#sorry im just really obsessed with this fic

[gyubakeries]

i am in neeedddd of some fluffy scoups fics, could you please write something about cheol🥹

𝘀𝗽𝗮-𝗱𝗮𝘆 | c.sc

a/n: hi anon! sorry it took so long to get to this request 😭 writing all this made me want to have a spa-day, but i'm way too busy for one right now oof. thank you for requesting, and i hope you like it!

word count: 1.6k contents: seungcheol x afab!reader , established relationship , reader is tired , tiiiiny bit of angst BUT ITS SUPER FLUFFY , cheol is the best bf , self-care , domestic fluff , cheol is a girl's girl and we love him for it <3 , love next door is mentioned bcs im currently watching it :P

cheolz 💗 (19:59 p.m.) :

hi baby <3

when will u be reaching home 2night?

you (20:08 p.m.) :

outside front door rn

can u plz open up

read (20:08 p.m.)

—

the door swings open, and seungcheol's worried eyes take in your current condition. your work bag, slung from your shoulder, is weighing you down, making you slump forward. your eyes are red and watery. your skin looks pale, and you let out a sigh that makes seungcheol's heart ache.

"bad day?" seungcheol asks, and you nod weakly, left with no energy to even give him a verbal answer.

"c'mere love," he frowns, opening up his arms. you fall into his embrace, all the tension in your muscles melting away the second seungcheol tightly wraps you up in his arms. the feeling of being comforted feels so overwhelming that you can't help but let a few tears escape.

"i feel like shit," you mumble, your voice hoarse from crying in the car while you drove home from work. "i've failed at everything."

"i don't want to hear any of that," seungcheol shakes his head, holding you closer. "let me make you feel better, okay?"

you sigh again, pulling back slightly to look at your boyfriend. "i'm not in the mood for sex now, cheol."

"silly baby," seungcheol laughs, brushing his nose against yours. "i didn't mean sex. i thought i could help you unwind with your very own, made-at-home, spa-day!"

your eyes well with tears at how thoughtful your boyfriend is. seungcheol is quick to wipe the tears away, playfully scolding you. "no more crying. let's take the weekend to reset and start the next week afresh, hm? come on, i've got a lot planned."

your boyfriend slides your work bag off your shoulder and guides you into the apartment. he sets the bag down on the kitchen counter and comes back to kneel in front of you, helping you take off your heels. you sigh when your feet fall flat on the ground, tired from having to wear high heels the entire day.

"better?" seungcheol smiles, looking up at you, and you nod, feeling a little bit of energy seep back into you just by looking into seungcheol's eyes.

"good," your boyfriend says, getting up from the floor. "i've got to go check on the bath, so why don't you pick out some comfy clothes to wear, and then we can proceed?"

"okay, cheol," you agree, pressing a peck to his lips. his face lights up and he goes to the bathroom with a skip in his step. the exhaustion you had felt earlier was slowly getting replaced with the calming and healing presence of seungcheol.

your boyfriend really knew how to make you feel better.

—

you lay out your clothes on the bed. after a lot of thinking, you went with a hoodie (seungcheol's hoodie from college) and some baggy sweatpants. just as you were contemplating flopping onto the bed, a gentle touch on your shoulder makes you turn around.

"hey, your bubble bath is ready," seungcheol informs, and you realize that the entire spa-day idea was actually planned out well in advance.

"did you put in-"

"your favorite salted caramel-scented bath bomb? of course, baby. did you think i was a monster?" seungcheol gasps dramatically, making you laugh and hit his arm weakly.

"alright, i get it, you're obsessed with me," you roll your eyes, but you let seungcheol shrug off your blazer, unbuckle your belt and take off all your jewelry.

"yes, i am," seungcheol agrees, the genuinity in his voice knocking the air out of your lungs. you'd been dating him for seven years, ever since freshman year in college, yet sometimes his sincere love for you still surprised you.

the end of his lips tug into a smile at your silence, and he puts your jewelry away on your dressing table. "let's head into the bathroom," he instructs, and you follow him.

seungcheol stands in one corner of the bathroom, watching you as you take your clothes off and dump them in the laundry hamper. there isn't any heat behind his gaze, just the need to make sure you're taken care of.

"you gonna join?" you ask him, tugging your hair free from the bun you had put it in.

"i already showered earlier," he shakes his head. "i will be here though, to help with anything else you want."

"thank you," you smile shyly, getting into the filled bathtub slowly to make sure it doesn't overflow. the water was the perfect temperature, not too hot but not lukewarm either; just the perfect heat to make your body relax after a long day.

the scent of your favorite bath bomb envelops you, and lean back against the edge of the tub and close your eyes, letting out a content sigh.

after a few minutes of silence, seungcheol speaks up gently, now sitting cross-legged next to the tub. "did you wanna wash your hair?"

you blearily blink your eyes open, nodding. just as you're about to reach out for the shampoo bottle, seungcheol beats you to it.

"relax, let me do it for you."

you lean back again and watch seungcheol take some of the product on his palm and then kneel next to you. he lathers up the shampoo and then works it into your hair.

his touch is soft, yet firm. he massages your scalp with the shampoo, and as if taken away magically, the headache you had earlier vanishes. your eyes drop shut as seungcheol washes your hair.

you're sure you dozed off in the bath for a while, because you don't remember him rinsing the shampoo out, gently scrubbing your body clean, or drying you off with your towel.

you only wake up when he nudges you awake. "skincare time, baby."

you offer him a sleepy smile and a kiss to his cheek. you were dedicated to following your skincare routine daily, and you were glad that your boyfriend also gave it the same priority.

seungcheol gets you the clothes you put on the bed and you slip into them, the soft fabric of the hoodie engulfing you in warmth. you wrap your wet hair up in a towel and get to your skincare.

seungcheol stands beside you, a hand on your hip rubbing circles into the skin as he watches you apply various products on your face. you've explained all the various steps in your routine many times to him, but he can't keep a track of which is the toner, which is the serum and which is the cream.

once you were finally done, seungcheol walks you out of the bathroom with his hands on your shoulders.

