . i dont hate the final boss but ... its kinda a reused concept from pmd3 which i wasnt fully a fan of in the first place [ spoilers ? the final boss isnt a pkmn , its just negativity ] . they bring back apples which isnt rlly bad but i sure didnt miss them . leveling up is HELL . i rlly dislike the fact that you have to buy saves for dungeons though , no quicksaves if you have to do something all of a sudden , no saves at rest stops mid dungeon . you gotta buy em and bring em along , im pretty sure its only this game that does it but i hope they dont keep it . nevertheless its a solid pmd game !!!

3.) pmd3 !! gates to infinity !!! i gotta be honest im barely putting this above red/blue rescue team but i WILL bc despite its very big flaws it also has a lot of ups !!

okay this game along with everything gen 5 gets a lot of hate and i can sure see why with this one but i still think its rlly good !!! im actually gonna start with the negatives on this one to get em out of the way but . paradise building does not interest me . no stacking missions [ you cant do more than one at a time ] , the rewards are just supplies that go towards building paradise , the final boss doesnt rlly interest me [ again spoilers same as psmd: its not a pkmn ] , and it just has so many differences from the usual pmd formula and i cant promise that theyre all ..... positive . plus the VERY limited choices for hero and partner [ i wont complain much bc i wouldve chosen the given pkmn over other starters anyways but . no quiz , only 5 pkmn compared to other games 15+ ? oof ] A..... ANYWAYS now that thats over . POSITIVES ..... i rlly like the characters ! the main ones and even the villains have a little development !! [ dunsparse emolga hydreigon ILY ] the story itself is good ; im not a fan of concepts that appear for one game and are never even mentioned later but the entercards [ ? ] are interesting and the frozen chasm recorder thing may have made me want to cry . i dont want to specifically spoil anything but this game can be a little brutal at times too ? leaving friends behind , being chased down by the villains , being split up from your friends , not gonna say the exact scenes bc of spoils but when things get rlly bad and how desperate the hero and partner can get when theyre trying to protect each other ..... [ cries ] . while some mechanics of the game arent my favorite , the story is good and can make u damn emotional .......

4.) pmd !! red/blue rescue team !!! i cant even call this my least favorite bc i have no real least favorites when it comes to this series but i just like the others a little better ahkfjsjfkc

im a little more biased bc this is the last game of the series i played even tho its the original . BUT i still have so many good things to say about it and i would probably recommend this first ? i dont remember there being a lot of characters compared to the other games but they sure leave an impression on you . i also like how the partner is kinda sassy and like , they just met you but would literally do anything for you and believe in you even when you dont believe in yourself . every pmd game has good twists but i RLLY like the one they pulled here . also you spend a good amount of the game being on the run from people you trusted literally trying to kill you which is fucked up but i really like how they played the story . i didnt even play it that long ago but writing this makes me want to play it again smfjkskfj ... the main negatives i can think about are all stuff fixed in future games again [ and you can also do the same make your own mission generator and get items to make the game easier ] . a lot of the bosses are the same type / resistant to the same type so depending on your hero / partner it could go rlly smoothly or rlly badly [ to anyone choosing grass type pkmn . godspeed ] . i think this might be the shortest pmd game and it might be hard bc its the first , but if youre looking to rlly get into the series id go with this one first . if you just want to test the waters id go with pmd2 !!

T.... TYSM FOR THE ASK and these are all opinions of course and its just my thoughts but if you got all the way down here . ily

[commenter2]

Changes for Pokémon franchise: 2020 edition (part 1)

After my thank you Pokémon post, it got me thinking about the things from my 2016 list that still haven’t happened in the Pokémon franchise, so I thought Id make another updated list of things I hope to see happen later on in generation 8 or later on in the franchise.

Like last time I’m gonna start with ideas for the games and then make a second post about ideas for the Pokémon anime show.

Make it possible to obtain every specific region Pokémon in the games- I mentioned this in my last list but I’ve altered it a bit to just include every Pokémon from a specific region. Over the years the number of catchable Pokémon in the games have gone up however there has never been a game where it was possible to catch every Pokémon from a specific region without the aid of trading.

Though I understand why the game creators do this, you have to admit it would be interesting if they did make a game or two where it was possible to collect every regional Pokémon in a game, whether in new games or remakes, without the aid of trading. I mean imagine a remake of Diamond/Pearl giving you the chance to have both a Honchkrow and a Bastodan on your team without having to trade.

Maybe as a tradeoff for this, some Pokémon can only be obtained by doing specific objectives like you can get one of the other starter Pokémon by defeating 50 Pokémon in battle using your own starter. They have done things like this before like collecting coins to buy Pokémon, being able to catch Pokémon on certain days of the week and the QR scanner in Sun and Moon so why not do it again but bigger ? There is also the idea of expansions packs, which have been introduced in Sword and Shield, maybe it can allow you to capture the Pokémon purposely left out of the game.

Having an team of 8 Pokémon- Since Gen 3 the game developers have been adding new battle mechanics in each game to make Pokémon battles more interesting from double battles to the new Dynamax feature but it makes me wonder how long they can keep this up before there are too many. Maybe instead of adding more mechanics, the developers should try experimenting with changes to some of their older, simple mechanics like having more Pokémon on a team.

A team of 6 Pokémon has been a thing since the first games so imagine being able to carry more Pokémon, like 8 ! Not only would this make the games more interesting by making fights more intense and unpredictable but it would also make the anime interesting as the characters can catch more Pokémon to interact with as the series progresses and like I said previously, give us more epic battles and even less filler episodes.

Bigger Pokémon move limit- Pokémon being able to use more then 4 moves at a time could be another positive small change as it could make for better gameplay since you can think of more strategies and lead to surprising twist in gaming like fighting a character with a Pokémon that knows several moves that differ from its type. Z Moves touched on this a bit so why not do it for a game ? If the game developers did do this, you think a limit of 6 moves would be a fair number ?

A 9th gym leader- Another idea I mentioned in my previous list and there are other people out there who agree with me on this idea. A 9th gym leader could make the games more interesting as this could break the status quo of gym leaders having only 8 gyms in a region. Also maybe unlike the other 8 gyms, this gym leader could have multiple different types of Pokémon on there team, testing the player on type advantages/disadvantages.

Heck if the 8 Pokémon team idea I mentioned earlier comes into effect, the leader could have one of each type of Pokémon the previous gym leaders specialized in, that would be fun. What do you think ?

More evolutions for existing Pokémon- Like many people, I think the creators are struggling a bit with coming up with dozens of new Pokémon every generation, don’t get me wrong there has been a lot of amazing new Pokémon over the years but still. So maybe to make things easier, the game creators should focus on giving existing Pokémon out there more evolutions. They have done this many times before, but not in awhile if you don’t count regional forms evolutions, so why don’t they at least try adding more evolutions for general Pokémon out there that could or need one like Dunsparce, Carnivine, or maybe Shuckle (points to whoever gets that reference).

Getting rid of trade evolutions- Like I said earlier, and in my first like, I’m not a fan of trading but my biggest problem with it is how its required to make some Pokémon evolve, even after over 20 years of games its still hard to get some Pokémon from the first generation because of it.

Though I know there are easy ways now to solve this problem, I still think it would be nice to play at least one game where you can get Pokémon that are usually acquired via trading through some other method like having them learn a specific move, leveling up at a certain place or a combination of several methods, anything to get Pokémon like an Alakazam or Rhyperior. They have made changes for evolutions before, like getting Glaceon through an ice stone, so why don’t the game developers give it a try.

Starter Pokémon with different types- Another idea a lot of the Pokémon fandom likes. They experimented with this in several of their games by giving starters dual types so maybe Gen 9 is when they finally do this.

Continue use of Mega Evolutions/ Z rings in later games- These two features have made the battles in the games more interesting, especially Z rings and Z crystals. I hope the game creators will continue to include theses features into their games somehow. Plus it would be interesting to keep seeing new Mega Evolutions and Z crystals for other Pokémon whether popular or those used by the characters in the anime, like maybe a Z crystal for Mareanie for example.

Different kinds of Z moves/crystals- While on the topic of Z moves if they do return what would you say to the idea of the creators trying to implement different kinds of Z moves for the Pokémon types, ones that aren’t just physical. I have this idea of a series of z crystals that can cause an effect on the battlefield depending on the type, like a psychic z crystal that can randomly confuse either your enemies Pokémon or your own or a Grass z move where the health of your enemies Pokémon can be absorbed into your Grass Pokémon, but only your Grass Pokémon.

Would you like any of theses ideas to happen in the future ? What other changes or additions would you like to see happen in later Pokémon games ?

[boymeetsweevil]

For Science 2/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: ~8.6k lmao where is this going idek

Warnings/Themes: not much honestly just some good old fashioned heavy petting and dry humping :) because why not?

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

The next time you see Jungkook is a few days later when classes have started back up for the week. You spent a good 20 minutes that morning staring up at your ceiling wondering if today would be the day that the consequences of your drunken voyeurism party would come back to haunt you. Jungkook isn’t necessarily someone that can’t keep secrets, but given that he’s a bit of a novice when it comes to sex, you’re not sure whether he’ll keep his mouth shut. And as appealing as cutting class would have been, you can’t risk your grades in your junior year and with applications for jobs looming over your head with one year left.

When you emerge from the food court holding your lunch tray, you head to the patch of grass on the quad that you and the guys like to frequent. From the short distance away, you can see that Tae has just sat down to join Hoseok. Jungkook is nowhere to be found and you’re secretly glad you don’t have to deal with him watching you walk over. You give them a nod as you sit down, careful not to spill your food or the precious brownie wrapped up in the corner well of the tray.

“How was Friday night,” Tae asks over a mouthful of tuna sandwich.

“It was fine, why do you ask.” Your voice remains level as you unwrap your sandwich, but you don’t make eye contact.

“What do you mean ‘why’? Jungkook can’t handle his liquor and always throws up if he has more than one beer. Did he even make it to your apartment? No one heard anything from either of you for the whole weekend.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that after the uber left,” Hoseok nods sympathetically.

“Shut up,” you laugh, throwing a crumpled wad of plastic wrap at him. “You weren’t thinking about anything. You were knocked out like your BAC was .9.”

“At least I wasn’t…”

“At least you weren’t what? Because whatever you’re going to critique me for, I didn’t do.”

“Didn’t do what,” Jungkook asks as he approaches the area where you’re all seated on the grass.

“Didn’t do you,” Hoseok snorts.

Jungkook pauses with his chicken nugget in midair. “What exactly are we talking about?”

“You don’t remember asking her to deflower you so you’d be a better lay for Yoori? Man, you really are a lightweight. I don’t get it. You’re tall and muscly, it makes no sense.”

“You really don’t remember?” Tae leans over to look at Jungkook with concern.

“I remember what I remember,” is all he says before digging into his lunch without another word. Your relief is short lived because the topic switches only slightly when Taehyung asks about Yoori.

“When did you say she was coming back, again?”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle with subdued excitement. “She said she was coming back in a month.”

“Well, you’d better start working on that v-card issue then.”

“I’m sure that I’ll come up with some sort of solution,” he shrugs and pushes up his glasses with his middle finger. “Can you go back in line and get me more chicken nuggets, Hoseok?”

“Why me?”

“You’re the only one who’s done eating.” When Hoseok refuses to budge, Jungkook brandishes his ID card like it’s a thick wad of cash. “You can buy whatever you want while you’re up there. On me.”

“Deal,” he snatches the card away before turning to Tae. “Come stand in line with me.”

You turn to watch the two of them go, snorting at how much they resemble tweedle dee and tweedle dum.

“You couldn’t stand in line yourself, hotshot?”

“I just wanted to talk with you privately,” he mumbles while playing with the grass.

“Oh. Is it about this weekend?”

“Yeah. I’ve been giving it some thought and honestly...”

Here comes the rejection, you think. But technically you weren’t even dating, much less together, so how could you be getting rejected? And it was his idea in the first place, so he definitely can’t reject you. The thoughts come at you all at once, inundating you until you’re staring above his head at nothing, trying not to shriek in frustration.

“Hello? Where are you right now, Mars?” Jungkook lays a hand on your shoulder, breaking your reverie.

“What?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Uh. No, sorry. What did you say?” You raise your shoulder so his hand slides off on its own, bracing yourself for his next words.

“I said I think we should make it a weekend thing instead of just one day a week.”

“Really? Why?”

“Think about the math for starters. We’d meet maybe four more times if Yoori’s actually coming back in a month. But that’s not nearly enough time to test for variables or come up with a formula. Much less master technique. And think of all the instruments I still don’t have a good familiarity with.”

“Jungkook--”

“I figure with weekends, we could triple the amount of raw time we have. And if we’re really being sticklers for detail, we could more than triple the amount of practice situations if we operate under the assumption that it will be mainly just you acting as the test subject.” His hands flutter as he talks until they land like birds in his hair and turn it into a deranged looking nest.

“Jungkook.”

“I read on Sunday that vaginal orgasms can occur in series and since most of the sessions will be focused on you, we don’t have to factor in the more singular penile orgasms or refractory periods and--”

“Are you really talking about your dick like it’s a limiting reagent right now?”

“Yes,” he stops his rambling to look at you through his lenses, the glass making his eyes appear even rounder and shinier. “Should I not do that?”

“You know what? It’s fine. Weekends are fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Your voice is starting to sound a little...hysterical.”

“No, it’s really fine. I’ll just stay over at your place this week after Fortnite.”

“Crap, I forgot about Fortnite. We were so close to being able to compete in the town tournament.”

“It’s fine, just move it to another day of the week.”

“But how will I explain that to Tae and Hoseok without raising suspicion?”

You gnaw on the corner of your lip until an idea comes to you. “Just tell them that my test scores went down a lot and you have to tutor me. Happens to Hoseok all the time.”

“But there’s no way your results would go down enough for you to need tutoring all weekend long for a month’s worth of weekends. You’re way too smart for that.”

“Y-you think so?” His words make your cheeks warm up and you smile up at him shyly.

His brow furrows. “Of course you’re smart. You know that.”

“Obviously I know, but I…didn’t know you thought that way too.”

“I’d be crazy not to,” he smiles softly at you.

“Here are your damn nuggets, you lazy baby.”

A tray piled high with nuggets and baked goods comes crashing down from Hoseok’s hands with a scary accuracy into Jungkook’s lap. Hoseok never ceases to amaze you with the speed at which he can ruin a nice mood. There’s no sense in mourning a one-sided moment, though, so you just scoop up a stray nugget and nibble. Hoseok sits down roughly onto the green with chocolate stains around his mouth, the cherry tart in his hand seems to be his next victim. Jungkook chokes on a lettuce leaf.

“Just how much did you troglodytes buy!?”

“Not that much,” Tae looks guilty as he peels the wrapper off a drumstick ice cream cone.

“Don’t act like you can’t just reload the missing funds,” Hoseok points a syrupy finger in Jungkook’s direction, “You have that programming money, asshole.”

You shake your head and gesture for Tae to grab what he can and leave them to it.

The most daunting thing about the whole arrangement is that during the rest of the week Jungkook manages to act like he’s hasn’t come over to your apartment to watch and help you get off for the sake of being better lover to Yoori. He’s completely nonchalant in the way that he sits next to you when you all get together to strategize for robotics competitions, his elbow brushing yours the entire time. When Hoseok uses Jungkook’s newfound virginity again to knock him down a peg during a study session where he keeps mock-grading Hoseok’s answers down, he doesn’t bat an eyelash. It’s not like Jungkook has suddenly become cool, though. He still eats like a 5-year-old weight lifter. And he still falls asleep on the floor of Tae’s room only to wake up with the shape of his glasses imprinted onto his face. He still looks across the room with lightning speed and holds out his hand like he did when you were kids because he wants you on his team when you guys stumble upon a spontaneous Super Smash Bros being hosted in Tae’s dorm lobby. Jungkook is still just as much himself as he was before you spread your legs for him and you can’t tell if that makes you happy or sad.

Friday rolls around and you spend 2 hours more than usual getting ready for Fortnite at Jungkook’s. The funny part is that you never ‘got ready’ before. But now you’re taking a 40 minute shower to shave basically every hair that grows below your eyelashes and using the previously unopened lotion your mother bought you from the Clinique store a birthday ago. You even put on a mud mask you bought on a whim once and sing a little song called ‘this isn’t a date’ the whole time it dries on your face. By the time you leave your apartment to head over, your whole body is moisturized, glowing, hairless, and fragrant. You empty out your backpack and fill it with the things you’ll need for the weekend so as not to raise suspicion with an overnight bag. Though it’s significantly lighter because its not filled with textbooks and toolkits, you still feel like you’re carrying a huge weight on your shoulders as you knock on Jungkook’s door.

Taehyung is the first to greet you because he’s the one who gets sent to open the door.

“Weird,” he blurts out. He quickly regrets saying anything when your mouth drops open.

“I look weird?”

“I don’t know,” he studies you as you both make your way to small set up of consoles in the middle of the dorm’s living area. “Guys, doesn’t she look weird?”

“Excuse me. I don’t want to do this right now. Nothing’s weird.”

“You do look weird,” Hoseok chimes in and puts down his controller to stalk forward. “But your hair is doing that same…shape it always does. And you’re not, like, wearing something nice for a change.”

All you can do is gape at their rude comments as they circle around you.

“Kook, come check this out. She look different to you?”

Jungkook approaches slowly and looks you over with the rest of them. When it was just Taehyung and Hoseok, you could at least make angry eye contact and flick them in the forehead when they got too close. But with Jungkook also looking at you, it feels like you’re glued by your feet to the floor, unable to move.

“You don’t really look all that different. You smell a little different, though.”

The other two sniff the air before letting out matching yells of agreement and crowding you further to guess the smell. You have to give Hoseok a purple nurple when his nose starts to tickle your neck but you’re too exhausted to shake Taehyung off and endure him linking arms with you as you walk to your seats to continue sniffing your hairline.

“What’d you do? Run out of that dollar store lotion you use,” Hoseok jokes as he tosses you a controller.

“Yes,” you deadpan just to get him off your back. Jungkook scoots his chair next to yours, getting into the normal team pairings. When he gets close enough, you lean over, sheepish, and ask, “Do I smell weird? Be honest.”

“No,” he pats your thigh reassuringly before redirecting his gaze at the TV. “You smell good.”

Although you’re relieved that no one really questioned your slight change in presentation, you can’t settle fully into the game night because you’re practically vibrating with excited nerves. You’ve stayed the night with hookups in the sense that you were too tired to leave directly after a one night stand so you crashed with them in their beds and snuck out at dawn. But this would be different. While it wasn’t a full-on sleepover with a main squeeze, it was still better than doing the walk of shame from a stranger’s apartment at 6 am. And it would be a weekend with Jungkook. After a few hours of trying to hide the childlike smile on your face and having your character nearly die every round, the gang calls it quits.

“Hey, what’s up with you,” Hoseok calls from across the room. “Why do you suck at playing tonight?”

“Just thought it might be interesting to play like you do for a change,” you snark. Taehyung and Jungkook both grimace for Hoseok, who opts for flipping you the bird instead.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is just misplaced passion between us.”

“Good thing you know better.”

Thinking of Hoseok as anything other than an annoying friend has your skin crawling, but you do give him a pat on the back as a silent ‘good game’.

“Should we go out for ice cream? The night is still young. And you’re out of ice cream,” Taehyung calls from where is head is practically buried inside the freezer.

“Sorry, guys. I’m video calling with RealiCorp tomorrow at 8am about some software updates and I have to get to bed so I can be sharp.”

“You don’t have to come. We can get ice cream just the three of us,” Taehyung says as he slips on his shoes.

“I think I’m gonna have to take a rain check as well,” you perch yourself on the armrest of the couch facing the consoles. “I’m on a diet, so I think I’ll just go home.”

“And the reason you’re not getting up go now is?” Hoseok eyes how comfortable you look in your spot and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s dark outside and it’s not safe for me to walk back. I’m calling an uber.”

“Lame, but safety first, I guess.” He wraps an arm around Taehyung and pulls the door open. “You gonna treat your senior to a snow cone?”

You wait for their figures to disappear down the road before turning to look at Jungkook.

“You don’t really have a RealiCorp meeting.”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

“Easy. RealiCorp offices are in New York and 7pm their time is way too late for a minor business call.”

“You caught me. Are you really on a diet?”

“What do you think?” He snorts and raises his palms in surrender.

“I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll see you in a bit.”

You watch him retreat to the bathroom and suddenly you’re glad he’s gone because there is very little time before he watches you get off again.

Quickly you bring your bag to his bedroom and settle on his mattress and wait. To kill time, you look around the room. The superhero movie posters that cover a generous amount of the wall space and the wall length bookshelf that is covered with stacks of comic books depicting the same stories the movies do all scream ‘nerd’. So does the giant monitor with a large terminal blinking on it and pair of laptops on his desk. The laundry basket has three different shirts with Big Bang Theory quotes on them. You shake your head and recall the day you’d bought them for him off Etsy. You weren’t a fan of the show yourself but he loved to watch it for the jokes and to poke holes in the scientific jargon the characters would spew.

“You notice anything new,” he asks as he walks in, shutting the door behind him while he scrubs at his wet hair with a towel.

“No. Did you add something?”

“Yeah,” he says, pointing to the wall that holds the room’s sole window. There’s a large felt flag with the RealiCorp logo embroidered onto it.

“Oh. Nice flag.”

“Not that, that’s old.” He walks over and gestures a hand underneath the flag. Beneath the flag are a handful of photos off you, Taehyung, and Hoseok from over the years. You remember each of the specific moments in which they were taken.

“You’re not in any of them,” you murmur.

“I know. But I don’t need a picture of myself. I know what I looked like and what I was feeling. Having a photo of you guys is the main thing.”

The softness of his tone makes your heart ache. Jungkook is a sentimental genius, a rare breed. With every fiber of your being you wish that he could be yours. You’ve spent around a decade of your life loving him from afar despite the fact that you’re best friends. But you’re prepared to spend another decade doing it if that’s the way you can stay in each other’s lives. The sooner you commit to that fate, the less cloudy this weird thing you have going on will make your brain and the less it will hurt when it’s over and you watch Yoori get to have him.

“Oh, I have something for you.”

He retrieves a brown paper bag from under his desk and dumps the contents on the bed while you strip off your loose joggers. From the bag fall a giant tube of lubricant and a few sex toys. Your peer down at the trinkets with an amused expression while he putters around his room. When he sits down again, you finally take note of his outfit.

Junkgkook is in his mottled and self-distressed hoodie and threadbare sweats that his dad bought him from the school co-op when he got his acceptance letter 4 years ago. It’s an outfit you’re very familiar with because he often wears it whenever you all are dealing with messy things. Like oil changes, painting the exterior of fighter bots, or baking with Hoseok. Now that his hair isn’t soaking wet, he has his bangs pushed away from his face with a thin headband and sleek goggles replace his chunky black frames. You weren’t going to say anything but then you saw the small notebook and pen clutched in his grasp.

“Okay. What the hell is that outfit?”

“You act like you’ve never seen me in my researching clothes before.”

“I have, but you’re not dissecting a drone you found in a dumpster, you’re looking at my vagina.”

“Proper lab attire is an integral part of any successful experiment,” he waves an admonishing finger at you.

“You’re calling sweatpants with cheese stains on them ‘proper lab attire’?”

“This isn’t an efficient use of our time,” he huffs.

“Oh my god, okay fine.” The energy in the room is a little more chaotic than it was before but it provides you with the push needed to get your panties down and trapped around an ankle and you clambering into a half prone position. “Let the experimentation begin.”

Jungkook waits for you to part your knees before shuffling into his spot between your legs. He ducks his head to peer at your exposed folds before scribbling down some notes.

“What are you writing?”

“Nothing much. Just making note of the initial appearance so I can compare towards the end. Can I touch you? My hands are clean, I promise.”

“Uh, yeah, go ahead.”

Clearly he remembered more than he let on from that first night because he goes straight for your clit like you mentioned before. Slowly, he reaches a pointer finger out to poke. The sudden pressure, though light, has you jumping.

“Sorry,” he looks up at you from behind his frames, “I forgot how sensitive it is.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you focus your gaze on the ceiling. You’re trying hard to maintain a semblance of professionalism.

When his finger stops skimming, he’s a little too far south and you tell him so. He adjusts and manages to find it the second time around. He looks at your face carefully to gauge the reaction and is a little disappointed to see that you look bored. He tries circling his fingertip around the little nub, but the pressure is too light and almost ticklish. You snicker quietly and he gives up.

“This isn’t working. You don’t look like you’re having any fun,” he pouts.

“Kook, this isn’t about me. And this is supposed to be educational, not fun.”

“But its only educational for me if you’re having fun. What else can I do?

“What do you mean, you’re doing fine.”

“I did the finger thing and it didn’t do anything. All you did was laugh.”

“No one is laughing at you, though.”

“What about this,” he asks and you have to look back down to see what he’s talking about.

You realize he’s talking about the small bullet vibrator that lay amongst the things he brought in the brown paper bag. He holds it up to your face so you can get a better view of what it is. You look away, already very familiar with it because you have a blue version in the shoebox under your bed.

“Some people do use those to get off, that’s true.”

“Then let’s put this in. It has a USB in it. Will it collect data?”

“Slow your roll. That thing is more for direct clit stimulation than insertion. It’s the same thing I used on myself last time, remember?”

You watch him inspect it. He finds the power button and turns it onto its lowest setting. The low buzz fills the room and reminds you just what type of activities you’re engaging in. Without a warning he lays the vibrating toy where he thinks remembers your clit is. He’s right and the sudden vibrations have one of your legs kicking out involuntarily. You let out a yelp and try to scramble backwards, but the headboard keeps you in your spot.

“Fuck!”

Jungkook throws back his head and laughs. It’s the type of laugh he does where its strong and high and rolling. In most situations its infectious, but here you’re mad that he’s taking advantage of your natural reactions.

“Your leg did that last time too,” he giggles before quickly writing down your reaction. “This is fun.” 

He approaches you with the toy again, this time remembering to circle your clit like you had demonstrated before. You just barely keep a moan from escaping. This time your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling assaulting your clit.

“Wow,” he breathes.

Again, he hurries to jot everything down in quick script with his free hand. In the porn he’d watched, it seemed like all rubbing a woman’s clit would get you was a coy smile and a musical lilting moan. Your reaction was far more visceral than he had expected. The way your back arched upwards looked almost painful, but there was something graceful about the way your body just took over.

“Okay,” you say harshly. You can feel the pricks of sweat creeping along your hairline and spine. Your body thinks its getting sex soon, but its mistaken. “I think that’s enough learning for today.”

“Oh, come on. We only did one round,” he whines.

“Pfft. That wasn’t even one round. I didn’t cum.”

His nose scrunches in confusion as he jots that down. “You didn’t? Then what was all that flailing you did and the stuff with your face.”

“I’m just…responsive. That’s all.”

“Well, you can’t quit. We agreed to do this all weekend, remember?”

“I know,” you sigh, and cover your eyes with your hands, “Let’s…just move on, okay? What do you think the next step is?”

He frowns a little, the corners of his mouth turning down anxiously. He reaches for one of the toys he brought, a slightly larger than average size dildo, and clutches it in two hands before inching it towards your pelvis.

“No,” your hands come out quickly before he impales you. “Jungkook, think. What’s missing from this situation? Why might it be too early for that?”

“Hold on,” he asks picking up his pen and paper and pinning you with a quizzical look. “Say that again?”

“You can’t just jump to inserting foreign objects.”

He furrows his brows. You watch as his thinking face comes out: the cute scrunched nose, cute pursed lips, cute round eyes filled with confusion. After a few beats, he comes up with something, his fingers snapping with the small victory.

“If I were jerking off right now,” you fight to keep the image from surfacing in your head, “I would need to make sure the friction wouldn’t cause lacerations or inflammation. And I bought this.” He hands you the gaudy pink bottle of lube and you frown once you read the label. Upon further inspection, you can see that its actually just hand cream. Cherry scented.

“Partial credit,” you say, handing it back to him.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s not real lube and I don’t want a yeast infection.”

“But this is the only one I got,” he pouts.

His dejected face makes you want to wrap him up in the duvet. There is a solution he’s not thinking of, and you suppose there’s no better time than the present for someone to learn about foreplay. The possible complications that could arise are present in the back of your mind, but you figure since you’re doing this all for Yoori, you should go big or go home.

“Jungkook, are you forgetting the vaginas are self-lubricating? That’s a rookie move, even for you.”

His bright smile returns. “How could I forget. But how do we jumpstart the lubrication process? What’s the catalyst?”

“Well, you have to be,” you search for an elegant word but can’t find one, “You have to be turned on.”

“Well, what do I have to do to turn you on?”

The question is innocent in and of itself. But the way that Jungkook tilts his head like an eager puppy, lip trapped between his even, white teeth, smelling like soap and safety makes your stomach do flip flops. He looks up at you, and ponders what it would take to get your folds to become sticky with arousal like they were last time. His hands fidget with the pen and notebook, clearly at a loss for ideas about what the next step is.

“I-it’s different for every person. But foreplay is generally the best way to work someone up.”

His pen moves at an impressive speed as he writes down your words. “Fourplay? Like the number four?”

“Not really, no. I mean if you adhere to, like, the four bases, then sure.”

“What bases?”

“You know what I mean. The bases. The four F’s.” When he merely blinks up at you, no recognition suddenly lighting up his eyes, you realize he’s way more inexperienced than you thought. “French, feel, finger, fuck? Never heard of them?”

“Nope,” he says.

“Okay. Um, it’s a baseball metaphor for sex. Or, more accurately, the events that can lead up to it and then sex. The first one, French, refers to french kissing.”

“What’s Feel stand for?”

“Feel as in feeling someone up or groping them. Finger is pretty straight forward, it stands for fingering but really could be anything you do with the hands. And I guess oral falls into that category too.”

“Fuck is the whole sex, right?”

“Yes, it’s…the whole sex. But maybe just call it sex from now on?”

“Right,” he says. “Which ones would you need in order to lubricate?”

Your cheeks heat. “They’re all pretty much fine for me. I mean the order is pretty appropriate.”

His expression slowly morphs into one of intense thought before it contorts again into nervousness. “I’ve only ever kissed someone once. In middle school. I don’t remember it, but I don’t think I was very good at it.”

“Well, we don’t have to if you’re—”

“No, no, I wanna do it. It’ll be good if we do this now, so I can spend the rest of the time improving. You can help me. I’m sure Yoori likes to kiss people as well,” he says resolutely.

You shake your head to dislodge the idea of Yoori sitting on a throne and watching the evening’s events play out.

“Okay. Maybe we should just focus on one at a time, then.”

“Yeah.”

He tries to shuffle up next to you with his notebook and pen, but you make him leave them by the foot of the bed, explaining that he likely won’t be able to take notes anyway. Once he’s sitting next to you by the pillows, he awkwardly turns to you, neck craned at an uncomfortable angle. You sigh. He’s really not doing anything to help build an ambiance and you have to do it all yourself. You start by reaching out to take off his lab goggles, trying not to laugh at the pink lines they left on his face.

“I can’t see,” he pipes up as soon as you become a blurry shape in front of him.

“You weren’t wearing your contacts under those?”

“I don’t wear contacts. They’re too much of a hassle. And the goggles have prescription in them. It’s easier that way.”

“It’s fine. Most people close their eyes for this anyway.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s easier than trying to focus on someone’s face an inch in front of you. Plus, it feels nice so you just kind of…close them.”

He merely nods and you turn to face him fully. His eyes are squeezed shut and his shoulders are nearly brushing his ears with how tensely he’s holding them.

“Kook,” you whisper, “Why are you all hunched up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just got scared for a second. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. There’s no need to worry.”

“How do these things normally begin?”

“Honestly? You just feel it coming when the mood is right. For now though, either one of us could just start.”

“Maybe I can start,” you’re surprised to hear him volunteering, “And you can take over if I get stuck.”

“Okay,” you whisper as he inches towards you.

You relax your jaw and let your eyes fall closed. Clearly he’s close or else you wouldn’t be able to smell his clean shower gel scent, but a few moments pass and he hasn’t done anything. You’re about to open your mouth to ask him if he’s alright when he finally swoops in and plants a swift peck on your lips before backing away. It was too fast to really be anything close to a kiss. More just a dry bump of lips. You open your eyes again to find him peering at your nervously.

“I got stuck,” he mumbles. Even though he’s a few months older than you, the small way he sits after having had his second kiss makes you feel powerful. Not superior, just capable of taking care of him and showing him ‘the ropes’, whatever they may be.

“That’s okay.” You reach a hand out to glide across his cheek and settle in the hair at the nape of his neck and guide him forward. “You’ll get the flow in no time.”

The kiss starts out dry once again, Jungkooks lips are still closed a bit tightly due to his clenched jaw. But some gentle strokes of the shell of his ear with your thumb help coax him into following the way your lips caress his as best he can. It is, admittedly, a bit awkward at first because his rhythm is off, and you can tell he’s frustrated when you open an eye to peek at him and spy his hands scraping at his knees. He tilts his head, nose brushing yours softly, and then suddenly things slot into place. He manages to sync up with you when he pivots a bit and traps your bottom lip. A little surprised breath leaves you as the kiss stops feeling so one-sided and he pushes forward, emboldened by your response. You let the kiss carry on for a while now that the locomotion seems stable enough to be self-sustained. It’s not until his hands bump against your knee for the third time that you pull back minutely.

“You know, in a situation like this,” you bring one of his hands to rest at the curve of your neck, “It’s okay to consider touching her too.”

He can only nod at you, eyes hooded and a little cross eyed as he tries to focus on your silhouette without his glasses, before licking his lips and edging back in. This time he takes the lead. It starts softly, but you definitely don’t mind. His hair feels like silk in between your fingers and the hand you lay on his ribcage doesn’t scare him off. In fact, he seems to want to even the playing field now that you have both your hands on him and moves his free hand to your waist. The weight of his hand feels heavy and hot, and the area of his grasp as his fingers splay out over you reminds you just how big they are. 

Jungkook, being as affectionate as he is, doesn’t need to be told he can wander and soon his hand starts to pet a path down your side and across the small of your back in a mindless, slightly oblong cycle. You can feel the butterflies you felt earlier in your belly getting replaced with a familiar pressure, a faithful precursor to the exact slickness between your thighs that started this heavy petting session. But you figure, there’s all weekend and you’re in no rush. If you had a little devil on your shoulder it would be telling you to draw things out, reminding you that learning is something that takes time, and Jungkook loves to learn more than anyone else you know.

Your pull away again slightly, opting for pressing small iterative kisses on his lips and he chases your mouth, not ready to stop. Pushing forward, you leave kisses like stepping stones until he gets the hint and allows you to guide him into lying propped up on his back.

“It’s easier like this. Easier than sitting up, I mean,” you mutter when you finally have him gazing up at you from the pillows. You lay a hand a few inches below his heart, feeling how it races as he lay under you. “It’s also easier for me too if I sit like this.”

“Right.”

He watches you intently as you swing a leg over so you can straddle him and sit yourself in his lap. As soon as do, his hands return to your waist and yours settle on his biceps. Neither of your keep your hands in your initial starting positions and soon your hands end up back in his hair again. A long while passes before you realize that you still haven’t quite reached the first F.

“Jungkook,” you breathe between kisses.

“Yes?”

“You know what French kissing is, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you know how to do it? It might seem like a strange concept so if you want to skip—”

“No, I want to. I mean I want you to show me.”

“Okay.”

Keeping the mood is important, so you don’t jump into it right away. You’re very much aware that no one responds well to a tongue being shoved into their mouth. With that in mind, you kiss him like you did before, but sneak in a small swipe of the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip. He gasps and in the small moment of surprise, you probe a bit further. He gasps again when the muscle moves across his, but the movement is similar enough to how your lips molded against his earlier that it doesn’t take him too long to get the hang of it. When his tongue slides to edges of your teeth you can’t help but let out a tiny moan. Almost as if a switch was flipped, Jungkook’s arms come to wrap around you tightly, crashing you to his chest and he moves like he’s trying to devour you. At first, there’s a bit too much saliva, but with a well-placed hand on his jaw, you maneuver him into a pattern that’s a little less like a washing machine, but he gets too close-lipped. Another well-placed turn of his jaw puts him right on balance. It’s damn near perfect and, in truth, you’re certain that you could get off like this; with the slick sounds of your mouths working together and the sounds of his periodic gasps fill the room like a symphony underneath you. You dig your blunt nails into the muscle of his thigh and use all of your willpower not to beg him to let you pull down his pants and sink down on his length.

You plant a trail of kisses down his neck before pulling back, suffocating in your pullover. He blinks up slowly at you, about to ask if he overstepped his bounds, but then you grasp both his hands and bring them to where the hem of your baby tee ends. You’re about to take advantage of the whole ‘For Yoori’ situation, but you’re so desperate you don’t care that you’re being an ass.

“What is it?”

“Yoori might be the type of girl to want her boobs played with a little.” You reach behind yourself and under the shirt to unfasten the bra underneath. He squints and then his eyes grow wide as he watches you slide the bra off without ever lifting your shirt. “I mean, that always does the trick for me.”

With that, you lift his hands the last few inches until he’s cupping your breasts. He squeezes a little, tests the weight of them in each large hand. He’s fascinated at the way your nipples seem to appear from out of nowhere to push behind the fabric. He brushes his thumbs over the two peaks and smiles when you’re head drops forward and you scrabble to clutch at his shoulders.

“They’re soft,” his tone is dumbstruck and he squeezes again.

“Yeah, they are. Hey, if you pinch them, she might get really wet. Try--mmm--rolling them between your fingers.”

He heeds your suggestion and plays with your chest until you realize you’ve been grinding against his sweatpants covered leg, completely soaking the fabric with a growing dark spot.

“Looks like you’re ready,” he says softly, the wetness finally accumulating enough to be tangible. “Do we stop now?”

“Do you want to stop?”

He chews a bit on his lip and debates lying so he doesn’t seem needy before remembering it’s you he’s dealing with.

“No,” he finally says.

“We can keep going,” you pull him by his collar to help him sit up. “Are you comfortable like this?”

He nods before sitting up a little, dragging you with him as he moves. You settle back and then you’re pinning him with a look. Curiosity keeps you from immediately going back in to kiss him despite the fact that he just admitted to you that he wanted to continue. The air fills with challenge, the light experimental feeling replaced, and he senses it just like you do. He doesn’t try to steer things back to the way they were though, and instead he takes a moment to enter your space. His breath puffs against your cheek while he gathers his bearings.

“You said you can tell when the mood is the right one for a kiss.”

You hold your breath and think of what to say. Everything feels so fragile and you can practically see the way things are headed but you don’t want to break the tumultuous balance.

“Does right now seem like the right moment to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Jungkook is definitely a prodigy or something. Never in your life have you seen someone so good at picking up new skills as quickly as he does. This is something you’re familiar with and yet you still bury your hands in his shirt out of surprise when his own hand suddenly appears at the back of your neck to pull you in. He tilts his head and kisses you like he’s dehydrated and you’re a softly babbling stream. Each time his lips work over you, you feel as though he’s drinking, like he’s pulling something from you. Something you’ve been dying to have him accept from you for a long while. There’s something soft about the way his tongue slides over yours and it’s so tender and everything you want but its also not enough.

He’s solid underneath you and his skin feels almost feverish with how warm it is. There’s strength in the sinewy bundles that cord under your roaming touch and you want to see him put it to use on you so badly that it frustrates you and bleeds into your kiss. You forget where you are and nip at his lip harshly, though not enough to damage. You forget that you haven’t introduced Jungkook to the rougher parts of amorous activities until he tenses underneath you while letting out a low and guttural groan, hands clutching at your hips tightly and then releasing with a nervous flutter.

“Sorry,” he says shyly as his hands come to rest in the part of his lap that you’re not occupying.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one that bit you.”

“I just meant sorry for…poking you” he can’t finish his sentence because his tongue is tied with embarrassment. You figure he’s talking about how he grabbed you when you bit him and brush it off. Then you feel him thick and hard, nudging your inner thigh.

“Oh. There’s no need to be sorry.”

“But this isn’t about me, this is about--”

“Jungkook,” you stop him with a light hand on his collarbone. “I know your main goal is to be able to please Yoori, but sex is a two-way street. You’re allowed to feel good too.”

“I—okay.” His shoulders are still rounded into himself in a way that makes it clear to you he’s still dwelling on his erection. On instinct you’re moving back in to plant soft kisses on his cheek. You know you’re blurring lines a little by doing so, but you want him to stop feeling so bad.

“Hey, it’s really not an issue. In fact,” you kiss your way to the plush corner of his pouting mouth, “We can really work with this. Let’s try something.”

“What are we going to—Oh!”

His breath leaves him in almost pained huff as you move to slot your dripping center over the bulge in his sweats. A moan sublimates between your mouths and you’re honestly not sure who it came from as you relish in the feel of the drag of the material against your clit. You press kisses to the line of his throat before sucking a bruise at the place where shoulder meets neck. The feeling of your tongue laving small cycles into his skin has his eyes fluttering shut.

After a certain age, Jungkook knew that despite having skipped a few grades, and never having an unweighted GPA of less than 4.46, there were things that  some of his peers were becoming aware of but would remain mysterious to him. A few petty classmates had also reminded him on a regular basis that he may only ever know the feeling of relief when it was supplied by his own lubed up right hand. It didn’t worry him much because he assumed that was the fate all those who devoted their lives to science until he watched his peers begin to date as well. Suddenly he was monitoring the freshman night lab by himself on Friday nights because his shift partner was going on dates.nQuickly after that, he was convinced that he’d never get to feel the warmth of another body under his palms. 

So as his hands move to stroke your up your sides to your ribs, over your breasts, and back down again while bucking up into your heat, he feels a swell of something towards you. It must be gratitude because you’re giving him a gift. The ability to feel and hold someone while they’re in the throes of an orgasm he produced. And because of this, he’ll be able to do it with Yoori, the girl of his dreams.

He opens his eyes to stare up at your face which is scrunched up in pleasure. It’s amazing, he notes, how easy it is to do all these new things with you. Even the initial fear of failure that he often gets with new subjects fades away in an instant when you put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

You’re warm above him and soft under his hands where he kneads at your chest. He flexes a thigh to give himself so leverage to hump up against you and you whine at the way he now presses firmly against your core. You bury your face in his neck and snap your hips forward. The abrupt onslaught of friction takes him by surprise and he’s coming in his pants after not ten minutes of dry humping with you in between his Thor sheets. The pleasure is so intense that his vision whites out as he cums and he throws all caution to wind as it rips through him. His arms wind around you and pull you closer, a whine leaving him as he slumps back into the pillows.

You fall back with him and let out a small ‘oof’. A quick glance at his sweat drenched and flushed face tells you he must have had a good time. Strong arms are still locked around your waist and the surprise of falling distracted you from chasing your own high, so you merely wriggle out of his grasp and sit back on your heels.

“Good?”

He gives you a wry smile that you usually only see when he’s been drinking. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say as you hop of the bed and pull on your forgotten joggers before picking up your backpack.

“Wait! Where are you going?” His tone is open and clearly distressed. He fumbles for the prescription goggles that rest on the night table by the bed and shoves them onto his face roughly.

“To shower? My stuff is in my backpack.”

“Oh. Well…did you bring a sleeping bag?”

“No, but I brought a blanket and a pillow for the couch.”

“Don’t sleep on the couch,” you raise an incredulous brow and he backpedals. “We all spent 4 hours farting into that couch because no one wanted to pause the game.”

“Not me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” your face heats up. Whether or not you’re lying is none of his business and you’ll fart where you please without feeling shamed for it. “I’ll just sleep in here. I guess.”

Your time in the bathroom is stressful. Leaving his bedroom, you had a mean case of blue balls and you weren’t sure you could deal with them in his bathroom. It’s never something you imagined you’d have to do while you were at his place, though its not the first time you’ve spent the night or showered there. Game night can get long and you’ve spent many a night fighting Hoseok for hot water in Jungkook’s dorm. After some long and hard thinking about the long and hard thing in Jungkook’s pants, you decide he isn’t the only person who gets to do things for the first time and guide the detachable the shower head between your legs with a fist in your mouth to muffle your moans.

Jungkook is exactly where you left him when you return from the shower, but you can’t face him as you turn back the covers on your half of the bed.

“How was your shower?”

“It was a shower, it was fine.”

“Okay,” he says after a beat.

“I’ll try to be quiet when I leave for yoga. You can keep the light on if you’re not going to sleep right now.”

Up until you said that, Jungkook was tired, but he stays up until your breathing slows and deepens with sleep. It’s drastically different from the way your breath hitched loudly in the shower. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, he just wanted some water before bed. But there was something almost musical about the sounds of your choked off moans as you tried to be quiet in the bathroom. He’s proud to say that he didn’t linger once he realized what was going on. He went straight back to his room when his dick twitched in his pants.

Now that you’re asleep, he ventures out the clean himself up before returning. You’ve stolen his pillow to clutch over your face by the time he’s come back. Your pillow from home is still wedged safely under your head and he doesn’t want to wake you. He’s left with no other option than to rest his head on your stomach. If he doesn’t, he won’t sleep at all without a pillow and that’s no good. This is clearly the only solution. Clearly.

When you wake up the next morning 5 minutes before your alarm because you can’t breathe because there’s a giant weight on your chest. The weight is actually Jungkook and you’re not sure what to do. 

Apparently, you spend 5 minutes not sure what to do because your alarm starts, waking Jungkook with more confidence than you ever could. You watch with fascination as his eyes open slowly, and wriggling out from under you to wipe at the corners. He turns, resting his chin near your belly button and blinks sleepily at you, gears turning slowly before registering where he is and what he’s doing. You chance a small smile at him.

“Morning.”

“Good morning,” he says. His stare is intense and you wonder if maybe you look haggard or messy.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t respond and instead inches forward with a look of determination. When he’s an inch in front of your face you realize what he’s doing, but its too late to complain about morning breath or being late to Saturday morning yoga. 

It’s not long before he’s licking into your mouth slowly, giving you a chance to pull back, change the pace, tweak something. But there’s nothing to change. It doesn’t taste great but it feels amazing and your hands reach up to pull him down onto you without a thought. He groans and tentatively rubs his thumb over the swell of your breast that peeks through the side of your sleeveless sleep tank.

You miss yoga.

[relenafanel]

Professional 3rd Wheel drabble for deliveryisdelayed

For @deliveryisdelayed as one of the Patreon rewards

Bucky wasn’t the first person in the world to think up the idea of being a professional 3rd wheel. He probably wasn’t even the first one in Brooklyn. He WAS the first to put together an App and a team of volunteers that soon became a team of professional hires. There wasn’t a ton of money in it, but then it wasn’t Bucky’s primary job.

You had to get creative when your bedroom in a shared apartment cost $1200 a month.

Carol was one of Bucky’s long-standing customers. She was notoriously picky and completely unable to let someone down easy. She was his favorite, and it wasn’t because she went on an average of 3 dates a month that usually ended with her enjoying her meal alone, but that certainly helped. Bucky appreciated a good casual alone-date.

So he wasn’t surprised when the automatic text came through on his phone for him to bail her out. He took off his gloves and left them in the seat of his car, locking the door behind him before wandering into the café.

“Oh Carol,” Bucky started to say, sparing a glace for her date sitting opposite her. Then he did a double-take. “Steve!” he blurted out in shock. “You’re on a date?”

Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK.

Steve. On a date.

With Carol?

Bucky was interrupting Steve on a date. With Carol.

Oh no.

Steve was Bucky’s absolutely gorgeous boy-next-door fantasy who had been in a relationship since the first moment Bucky had met him. He’d met Peggy too, she was lovely. If anything, she was too good for Steve and that was saying something. He also knew that if Steve was on a date that their relationship was over and probably had been for a while.

Steve looked up at him and winced and then shrugged. “Unsuccessfully, it seems,” he pushed back from the table with an earnest kind of grace for being the kind of date that had Bucky called in. “I’ll pay the bill. Excuse me.”

Bucky turned towards Carol with wide eyes. “That was Steve Rogers,” he hissed. “You were on a date with Steve Rogers and you called me in? He’s single like once a decade.”

“He just got out of a long-term relationship. That’s baggage I don’t want.”

Bucky almost made a frustrated sound of disbelief. Everyone had baggage! If Bucky could handle Steve’s baggage – and Bucky was notoriously fickle, it was where the whole idea for his third wheel service had come from – then anyone could!

“Fine,” Bucky said. “Are you ok? Do you want company?” he asked because that was part of his job. It was what set him apart from the guys on Craigslist who did this for a lot less. Bucky had cultivated a reputation for being a quasi-bodyguard in addition to a date destroyer.  Putting his muscles to good use and all.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “I’ve got this whole burger to finish.”

“Good,” he said and moved to intercept Steve.

x.x.x.

“I just wanted a starter date,” Steve explained, sitting on a cold metal bench. Bucky had winced when he sat next to him, and resigned himself to the fact he’d left his gloves in his car. “Someone who didn’t know me and who didn’t matter. That sounds cold. I don’t mean it cold. A fresh start. I wanted a fresh start.”

“Fresh starts are hard,” Bucky pointed out to him. “The two of you get to know each other based on surface level stuff.” He put his hands in his pocket to resist from reaching out to touch Steve, but then ended up putting his hand on Steve’s back anyway. “At least don’t mention Peggy next time.”

“I don’t think there will be a next time,” Steve said, and his head was hanging low, almost between his knees.

“Steve,” Bucky said.

“It was devastating looking up and seeing you there, and know what you were doing. The harbinger of first date doom.”

“I’ll put that on my business card,” Bucky responded, glib but internally wincing.

“I thought it was going ok,” he said, almost completely muffled by his hands.

“Sometimes it’s not you,” Bucky pointed out, and tried not to sound too much like he was being kind because he knew Steve wouldn't take it well if he thought he was being pitied or coddled. “I’d date you. I want to, if you’d like?” He felt like his heart was pounding a mile a minute.

Steve looked up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed but he wasn’t crying. “So you can teach me what I’m doing wrong?” he asked, a bitter tinge to his tone. “I probably need something like that, but I’m going to have to turn you down.”

Bucky was speechless for a moment. “Fuck off with that. No! Are you joking? I wanted to ask you out the first time we met.”

“Oh.” Steve looked surprised.

“Part of me always hoped you’d be single and I’d have a chance to at least ask, but Peggy’s lovely and the two of you seemed perfect together. I thought you’d eventually get married.”

This made Steve wince more than seeing Bucky interrupt his date had.

“Oh,” Bucky winced back. “I didn’t realize.”

“She never really wanted to. It wasn’t just one thing or one fight,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t just that I wanted to get married and she didn’t. It was… the things we couldn’t find a mutual compromise that made both of us happy started to overshadow the things that we could.”

Bucky swallowed heavily. “How long has it been?”

“Three months.”

“Maybe you need more time.”

“It’s so quiet in the apartment. I’ve tried to go out with friends, but it feels like it’s worse when I have to go home to an empty room, and,” he inhaled. “You’re right, of course you’re right. I don’t know how to be alone.”

Bucky picked his words carefully. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned through my job it’s that some people never learn how to be alone. That’s ok for them, but I think that you don’t want to jump back in on a long term relationship with the first person you hit it off with on a surface level. I don’t mean to put words in your mouth, but you deserve more than that.”

Steve frowned at him.

Yeah, Bucky had definitely gone too far.

And his frown deepened in thought.

“You’re right, of course,” Steve admitted. “It’s too soon and I need to adjust first. Thanks for talking me down.”

“Do you want a ride home, or…?”

“No, it’s a nice evening. I’ll walk,” his lip quirked. “I’m not one of your clients, you don't need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Shit. And Bucky had missed his window to date Steve Rogers again. Fucking hell.

He didn’t just miss his window. He’d closed it himself.

x.x.x.

Bucky’s main fear seeing Steve’s name flash on his caller ID was that Steve was looking to hire him for his next adventure in dating 101. “Hello?” he said, because listening to a voicemail he’d then have to make a return call for was worse than just picking up in the first place. It had been 4 months since Bucky disastrously asking Steve out, so for all Bucky knew he was being invited to a wedding.

“It didn’t seem right to do this over text.”

“Are you getting married?” he asked.

“No,” Steve emphasized, insulted by the question. “I took your advice. I feel less like I have to move on to fill a gaping hole in my chest and more like I want to move on to find someone important. I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Yep. He was a stupid idiot.

“Are you free this Friday?”

“I… what?”

“You asked me out and then you lectured me into giving myself time to heal.”

“You don’t owe me a date!” Bucky responded. This was worse. This was 100% worse.

“I don’t owe you shit,” Steve said back in just as hot of a tone. “I wanted to say yes then, and I want to say yes now. So are you free this Friday?”

Bucky actually already had a date for Friday night, but it wasn’t much of a choice. “Give me five minutes. I’ll have to call you back.”

x.x.x.

Dating Steve was exactly what Bucky hoped it would be. His chest felt too small to contain his heart, a steady reminder that he was nervous. When Steve had moved into the rooms below his, Bucky had thought ‘this is the man’ and then he’d met Peggy. It was the lamest tragedy of his life considering that he’d partially pined after the man for years. He hadn’t actively pursued a crush, but there’d been a niggling awareness every time they spoke that Bucky could and would enjoy a serious relationship with the man.

Steve looked just as nervous as Bucky felt. “I’ve been told I’m not great at this.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, at least I can’t show up to interrupt this one.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth tilted up. “I remember the time you called me from the bathroom to come fake an emergency with your pet snake.”

“And then you told me it ate my cat,” Bucky pointed out, held Steve’s gaze, and burst out laughing. “It was both awful and brilliant. You’re the shittiest fake pet sitter ever.”

Bucky moved carefully, putting his hand over Steve’s on the table. It was a lame move, but it still felt like something illicit. Skin to skin contact. Oh wow.

They smiled at each other, tentative and new and uncertain.

Bucky watched as his phone lit up with a phone call. Steve watched too, his fingers spasming under Bucky’s like he was controlling himself from jerking away. “I promise I wouldn’t," Bucky swore.

“I know,” Steve said it with confidence, but there was something in his expression as Bucky declined the call.

“Not because I’m worried about you knowing my tricks. I’d just tell you straight.”

His phone lit up again with Becca calling back.

“Sorry,” he said to Steve. “What!” Bucky barked. He was 100% sure he’d told her to cancel the plan for her to interrupt him once his date changed to Steve. He knew he did because she’d looked at him wide-eyed and went ‘does that mean Peggy is single?’ and when he pointed out that she’d never shown interest in women before she’d enunciated ‘PEGGY CARTER’.

“I’m at the hospital,” she told him. “Broke my ankle.”

“I’m on a date!” he reminded her. “With Steve!”

“Riiiight,” she said. “Oh god, that was tonight. Right. Sorry.”

“Sorry,” Bucky repeated to Steve once he hung up and debated whether he’d find Becca’s sapphic awakening over Peggy funny.

Then Becca texted him.

Becca: I really am at the hospital tho

Becca: Maybe after your date the two of you could come get me?

Becca: I’ll probably need someone with Steve’s muscles to carry me up the 4 flights of stairs to my apartment.

Becca: But the cast isn’t even on yet, you have time.

Becca: Probably not if you were thinking of fucking. Come get me first then.

Bucky barely resisted the urge to drop his head to the table.

x.x.x.

Steve was definitely a keeper since he did carry Becca up four flights of stairs without dropping her. That was pretty heroic considering she kept squirming to look at Bucky behind Steve’s back while telling Steve about the embarrassing time Bucky had tried to use a can of Red Bull as a sex toy, and how no one had carried him up the stairs afterwards. She’d had to help him an inch at a time.

“I’m pretty much going to murder her,” Bucky told Steve, after he’d dumped Becca’s crutches and pain meds next to her on the bed.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “That was awfully embarrassing for you. I remember that limp.”

Bucky flushed.

“But then,” Steve mused. “It’s probably a good thing you don’t get daunted by a challenge.”

What the fuck did that even mean? “Are you implying what I think you are?” he asked.

“Guess you’ll find out sometime.” and then he smirked.

[noobfics-btsblog]

Pairing: JK x reader

genre: some smut *crude language/sex/alcohol use.

summery: Jungkook is all grown up now and he wants to prove it to you.

inspired by ‘Molly Cool’ by Atmosphere and the fact that jk just had a birthday :p

a/n: if you read my fluff ‘Rain’ try my smut ‘Girls like her, Guys like him’ part 1 of a series I’m working on

This night club was a bit “underground” and not many people knew about it and it was smaller than maybe a more popular night club would be, it was more like a bar that just so happened to have a dance floor. even so, it was pretty crowded and at 12 a.m., the party was at full swing.

we were “celebrating” my 21st birthday tonight. i say it with a hint of sarcasm as i hadn’t been the one who wanted to come out tonight. I was with two of my best friends, jimin and taehyung, who were 2 years older than me and seeing as i was turning 21 they had been planning this night out all week.

“i’ll buy you your first drink, but after that, you’re buying all the rounds” jimin said with a laugh “gotta flaunt that ID, you know?” he didn’t give me the opportunity to protest, he was making his way pretty quickly through the crowd of people toward the bar.

i looked over at tae who had stayed by me- laughing of course- and decided i’d complain to him  “couldn’t we have just gotten a few beers and hung out at home? i don’t even like partying”

“you’ll have fun after a few drinks” taehyung said, putting an arm around my shoulder. “come on, lets find a place to sit”

Surprisingly, he was right. he guided me over to some empty couches off to the side of the dance floor where eventually jimin found us with 3 beers in hand. i did eventually buy 2 additional rounds of beer followed by 3 rounds of shots-courtesy of taehyung- needless to say, we were having a pretty good time laughing and bullshitting- tae even trying to give me a lap dance at some point. And speaking of dancing, the music wasn’t bad either. some night clubs have the tendency to play trendy pop songs or aggressively hip hop (or so I've been told). tonight this place was mixing it up well; everything with heavy bass. i was getting into it myself as i started to nod along with the beat.

“Ah..we need to find some women soon!” tae began as he took his 4th shot “i feel way too good and this music is too nice to just be sitting here with you two...although...you are starting to look kinda cute jungkook-ah” he pinched my cheek and i rolled my eyes. this dude was definitely drunk. i gave him a swift punch in the ribs to which he responded to with a grunt. “ah punk” while we were laughing, jimin sitting across from us, cut in.

“actually, I’ve been eyeing the group of girls over there.” he pointed at the direction behind us. “the group of girls over there by that pillar” when we turned, it took me a moment, but I found the group he was talking about.  They were sitting on a L-shaped couch that was against a wall in one of the corners of the club pretty far from the dance floor. “I saw them come in and they don’t seem to be here with any guys” jimin continued “it’s perfect there’s 3 of them and 3 of us..although, that one at the end looks a bit...” he didn’t finish his sentence, offering only a head tilt with a shrug of one shoulder.

I knew which one he was talking about. the one on the left end. I knew because she was different from the two other girls. the other girls were the cute type, they were bubbly, talkative, wore cute clothes and cute make up. this girl, the girl who had her hand on her cheek and arm on the arm rest, wore all black. she had long hair that fell in gentle waves, smokey eye make up and a bold red lipstick, a black strappy crop top, ripped black jeans, and short black boots with studs. and i saw it all in that order as i looked at her from top to bottom. when i shifted my focus back to her face i noticed something else: she seemed..bored. the other two girls were talking to each other but this girl didn't seem to care to take part as her eyes danced around the club.

“mm, yeah i see” teahyung’s voice cut through my thoughts and i turned back to my group. “well”, he continued slamming a pat on my back, “since it’s your birthday, which do you want?” he gave me a quick up and down of his eyebrows to egg me on.

“they aren’t puppies” jimin chimed in “they might not want either of us”

“it doesn’t matter” I cut in “I definitely cant talk to any girls right now”

“aw don’t tell me you’re shy” jimin teased with a giant smile on his face.

“no..I’m not shy” i lied “just drunk. i don’t want to look stupid”

“ah this kid” tae this time “they don’t call it liquid courage for nothing” jimin jumped from his seat to sit on the other side of me and they both began harassing me, poking at me, shoving me back and forth between them. finally i gave up.

“ok, ok!..” i huffed a breath and turned back to look at the girls. “i guess..the girl in black isn't too bad.” she was still looking off into space, but this time, as if she felt me looking at her, her gaze shifted and our eyes met. neither of us wavered and i wondered what that meant..

“really? I thought the other two would be more your type” jimin said. I was still looking at her, she had leaned into her friend and whispered something in her ear and returned her gaze in my direction with a smirk on her face. after the second girl whispered in the ear of the third girl, they were now all three looking at us. my eyes widened and i turned swiftly back to my group. taehyung laughed and nudged me in the arm

“i think you have to now” he handed me my 4th shot that was still on the table in front of us. i took it and knocked it back.

“ah...here goes nothing” i hesitated a moment looking back and forth between my two friends who gave me some looks of encouragement. i stood up first and slowly made my way over to the group, my two friends close behind. the two bubbly girls on the right became giggly, leaning into each other. but not HER, not MY girl. she kept it cool, she looked calm as her eyes smiled along with that sexy smirk of hers. i felt my heart start to race and i hoped that i at least looked as cool as her on the outside. when i was finally face to face with the girls i realized something, i had no idea what i was going to say! i had been to focused on her and her look that i completely disregarded the fact i needed an opening line! for a moment i just stood there in my panic, my eyes shifting back and forth as i searched my mind for something, anything. eventually it was jimin who jarred me out of my stupor with a swift pat on my back.

i laughed nervously and smiled . “um hi..uh..me and my friends..” i started,  pointing to the guys behind me, they had big smiles on there face (trying not to laugh at my weak attempt at a pick up) and tae waved “we noticed you guys from across the way and..thought we’d ask if we could join you?” as i said that last bit my eyes floated over to the girl in black. taehyung, practically pushing me out of the way, came up from behind me.

“actually..” he said extending a hand toward the girl in the middle, “i was wondering if you’d like to dance?” the girl blushed as she turned to her friends looking for their approval, the other bubbly girl was the only one to give her a sway of the head and a hushed “go”. she smiled and with a nod took his hand.

as they walked away tae gave us his signature ‘peace sign’ goodbye. putting the ‘v’ up to  his face then pointing it at us. it was kind of stupid but i had to admit, it looked cool just then. as i watched them disappear into the crowd, jimin was already making his move.

“what about you, lovely? would you like to dance, i promise I’m really good” he emphasized the word with a quirked brow and that classic jimin eye smile. these guys were starting to make me look bad. i mean, objectively, we were all pretty good looking guys but they were smooth when it came to women. and then there was me. i have good facial expressions or whatever, but when it came to talking to girls, it didn’t come so naturally to me.

the girl looked into jimins eyes and simply nodded. and then they were gone. leaving me alone with the girl in black. i turned to look at her. she still had the same expression on her face. like she was daring me to say something and didn’t think i was up for it. i took the dare.

“um can i sit with you”

“what? you don’t dance?” she raised a brow. her voice was even and smooth, like her voice was made of velvet and drenched in seduction- or at least that’s the effect it was having on me- i licked my lips, my mouth suddenly felt dry. i took a seat next to her, hunched over a bit (elbows on my knees, my attempt at looking relaxed), and wringing my hands nervously between my legs.

“I’m actually a dancer- all three of us, actually. I just thought we could talk first”. i cringed internally. how many times was i going to say ‘actually’?

“And what do you want to talk about?”

I shrugged “I don’t know. what’s your name..for starters..I’m Jungkook” I tried to shake her hand but she didn’t take it.

She narrowed her eyes  and began to lean closer to me and i felt my body tense as i sat a little straighter. “how old are you”. she was smirking.

I looked away for a second trying to think if I should lie, then back to her. She looked like she was around my age so I couldn't understand why she was asking me. So, I decided on the truth. “I’m 21″

“Aw, cute” she smiled. “are you having you’re first drink tonight? Is that why you’re here?”.

Was she mocking me? Did i just lose my shot before...  “No. Its not my first drink. Don’t we all have our first drink early?” I felt defensive “How old are you? It’s not like you look any older than me”

“I’m 25.” she said evenly. I furrowed my brows and shrugged. she understood what i was trying to say: so? “That’s a whole 4 years older. I mean, don’t get me wrong, physically you’re man-” she raised her brows while her eyes danced around my body. i shifted in my seat, rolling my shoulders back once. “-but mentally, in my experience anyway, guys like you are immature..” she got even closer until she was right up next to me. she put a hand on my knee and leaned in to speak  low and slow into my ear. “I know what you’re thinking: 4 years isn’t that far apart. But it is, and you start to realize it slowly. Guys like you, haven’t lived life yet. Your mind is somewhere between cocky high school fuck boy and early college frat douche bag. Guys like you..think life comes easy because why not, it always has?-” she started to move her hand up my leg, then up my torso, and finally finding its home on my neck, her thumb resting just under my jaw. And she leaned back a little so that we were face to face. “Guys like you...still care to do a bunch of stupid shit to impress people.” The hand that was on my neck began to slide down and she ran a finger along my jaw. And then, the little tease just clasped her hands on her lap and smiled at me, satisfied that she had left me speechless.

Now any guy would have taken the loss and left. maybe even call her a bitch as they did. But me, I felt a sudden curiosity come over me. So I didn't leave, Instead I snorted a laugh. Her face twisted into an angry sort of confusion. “You think you have everything all figured out?” I wasn’t mad. I genuinely wanted to know -was she always like this, and why? and why did i like it? “You think i don't know anything? Let me tell you what i know." I felt a smile grow on my face seeing her still confused. "Girls like you.." I began slowly (I needed to think), "Girls like you think they're cool. But really, girls like you are just bitches." I was wondering if I was going to far. I've never called anyone a bitch, much less a woman. but she only smiled..so I kept going. "Girls like you, like to make people feel small. Girls like you, like to feel superior. Girls like you, act like you don't care about anything. But it takes energy and practice to be that way. This-" I said waving my hand over her, "took a lot of practice. And girls like you practice because you don’t want to let people in. Because girls like you act like they know everything when really...you're just as clueless as me." she didn't say anything so I continued. "As far as who's trying to impress who, I haven't done anything..yet..but you, you've made quite the impression on me" The corners of her mouth were threatening a smile. "So, what else should we talk about?" I was feeling confident- almost a little cocky- probably thanks to the alcohol.

"Jungkook..." She said, dragging her eyes all over me again, tilting her head to the side as her eyes returned to meet mine. "Have you ever been with a woman?" Aaand all of a sudden, all that confidence I felt washed off me in a wave of panic.

"y-yeah..I have" and it was true, I had been. One thing she had right was that things did come somewhat easy to me, one of those things being women. I wasn't any good at talking to them, but it didn't matter, they weren't interested in talking. But this lady..she caught me off guard.

"not like me you haven't"

She was so bold I wasn't sure if that was an invitation or just more of her confusing ramble. But I took my shot. "do- do you wanna get out of here? Or should we stay a while?"

For the second time she pressed herself against me with her hand much higher on my thigh than before and again, her voice nice and even, she said: "I don't care" for a second I didn't know what to do, but then, I swayed my head back, gesturing toward the door.

She smirked, stood up and started walking toward the exit. I was dumbfounded for a moment, I couldn't believe that's all it took. But after coming to my senses I stood up abruptly and practically jogged up to her. I caught a glimpse of Jimin on the dance floor, he saw me, I gave him a peace sign and my cockiest, head tilted back, look. I saw him laugh and i was out.

The taxi ride back to my apartment was uncomfortably silent. I didn't really know what to do, I mean, what was proper etiquette when someone so easily agrees to come home with you? I wasn't lying when I said I had been "intimate" with a girl before, but, there were steps to get there: a conversation, buying of drinks, a dance, make out session, heavy petting over the clothes. Or, if it was someone I wanted to go steady with: getting to know each other, flirting, a FEW dates, and then MAYBE sometime down the road if she was into it. But what the hell do I do when she went from insulting me, to inviting herself over to my place? A thought crept it's way into my mind. I looked out the window -away from her- as I shut my eyes tight, rubbing my forehead, trying to will the thought away. But it was too late...what if she was a hooker? Fuck. What if I walked into an elaborate scam. What if, after we..and she demanded payment after..and I refused..and she leaves, only to come knocking my door down with the pimp that had been following us the whole time? Nervously, I looked behind us. Good, no one was there. I turned to look at her and she winked. That didn't make me feel better.

We got out of the taxi and she let me walk ahead as I lead her to my apartment. I lived on the second level, and my legs felt like jelly walking up to my door. I opened it and motioned for her to walk in first, extending my arm.

"I have a roommate but he's out of town" I started to say as I entered and turned away from her to lock the door behind me. When I faced her again, she was topless, displaying proudly lush and perfectly round breasts. I froze, looking at her with wide eyes.

"what's the matter? You don't like what you see?" She said in a forced pout.

I blinked a few times "i-its not that..you're beautiful".

She smiled. "Do you want to touch them?" I could only nod. Slowly, she closed the distance between us. She took my hand and drew my forefinger to her lips. She kissed it, before she put it her mouth and drawing it out again, slowly, licking the underside, and giving it another kiss. The whole time looking into my eyes through her thick lashes. And that's when I lost it.

I drew my hand out of hers and buried it in her hair as I crashed my lips into her hard. She stumbled back a little at the force. I caught her, grasping her hip with my other hand. She let out a soft moan as our kissed deepened and that made me weak, I whimpered and started to walk her backwards to my room that was just across the hall from the entrance.

Without taking my lips off her I kicked the door closed behind me. I was feeling good. Euphoric. All the tension left my body. I wasn't just drunk from all the drinks at the bar, I was drunk off her as I drank up everything she had to offer. My hands snaked around her body. First from her hip, up her side as I let my thumb just barely graze the side of her breast. Then around and up her back to feel the smooth bare skin. She was soft. And with that thought I took the hand that was Tangled in her hair and slid it down her neck, my finger tips barely grazing the skin, brushing passed her prominent collar bone and down the middle of her cleavage. She broke our kiss and let out a shuddered sigh and I saw the goosebumps start to form. I looked deep into her eyes as I let my fingers roam further down her torso where I found two things: a belly button piercing and (most importantly) the button to her pants. I undid the button and zipper with one hand and feathered my fingertips from the other back down her back to free her from the denim. I kissed her lips, her neck, her chest, and finally her stomach as I dropped to my knees and pulled off her pants. I was gripping her hips with both hands as I bit and kissed the flesh just above her panties. She was wearing a satin black thong. My left hand slid down and around and gripped her thigh. I wanted to tease her a little, pay back for how she treated me at the club. I was going to lay a few more sloppy kisses on her leg right along her bikini line, maybe nibble at her through the thin material covering her mound until she begged me to go further. But instead, something caught my attention. She had a large snake tattoo. It wrapped around her thigh once with the head ending on the outside of her leg facing her hip bone. I don't know why it intrigued me so much. I tracked it with my fingers for a moment marveling at the intricate detail of the scales that were sticking up like scales on a dragon. It was a deep red color with some yellowish tones around the mouth and had a black line down the middle. But I think what I focused on more was the deep, dark look in it's eyes.

I must have paused for a moment too long and I felt her hand slide from my shoulder to the back of my neck.

"Do you like it?.." I looked up at her as she spoke. "It's said to be the most venomous yet least aggressive. And some say the second most beautiful snake in the world. Wanna know which is the first?" I didn't speak, I couldn't, the only response I could give was the eager look in my eyes and my undivided attention. She leaned in close so her face was only inches away. When she spoke again it was only a whisper.

"The first one is me"

She stood straight again and was now looking down at me with her head tilted to the side and a smug look on her face. And here I was, still on my knees and speechless. Fuck this. For the millionth time tonight I was glad I was drunk and I let the alcohol take over.

As I stood up I took her with me, lifting her up swiftly and wrapping her legs around me. She gasped at the sudden movement and I felt her squeeze me tighter. I walked over to the bed where I basically dropped her on her back. She still had that same smug look on her face except now she was giggling.

"What's wrong love? Are you afraid of snakes?"

Now it was my turn to make her speechless. I didn't answer her. Instead I crawled on top of her and lowered my body, one hand falling on her hip as I supported myself on my elbow with the other arm.

"No.." my voice came out in a raspy whisper, "and I'm not afraid of you either, so stop trying to scare me away" her smile started to fade and for a moment she looked as cute and innocent as her friends did earlier as she looked at me with those dark eyes.

All at once lunged up and wrapped her arms around my neck and she was kissing me with more hunger than before. As her tongue swirled around with mine my hand slid up from her hip and finally made its way to cup her breast. I squeezed the supple flesh and ran my thumb all around the nipple as I pressed my Jean covered erection into her.

Suddenly, she broke away from me. She grabbed the collar of my and pushed me off her.

"Get against the headboard" she demanded in a husky voice. And being the gentleman I was, I complied. I switched her places and scooted up so my back was against the headboard and supported by pillows.

"Undress. Shirt first" she cocked an eyebrow. My head tilted to one side and I smirked. I was confused but amused at the same time. What was she up to? Again I obeyed. I started to unbutton my shirt, tilted my head back keeping my stare on her to see any hint of reaction. She seemed to enjoy what she was seeing and she bit her bottom lip.

After seeing that I was satisfied enough to take my stare off her and instead looked down at hands to unbuckle my belt, still wearing a slight smirk on my face. I took my pants and underwear off in one swift motion letting my erection bounce off my stomach. Nothing had really happened, just a few kisses and touches, but the mystery of her and what was about to happen had left my mind open to the imagination and that was enough to leave me fully erect and throbbing. I lifted my graze, and slowly she looked up from my cock and gave me a mischievous grin. She started to crawl closer. She licked her lips as she did. She straddled one of my legs and smugly sat up straight, licked the palm of her hand, gripped the tip, and slid it all the way down to the base.

My breath hitched, and with each up and down glide I moaned and hissed. And soon enough I was pudy in her hand.

"Does it feel good?" She sighed out. I let out a staggered breath and nodded. "Tell me"

"it feels amazing" I groaned and let my head fall back only to be brought back up by the sudden feeling of her warm wet lips sucking the tip. I huffed out a breath and reached out for her shoulder to regain my self. Her tongue swept passed her lips and licked the underside of my cock from base back to tip where she closed her mouth and came off it with a light pop that sounded more like kissing noises. She played with it a little, sucking the head, rubbing the underside of her tongue along the top and then swirling it around. I was a mess of hisses and soft sighs until she finally took me into her warm wet mouth. I groaned loud and slid my hand into her hair as she wrapped her mouth tightly around me, making sure her tongue was always in contact.

My head was still laid back against the wall, which apparently she had a problem with. I felt her poke my chest with a single finger. When I looked down she came off me with a pop.

"I'm doing this for you..why aren't you watching?" Her voice sounded almost innocent, but it was forced and it was apparent it was a "good girl" act when she tilted her head to one side.

"I'm sorry" I said breathlessly.

Slowly, a big smile started to form "that's a good boy"

Without warning she plunged down on me faster this time. I groaned and winced. All I wanted to do was shut my eyes and concentrate on not fucking cuming! But I didn't. I kept my eyes on her as she asked. The room was dark, but the moonlight was seeping through the window hitting her like a spotlight.

The scene it illuminated, objectively, was obscene. Her bobbing up and down on my dick, spit everywhere, lipstick smeared. But I couldn't help but think 'beautiful'. My train of thought was interrupted by her again. Literally sucking and making her tongue pulse against me. The feeling was similar to when a woman is about to orgasm. The walls clenching and releasing. I was about to come undone. At this point I was holding her face with both hands and nearly bucking my hips deeper into her.

"I'm guna cum" I mumbled. As soon as I said the words, she swung her head back and sat up on her knees.

"No you're not. Not yet" she said with a small grin. She slipped off her black silky thong and crawled closer. Each move looked slow and precise. The way maybe her snake would when it found its prey. She straddled me, not yet letting me in. She held me in her hand still rubbing it with the left over spit.

"Do you want to be inside me jungkook?" Sje whispered in my ear. I sighed out as I let my head fall on her shoulder and wrapped my arms around her. One hand on the small of her back, the other in her hair again.

I really did. I wanted to grab onto her shoulders and push her as deeply down on my throbbing cock and fill her up with the whole length of me as I also bucked into her slow so she could feel how hard she made me. But there was no gentlemanly way of saying such things. Which left me to only whisper:

"I do"

She stood up on her knees and she led the tip of my dick to her. I found out she was wet as she swirled it around her entrance, coating it in her arousal. How was she wet already? Just from sucking my off? I didn't have time to have a second thought as lowered herself slowly, taking every inch of me.

We both gasped. We settled like this for a moment; my forehead against her chest, I wrapped my arms around her tightly and pressed her as close to me as possible as she waited to adjust to the feeling.

I needed some time to adjust as well. For one, I had been so close to coming just a few moments ago, but the pressure of her tight silky walls were calming the feeling a bit. I felt my self shutter as I let out a few staggered breaths.

She ran her fingers up the nape of my neck and in my hair. I looked up at her and she smiled. It was a small and kind of shy smile, but for the first time tonight it was a true, genuine smile. I huffed a smile myself and she giggled with me. It was like, for a moment, we both realized how crazy this was.

She leaned in and gave me a peck on the lips. When she pulled away, that mischievous grin was back. She grabbed my wrists and unwrapped my arms from around her. She held my arms down as she started to rock her hips into me. I sighed out with every movement. They were short and precise strokes. It felt good and she seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes had closed and her mouth had parted slightly.

The room filled with soft sighs and low moans as she continued to ride me.

The wan was driving me crazy as she quickened the pace. She didn't let me touch her. She had my arms pinned down and I let her take control. I liked it, I only half pretending to try to break free. But I wasn't going to let her getting away with this so easy. She wouldn't let me touch her- fine. Instead I bucked my hips up in rhythm with her. That earned me a deeper groan falling from her. She let her face fall into the crook of my neck. She sighed and moaned in my ear as the movements became more precise, stronger, deeper.

I felt her walls start to tighten. Her nails dug into my arms and I knew she was close. Her moans were turning into whimpers and her lips were grazing my ear. Her hair was in my face. I couldn't see I could only feel and it was amazing.

Her breath hitched and she hesitated only for a second and she went back to rocking her hips back and forth, riding out her release. She quivered and panted. I couldn't take this anymore.

I broke free from her grip, wrapped my arm around her, and swiftly flipped her on her back, taking my place. Now I was in control. She squealed excitedly at the sudden movement.

I pressed myself against her core, trying to bury myself deeper. She wasn't laughing anymore. Instead now she wrapped her legs around my waist tightly and let out a dragged out, relieved almost, moan and let her arms rest above her head. I pressed her arms down this time and began to land kisses anywhere I could. Her lips, her neck, her collar bones. All the way down until I reached her breast and took it in my mouth. My tongue played with her nipple. Swirling in circles and flicking it across the sensitive flesh. I was keeping my rhythm hard and deep. Not too fast at first. Not until she was a whimpering mess. Her back arched and she cried out. She tried to wiggle her arms out from under me, but unlike me, she actually couldn't.

"just tell me what you want" i said against her chest, my voice a husky whisper. I wanted her to beg this time. I slowed the pace so give her the opportunity to speak. Now I was coming out fully and slowly driving myself back in. Her moans were now mere sighs, she was catching her breath. She swallowed before she went to speak.

"I want you"

"I'm right here" as I spoke the last word, I let my throbbing cock dig deeper and I lingered there for a moment to emphasize my point. She let out another dragged out moan and my name followed.

"jungkook"

"hm"

"kiss me" her eyes looked deep into mine, they were pleading. I looked at her parted lips..and I couldn't resist.

My mouth went crashing down on hers. My hands slid down from her arms and down her body. She grabbed the back of my head and deepened our kiss. I snaked a hand around her and cupped the back of her head and the other cupping the curve of her ass. She tightened her legs around my waist as I practically fucked her into the mattress. We were both loud this time. The room filled with her cries, my grunts, and the sound of flesh repeatedly against each other. I felt her start to quiver again and the walls of her pulse around my dick. The more she closed on me the more my own pressure started to build. Her nails were digging into my back again. I buried my face into her neck as we both climaxed at the same time. I felt the heat spill out into her and I slowly rode out my orgasm.

I collapsed on her. She giggled. We were both panting. I pulled myself out of her and kissed her once more before rolling off. We payed there for a second catching out breath.

She let out a satisfied sigh and all of a sudden she sat up, got up from the bed, and started getting dressed.

[littlelovelymemes]

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Like…really hates them in an oddly personal way? Do you think they know?  ’ ‘  and the final mood for 2017 is: you know those days where you’re like, this might as well happen?  ’ ‘  putting more importance into self care, spirituality, love and peace of mind. start with stretching and deep breathing.  ’ ‘  dont forget to tell someone you love that you love them, thank people who deserve to be thanked, be more patient on people having a hard time, be more considerate, understanding, and be kinder, always.  ’ ‘  do you think in the 1700s there were people who were like nah man Mozart’s a total sellout I only listen to peasants beating things with sticks it’s way more authentic  ’ ‘  2032 is gonna be my year just u wait  ’ ‘  I want a “I made a playlist for you” typa love  ’ ‘  @ 2018 the bar is literally so low  ’ ‘  Just because you don’t look like somebody who you think is attractive doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. Flowers are pretty, but so are sunsets and they look nothing alike.  ’ ‘  i have a “why am i like this” moment at least five times a day  ’ ‘  very sad to hear about donald trump. nothing happened to him i’m just sad to hear about him  ’ ‘  *me, eyes wide open at 3am* what happened to chandler bing once he got to yemen  ’ ‘  tonight’s mood is the deep desire to be held close in a dimly lit room, covered in blankets while rain is softly falling outside  ’ ‘  do ya ever bring your pet up to a mirror and ur like “that you”  ’ ‘  i guess im just too fucking dumb to lucid dream. cant ever realize im in a dream, i’ll look around me like damn i’m in my old elementary school and my teeth are falling out and im naked? well shit guess this is my life now. got fooled by my subconscious again lads  ’ ‘  u ever get no sleep and the next day ur body functions like the tumblr app  ’ ‘  you ever wonder how many people you’re in the “we’re friends but i would kiss you if you asked” club with  ’ ‘  is anyone else just going through life like “yeah i just gotta get past this last difficult week and then it’s smooth sailing from there!” but like… every week  ’ ‘  The only thing toxic that you should still be in contact with is that song Britney Spears made, because that song is lit.  ’ ‘  imagine if you named your kid dad. just dad.  ’ ‘  take care of yourself, please. i don’t know what id do if anything happened to you.  ’ ‘ crazy how personal growth can make you let go of people you swore you couldn’t live without.  ’ ‘  im in no position to have high standards but it doesn’t stop me  ’ ‘  you can start over at anytime. your day is not ruined. your world is not over. take a deep breath. start over.  ’ ‘  I’m gonna have a bomb ass life and I know it cause I’ve suffered so much and I know that wasn’t for no reason  ’ ‘  you ever just get in bed and ur like yep this is where i’m meant to be  ’ ‘  an unstoppable force (my love of books) meets an unmovable object (my lack of a desire to actually read anything)  ’ ‘  i just have this persistent feeling of “i’m not doing enough” combined with “i don’t have the energy to do anything” and it just really fucking sucks  ’ ‘  sorry I haven’t replied to ur texts I’ve been overwhelmed by literally anything that’s ever happened or will happen  ’ ‘  me when i see a wild animal in a metropolitan area: reclaim your space, we are the invaders, retake what is yours  ’ ‘  no offense but money would solve literally every single one of my problems. like all of them. i dont have a single problem that money wouldnt immediately solve  ’ ‘  i am not enough and it’s eating me alive  ’ ‘  what do u mean “what have i been up to” … i’m out here ruining my own life as always bitch  ’ ‘  always remember that love will always come back to u. in a different form, different person, different hobby, different touch. but in any way, love will always come back.  ’ ‘  The struggle between me wanting to be successful and me wanting to lay in bed 24/7  ’ ‘  If you play “Feeling Myself” by Nicki Minaj and Beyoncé at exactly 11:58:50 pm on New Year’s Eve, Beyoncé will say “World Stop” in 2017 and “Carry On” in 2018.  ’ ‘  Self care is putting absurd amounts of parmesan cheese on your pasta  ’ ‘  you ever just like “wow that’s my voice? people listen to this clown on a daily basis?”  ’ ‘  ravioli ravioli give me a reason to live  ’ ‘  finally worked up the courage to tell the starbucks girl she was beautiful and i only puked twice  ’ ‘  do i wanna know??? no. but thank u monkey friends  ’ ‘  hey this is kinda ns.fw but i wann h*ld your h*nd  ’ ‘  talent: overthinking  ’ ‘  have you ever had that feeling that you really wanna workout to get a flat stomach… but you also just wanna eat pizza and watch netflix.  ’ ‘  if you google eyebrows are you eyebrowsing  ’ ‘  *skips tutorial* how the fuck do you play this game  ’ ‘  Literally heard a convo at the library where a guy was telling a girl that he’s an omega and the girl telling him that she’s a beta, and my mind just did not automatically connect the context to fraternity pledge classes at all and I just whispered to myself “what the fuck?? What the fuck??”  ’ ‘  my hands? ready to be held  ’ ‘  Catch These Hands! with your hands. we’re holding hands now. this is nice  ’ ‘  kinda weird that u can think about someone as much as u want and they have no idea  ’ ‘  physically, yes, i could fight a bird. but emotionally? imagine the toll  ’ ‘  I would rather wander around a store for 9 hours than ask an employee where something is and this I do not understand  ’ ‘  my childhood, or, as i like to call it, the general abyss with one or two memories attached to it   ’ ‘  i know ‘gay’ isn’t an emotion but let’s be real,,,,,,,,,it kind of is and i feel it 24/7  ’ ‘  babe get ready for a night on the town, i just found an old Subway gift card and there’s still $9.45 left on it  ’ ‘  just because the past didn’t turn out like you wanted it to, doesn’t mean your future can’t be better than you ever imagined  ’ ‘  i’m the person who’s 100% down for spontaneous adventures but also 100% down to lay in bed all day. i’m on both ends of the spectrum  ’ ‘  this year has changed me more than I ever thought it would.   ’ ‘  it’s ok to disappear for a lil while and get your shit together.  ’ ‘  if you wanna love me hmu  ’ ‘  calling me baby makes me so freakin weak  ’ ‘  i’m that one guy on spongebob always screaming about his leg  ’ ‘  remember to drink a fucking shit ton of water every miserable day of ur life  ’ ‘  i just want someone who’s excited to make out with me and text me all the time.  ’ ‘  never apologize for your giant dogs getting overexcited, if i get taken down by a 100 pound mass of fluff then that’s how i go.  ’ ‘  when i figure out how to die without hurting my mom’s feelings it’s over for me, bitches  ’ ‘  THIS GUY JUST ASKED ME WHAT MY NAME WAS AND I DIDNT UNDERSTAND WHAT HE SAID SO I SAID 4:45  ’ ‘  my blood is glow stick juice. thats why all my bones crack when i move.  ’ ‘  are cute dates and rough sex too much to ask for  ’ ‘  honestly, my goal in life is just to be a very warm person. i want to be as loving and as kind as i can be.  ’ ‘  just a small dumb bitch…. living in a lonely ditch  ’ ‘  you’re not selfish for wanting to be treated well  ’ ‘  when y'all fake conversations in your heads do you sometimes say random sentences out loud too? i was just tying my shoes and said very sternly and loudly “i DO know how ants work, fucker”  ’ ‘  true space facts: if u look up there it is  ’ ‘  anyone else bummed they have 2 sleep alone tonight and uh not in some1s arms  ’ ‘  how am i sensitive and a bitch at the same time  ’

[synnematic]

DAY 3: Letters to A Loved One

for @saboace-week

TWO PARTS:

Letters to No One ( written by me ) multiple chapters

a03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955610/chapters/32125773

A Couple Years Too Late ( written by @reiji--san ) single chapter

a03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955889

Summary: 

A collection of letters written over time with no set destination, but always a person in mind.

Letters to No One

Dear Sabo,

This is stupid.

Makinos got this idea in her head that I’m sad. Which I’m not. Im not sad anymore at all. I’m not. Its just hard. Youre not  When you died FUCK. Whatever. fuck spelling and whatnot too. not like you can read this anymore anyway. look. this is suposed to help i guess. a coping mechi mechen method. i write this letter and she stops naging at me. whatever it takes to make them all stop loking at me like im going to snap any second or try to run off again. not like i would anyway.

i know youre not coming back.

you’re dead

you left and you died and theres nothin i can do to turn back time or bring you back or get revenge becus the people that killed you are already GONE and i didnt even know until it was already to late

but im fine

im fine

im not fine

luffy is well hes been better but hes always been a crybaby so he’ll get better. im supposed to be strong now, stronger but i dont really  i don’t know how to handle the emotions and whatnot. not like you did. you always seemed to just GET it always sayin the right things, calmin me us him down. i can’t do that but im trying. im getting better i think.

we’ll get thrugh it

fuck this is stupid

what’s the point in writing a letter youl never read? or writing at all damn it

you taght me how to do this bulshit but i never thought id have to use it like this

fuck im not supposed to cry. messed up the ink now. not that it matters but still i wanted to fuck i dont know what i wanted anymore

sorry

im sorry sabo. i should have been i dunno. something. its different without you. too quiet and theres this pain in my chest all the time. like i’m the one that got shot. don’t get it but i hate it and it hurts and i just i wish you were here. i really wish you were here

i miss you

    ace

sabo,

hey i uhh found the other letter. never ended up giving it to makino but i think she knew i wrote it at least. luffy did but i don’t know what he did with his. i kept mine in the tree house, under one of the loose boards. its a little water damaged but i don’t think you really care huh?

this is still weird, talking to you like this. even though its not really a talk if its only one way. just like talking to an empty room but not even talking out loud

sorry

its been two years now to the day. maybe thats why i ended up finding the old letter in the first place. havent really been to the tree house much since then anyway because

well you know

went to the cliff tho. the one we used to sit at? i went there first yknow when i got youre letter. took me a while since im still not great at reading. getting better tho. it was quiet. always kinda is but really quiet this time with just a little wind. I think it would be a good day to go sailing. was it like this when you left too? dogma said it was a nice day but i dont really remember it that way.

i dont know why i do this to myself. same as last time i always get   i dunno. my chest still hurts. theres a doctor in foosha i went to once a while ago. thought maybe something was wrong with me. he said it was heart break. youd think this is something id get over but i guess not

youre still dead and im still breaking

i dont know when its gonna stop

if it does at all

    ace

sabo,

Is it nice where you are?

Overheard some people talking about it today. Talking about death and what comes after. It sounds nice. Heaven. If thats where you went. I think it should be. Where you went, that is, but nice too I guess.

It sounds warm.

I wonder sometimes if my mom went there too. Still dont really know much about her but she sounded nice. Maybe youve met? Is my d   Nah it doesn’t matter. I hope its nice there. I dont really beleive in that kinda stuff normaly, still kinda dont but i hope its true and youre happy there. Happier than you were here

I know its probably a stupid thing to ask but do you think ill ever be able to join you there?

The waves were choppy at the cliff today. Almost angry. Theres a storm comin but i think ill still go there later. Maybe

Ive been thinking about death a lot lately

    ace

Hey

I didn’t jump, obviously, since i’m writing to you now. Again. Sorry for the silence. Sometimes I just— I dont know. Everything rushes to my head all at once. It helps, occasionally, but then there are the times where my head fills with one singular drive or emotion and thats it, that’s all I can focus on. It used to be anger. So much anger. That was easier than the sadness though. Or the guilt.

There’s things I haven’t really told you. A lot of things actually. I was trying to be strong I guess. Still am. But Makino was right about one thing. It does help, these letters. I like to think sometimes that you just know. That you can read them or that my words somehow magically transfer to you. Wherever you are. But I know that kinda stuff doesnt happen. Not really. So this is more me talking to myself then. That I can do.

So for starters I guess, I had a dream about you last night. I used to have dreams about you a lot. Nightmares too. It’s been a while though, at least a few months since the last one. Normally the dreams are the same, extended memories or something small but usually just the two of us, sometimes luffy. Last night you turned to me in my dream but your face wasn’t right. And I think that’s more terrifying than any of the nightmares i’ve had.

I’m starting to forget what you look like, what you sound like.

It’s been six years now. Longer than the time I knew you. All I have left is the flag Luffy and I found in the wreckage of your ship. I tried to look for more but most of it’s been buried now and i’m afraid. I don’t know what Id do if I found your bones there.

We never took any pictures, never saved enough for something as meaningless as a camera and i regret that now.

I think i’m going to get a tattoo soon. Before I leave the island. Even if I forget what you look like and the sound of your laugh I still want to take you with me somehow. So you can sail the seas instead of — well.

I just don’t want to forget you sabo

    Ace

Me again,

I got that tattoo that I said I would in my last letter. It’s been a while now but it still itches every once in a while. Hah, you should have seen the guys face when I explained what I wanted done. People still keep mistaking it for a mispelling. As if I didn’t know how to spell my own name.

Anyway, got that done a little before I left Dawn and a lot has happened since then. I have my own crew! And a devil fruit too, though man was that a surprise. Still don’t really have the best of control over it and I set random things on fire sometimes but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. I’m a CAPTAIN now! Got my own flag and everything. We’re the Spade pirates. Isn’t that cool? The Ace of Spades is supposed to be a card that symbolizes death but I don’t think we’re so bad. Hell, we’ve actually helped a lot of people so I hope you’re proud of me. Still wish you could have been my navigator but we probably would have ended up fighting all the time huh? Can’t have two people that want to be captain in the same crew obviously. You would have loved this life though.

I know you’re probably in a pretty nice place yourself right now but the open sea on a clear day is the most beautiful thing. And the STARS Sabo — when the sun sets down low you don’t even need the moon to see, the stars are so bright. Brighter than they ever were on the island.

You’re up there somewhere huh?

Is the view better than the one I’ve got right now?

Seven years is a long time my friend. I’ve grown a lot since I last saw you. Do you grow at all where you are? I bet I’d still be taller than you.

Wish you were here

    Ace

Hey Sabo

I think I need some advice right about now.

It’s been 103 days since Whitebeard defeated me and took me onto his flagship. Yeah, uhh, probably should have updated you on that sooner, huh? My bad. My crew was defeated not that long after I was too. We’re all here now but we’re fine I promise. Actually, that’s kinda my problem.

I want No, I wanted to kill him at first. Whitebeard. All this time hearing about my dad and all he accomplished in life, all he did. So many people that respected or hated him and I just — I don’t know. I heard that Whitebeard was around and I figured if I could just be the one to take him down, the one to kill him even when Roger couldn’t then maybe — Maybe I could prove myself. Prove that I’m stronger than him, than Roger. That I’m better somehow. Or at least different.

Not that that really worked out.

Could have killed me but instead he took me here and made this stupid speech about family and trust and wanting me to be his son or something and I told him no. Obviously. I don’t need a family after all, or at least more family. I’ve got Luffy. And you. Plus I wasn’t  I’m not about to just throw away my own ambitions yknow? I promised you, I PROMISED you that we’d go out to sea and live free lives, the life of pirates. I don’t want that to end, not when I wanted to take you with me on that journey, the life you never got to live.

So I kept fighting and fighting and fighting over and over again, new tactics, new plans. But Sabo I’m so tired now.

So tired.

And they’re really starting to grow on me. As much as I’ve tried to avoid the crew or even piss them off. There’s this one guy, Thatch, in particular that is just too god damn nice ALL THE TIME. And Marco too though he’s kinda stuck up. And they keep talking about family. About belonging and — I don’t know.

Is it bad that a part of me wants that? To have an actual home? To belong?

They don’t know though, not yet at least. They don’t know who I am and maybe — FUCK I don’t know. I don’t know how they’d react to knowing who I am, what I am. I’m scared to find out. But is it worth trying?

Would you hate me if I gave up a part of my freedom for something more?

I feel like I’m betraying you somehow. But at the same time I think you would want me to be happy too.

I don’t know yet for sure but maybe, maybe this is my one chance.

    Ace

He KILLED him.

One of the few genuine friends I have and he’s dead. All because of GREED. Why does this keep happening. Every time I grow attached and start to feel safe something like this happens again just to prove how messed up the world really is. Over a stupid FRUIT and now thatch is dead and— fuck. A member of my own division too. My responsibility and I failed again. Just like I failed you.

I can’t protect ANYONE. Even after all the training and the fighting, the missions and responsibilities. But when it actually matters I’m not even there and my friend gets stabbed in the back and left to DIE.

The blood’s on my hands. I should have known. Should have picked up on the signs and done something — anything . But I was too late. Again. And now he’s gone and that TRAITOR is who knows where.

Well not this time.

This isn’t going to be like what happened with you, with an enemy I never knew and had no chance of finding.

This time I’m going to find him and I’m going to make him pay.

I don’t care if I’m cursed. Maybe I brought this on them in the first place, just by being here. But I’m not going to just sit by and let this happen again. I couldn’t take revenge for you but I can for Thatch.

I can at least do that.

Sabo,

I’m getting close.

I know you probably don’t care, but writing to you like this is the only thing that seems to be keeping me sane recently. It’s like I’m chasing a damn shadow. Every time I get close or feel like I’ve finally caught up the bastard does something to out maneuver me or fuck me up somehow. It’s been months now but this time I think I’ve finally cornered him. Teach is apparently on his way to Water 7 now and there’s a little island, Banaro, that he’s sure to stop at. If I can get there before he leaves then I can finally avenge Thatch. I can make up for my own failures and make sure that he never hurts anyone from my family again.

I dunno how it’s going to go yet but he hasn’t had much time to master his new fruit yet so I should have the upper hand regardless of whatever that rat has planned.

Short letter this time, I know, but I don’t really have a lotta time to waste right now. I’ll be reaching port soon and from there — well, who knows. Guess I’ll probably update you again afterwards though, or whenever I get back to the rest of my crew.

It’s nice to know that I’ll finally be able to avenge someone important to me. Risky, but I know you’d do the same.

    Ace

Sabo,

I’m being executed today.

Guess that’s a solid way to start off my last  this letter, huh? Yeah, nice going Ace, well done. I really know how to keep things upbeat in these damn things don’t I?

Damn it.

Teach, well he, FUCK— sorry.

I don’t want to do this.

He beat me. I don’t have any excuses, nothin I can say to make up for what happened or explain it in anyway. He just did. Just another reason to hate him I guess, but if the alternative was joining him then this is better. Much better, Still, uhh, it hasn’t exactly been fun. Impel Down was just about as bad as I expected, maybe worse even. There’s— you know what, it doesn’t matter what it was like. You don’t need to know that.

Maybe I’m just stalling now.

They don’t really give a lot of time for these things apparently, even when they’re last requests. Bullshit, but I think they just don’t want me to be late for my closeup. Gol D. Roger’s only son means I’m about to broadcasted all around the world. Thanks dad. Great perks. Though, I expected as much. Just proving what I always feared.

ANYWAY, at least I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. Don’t actually know how long I was locked up in there but the silence does things to people, to me. I didn’t dream much while I was there, kinda hard to sleep, but I thought about you a lot. Actually, been thinkin about you a lot for a while but this was different I suppose.

The guys down there like to talk a lot. It helps pass the time but most of them are kinda shit people so I didn’t reply much. Still listened though.

Y’know, in twenty years, I’ve done a lot, seen a lot, experienced a lot— more than most my age, but there’s a lot I didn’t get to do too, didn’t learn about.

I never really thought about love until recently. It’s not really a pirate thing, huh? High seas and all that nonsense but life moves fast and a lot happens all at once. Not a lotta time to sit around and, I dunno, dream?

Whatever. Well, the guys down there talked a surprising amount about it, like it’s something magical, better than any other treasure, and it got me thinkin. I’ve never really cared about that stuff, haven’t since I was a kid. But I guess that’s because I figured no one would be able to stand me for long, no one would actually accept me for who I am. But, that’s not really right, huh? Since you did that right from the start. I’ve known that for ages but guess it didn’t really sink in until now.

Call it childish innocence or whatever, but you accepted me even back then when I was broody and angry and maybe a little murderous. You knew who I was, my history, my dreams, and you didn’t laugh or run away or anything like that. You smiled that stupid smile of yours and just accepted me, all of me.

Here I am about to— about to leave , and it’s because there’s a whole fucking WORLD out there that can’t seem to do the same thing a five year old noble brat could — no offense.

And y’know, if that’s the closest I get to love then I’ll take it. Hell, maybe I even love you too. Actually, no. I don’t think maybe is even a factor anymore. Seems stupid now that I think about it, but I probably loved you even back then. From the very start. Little late to be figuring that out now, huh?

They’re rushing me. Marine bastards.

I know I’ve talked a lot about, well, death. So many years spent just thinkin that I deserve it, just because of who my father was, but now that there’s this whole messed up world agreeing with me, is it wrong that I’m— fuck — I’m scared Sabo. Absolutely terrified and there’s nothing I can do about it. All these years I’ve practically asked for it and now—

I know it’s late to start saying this, way too late now, but Sabo, I want to live.

I want to do so much with my life than this. I want to explore more, see more. I want— I want what I can’t have anymore. And it sucks. It really fucking sucks, but this is how it ends for me. Goin out the same way my shitty pops did. Apparently. What a sick joke this all is.

But I'm running out of time now. Guess I’ve spent what time I had. Garp knows what to do with this after... after everything. I know it won't matter in the end, but I think all of these should be together, y'know? Just in case. It's nice to know that he still considered me family, even now. He's the only one here that seems to actually care. You would think these assholes would cut me a little slack now that we’re here but I just… I don’t think it matters to them that I'm about to die. Not even a little bit. Shouldn’t hurt, but it does. I’m still human after all. Just like them. But maybe they don’t see it like that.

I’d pray for miracles but I don’t think there are any gods out there to help me. I still don’t think there are any gods at all. Doesn't really bode well for what comes after, huh?

Luffy’s going to be mad at me. I promised him that I wouldn’t die.

Maybe we can both watch over him though? You’ll probably be mad at me for saying this but a part of me is a little relieved. At the end. At least I’ll get to see you again, right? I don’t even know if we’ll both end up in the same place, but I can hope. I really, really hope. It’s selfish but I’m glad that I won’t be alone. I don’t want to be alone anymore.

    Ace

A Couple Years Too Late

Dear Ace,

         It’s been a while, has it not? I’m sorry, but man do I have some things to tell you.

If only I could tell you.

I got your letters. Well, more like I found your letters. Stored away in a box at our old tree house. Can you believe it’s still intact after all these years? Pretty good for a couple of kids huh?

.

.

.

Dear Ace,

         I’m sorry. I can’t believe I stopped so soon. Not even a couple sentences in and I had to leave the room. What an idiot. Let me start again.

Hey Ace. How are you? Are you eating well? Getting enough rest? You have to make sure to take care of yourself, I’m not there to nag at you anymore now. You’re all grown up. I sound like such a parent I’m sorry. I just care and want the best for you. I got your letters. I’m sorry the delivery took so long. Way too long. It’s a shame this is how we reunite. I hoped I could have seen you at least once before

.

.

.

Dear Ace,

          I did it again. At this rate I’ll clean out Headquarter’s paper supply. I’m sorry. It’s just, every time I write, my vision gets blurry and I can’t see anymore. How can I properly reply to you if I don’t know what I’m writing? Would be embarrassing if I had a bunch of spelling mistakes especially since I’m the one that taught you how to write.

Speaking of which, you’ve gotten a lot better! I can see from the different letters you wrote. It makes me happy to see that, shows you practiced a lot. Did you help Luffy too? I only taught him so much before I left, I’m sorry. It must’ve been hard on you.

It must have been really hard on you…

I’m sorry. I keep speaking nonsense. I just don’t know where to begin, what to say. This is the third time I’m trying to write to you and you are right—it’s pretty stupid. Maybe a part of me is just hoping that the same thing will happen with you. That you’ll get this letter in 10 years or so and then maybe we could meet again, somewhere in this wide ocean.

Or maybe somewhere in skies up above.

I can dream, right?

.

.

.

Hey Ace, Is this how you felt? When you wrote every one of those letters, did it hurt this badly each time? I’m sorry, I should’ve come to get them sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t even be writing this right now if I had. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to write them if I had come sooner. I��m sorry. I really made it hard for you huh? I’m happy you wrote though. It feels as if you are here, talking to me. Telling me of your struggles, your adventures. All the good and the bad—even though I already knew some of this. I’m happy for you Ace. Truly I am. I wish I could’ve been there when you sailed out to sea, we could’ve sailed out together. Met your first crew, that I wouldn’t be a part of because I would have had a better crew.

When you found a family .

I’ll have to visit them one day, and properly thank them. It’s the least I can do.

Hey, remember the declarations we made back at the cliff? I still haven’t done mine, been busy, it’ll probably take a while. Still, you did yours did you not? You let the whole world know who you were. Fire Fist Ace, that’s a pretty cool name they gave you. You were always the better big brother so I’m not surprised you beat me to it. Mine’s a little bit harder so cut me some slack okay?

Weird how the past couple days I struggled to write and now it’s all just pouring out, I’m sorry it’s such a mess of words. I still don’t know what to really say. My vision is still blurry but I’m fighting through it. I’m sorry the paper may be a little wet.

…I’m sorry.

Twelve times. Twelve times I’ve said those two words but nothing changes, nothing will change. I’ve come to that conclusion. Took me a while.

A long while.

It’s been two years or so since you left. Every night I have the same dream. And every time you’re always out of reach. Every single night I wonder “Would things have been different if I was there?” People kept telling me there’s no right answer to that.

Would you be alive right now if I had remembered just a little sooner?

Ah that’s right. I haven’t told you. I didn’t think it would matter if you knew since it wouldn't change anything, I’m sorry. Thirteen. I lost my memories. Pretty shitty thing for me to do right? I know. While you were suffering I didn’t even know you were a part of my life. While you died, I paid no mind because I didn’t know. You must be really mad at me. For forgetting so easily.

And then life rewards me my memories when I see your death mention in the papers. That’s pretty fucked up huh? Maybe I should’ve looked at the papers sooner.

Hey Ace, do you know now? Is it pretty up there where you are? Have you met your mom? She’s up there too right? I’m sure she is. If there is a Heaven I know you’re there. Regardless of what people say, what they may have called you, Heaven is where you belong. The image of an angel truly suits you, you know. Maybe you always were an angel, and god sent you down to me. Can I let you in on a little secret? Thanks to you, I was able to become who I am today. If I hadn’t met you that day you pulled me out of the Grey Terminal I probably would’ve been back in that castle, suffering. You changed my life for the better and I’m eternally grateful. And seeing as you brought it up first; I love you too. Always did. Even during my amnesiac years, I’m sure that part of me was still there. Loving you even if it didn’t remember you. Sad that we’re sharing such things now huh? It’s almost laughable. Yet not even a smile comes to my face right now… What am I saying? I’m sorry, I ramble a lot.

Fourteen.

It’s been almost two years since then Ace and the pain just gets worse. Does it ever go away? Did it ever go away for you? It’s like a nail is constantly being hammered into my chest. Some days they slam the hammer harder than others. Some days they slam it so hard I can barely breathe… I can cover it up better than before at least, can function in my daily life. Oh yeah—I’m a Revolutionary, have I told you that yet?

Do you think if this world was different, you would still be alive? I wonder.

Are these letters really supposed to help? The only thing it’s helping with is making the pain worse. Will you even read this? Maybe if I send it flying high enough, will it reach you? Or maybe you're watching me right now as I write it? If you are then well…

I miss you.

God I miss you so much.

It’s not fair. Why did you have to be the one to leave? My first friend, best friend, my partner, my brother, my… There are so many things I want to share with you. I want to see you again. See you smiling, laughing, angry��I just want to see you. Even if it’s just one more time.

Would it have been better if I had died that day? Would I be with you right now? I’ve had that thought so many times. And maybe I tried to join you…so many times.

But I’ve thought a lot. Luffy is still out there is he not? I can’t just leave our little brother like that. I’ve already fucked up enough as it is. Even if he hates me, pushes me away and never wants to see me again—I’ll protect him. I asked you to take care of him before, now it’s my turn.

By the way, I’ll be visiting you soon—no, not like that. Sadly. I’ve avoided doing it for a while because I didn’t want to believe it but I think it’s time now.

I’m sorry…that I can’t be with you, not yet. But you aren’t alone. I may not be next to you, but I’m always thinking of you. Every waking moment and every time I close my eyes. You’re there.

Fifteen.

We’ll meet again soon. There are just some things I have to take care of here first. It may sound a little selfish but please wait for me okay? Just a little longer.

         Sabo