"for dinner i got you take-out from your favorite chinese place," seungcheol says, seating you down at the dining table. "i haven't perfected my cooking skills yet."

"this is more than enough, cheol," you laugh, watching as he makes himself busy with warming up the food and bringing it to the table. "this is perfect."

"anything for my sweet girl," seungcheol winks flirtatiously, setting down a plate in front of you. "eat up, you need your energy. or else you're gonna be waking up like a hungry zombie tomorrow."

pretending to be offended at his words, you lightly kick his foot under the table. he responds by holding your free hand in his above the table as you both eat dinner in comfortable silence.

you're glad he doesn't ask you about work or what caused you to be this dejected earlier, because you frankly didn't have the energy to deal with all the emotions you felt earlier. knowing seungcheol, he'd probably whine and pout till you opened up to him later, so you put the sad thoughts away and focus on the moment.

—

you thought the night would wrap up with the meal. you felt far more happy than how you felt when you came home earlier, all thanks to seungcheol's efforts, but apparently, dinner wasn't the end.

after dinner, seungcheol loads the dishes in the washer, and then picks you up to take you to the bedroom. he props you up against the pillows and drapes the comforter over you.

"the new episode of love next door is up, you wanna watch?" seungcheol asks, grabbing the TV remote and getting under the covers next to you. the one thing you loved about your home with seungcheol was the TV in the bedroom, for the days either of you couldn't be bothered to go out to use the one in the living room.

"yeah, i need to know what happens next," you nod, a smile breaking across your face. seungcheol gives you a dimpled smile of his own and puts on the new episode of the series you both were heavily invested in.

as the intro started playing, you snuggle closer to seungcheol. as if on instinct, he outstretches his arm for you to use as a pillow, and you wrap your arm around his waist. your legs tangle together and you rest your head on his chest, breathing in his cologne.

"thank you so much, cheol," you murmur against his chest. "you helped me a lot today. if you weren't there-"

"we don't need to think about that," seungcheol shushes you. "no matter what, i'd always be there for you. which is also why you don't need to thank me. i do it because i love you."

"i love you too," you reply, looking up at him. you're met with his loving gaze; the gaze that heals you from the inside out, easing all your worries and filling you with hopes for a better tomorrow.

a tomorrow with seungcheol by your side.

you lean in to kiss him sweetly, and he complies easily, holding you impossibly closer to him. just as you break away, a character on screen starts yelling, startling the both of you and making you burst into laughter.

the long, weary day finally ends with you safe and secure in seungcheol's arms.

you wouldn't have it any way else.

- fin.

taglist: @tychebaby @min-imum @sousydive @livelaughloveseventeen

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[dragonsbone]

just wanna ramble a little bit.

the themes and parallels in my fic, a dance of lions, has me in absolute shambles. i keep expanding on my ideas ( with the amazing help from my friends ), and it keeps making this story better and better. honestly, i feel like this is some of my best work in regards to plotting and connecting details to make everything seem cohesive. but what i really love about this story is how many different characters foil each other. how they follow similar yet wildly different paths, yet end up with a satisfying outcome that makes the most sense to each character and their individual storyline. because even though this story is surrounded by the constant theme of betrayal, it is also heavily intertwined with revenge, justice, and love. and that’s what a lot of these characters deserve. 

i really hope to write this story one day so i could share all my ideas and spoilers with all of you !!  

[fallenseaofstars]

Argenti headcanons

🌹 Tags: Afab g/n reader, Smut/Fluff, established relationship, obsessive Argenti once again 😍, size difference kink, belly bulge, creampie, idk what else to tag 💔

🌹 A/N: sorry I tried making him as accurate to canon but he's a bit of a freak in my eyes (not in the kinky way but in the questionable way)

Argenti is a gentleman, he loves to be sensual and treat you like royalty, so naturally the aftercare is top notch! No matter how tired he is (unlikely that he's tired to begin with) he'll always make sure to clean you well, get the bed ready and pepper you with many many kisses <3 He will never leave until you're fully taken care of

Raging size difference kink. He can't quite pinpoint why exactly he's so into it but all he knows is that he can't help himself when he sees just how much smaller you are to him- believe me he has had to learn a new level of self control around you...

He's really big and absolutely loves seeing you take all him, has accidentally overstimulated you before but can you blame him? The way your pussy takes all of his cock and how his cum drips down you ... one round is not enough to please him.

Belly bulge is almost a guarantee everytime he fucks you and yes, it makes him very hard seeing how deep he fucks you

Pleasure dom but can also be sub. He absolutely loves spoiling you no matter how greedy you get, but he also enjoys being spoiled! He won't outwardly admit this however so make sure every once in a while you take good care of him, he deserves it~ ❤️

Worships you like a god(dess) regardless if he's top or bottom, it's almost embarrassing hearing his over the top compliments but he means every word! He loves spending a while just kissing your entire body, his kisses are so soft and full of love, and they linger in the areas that you're most self conscious about! To him, everything about you is beautiful, no matter what you think of yourself!

Loves it when you take the lead, he'll do whatever you ask of him like an obedient little puppy~ just kiss him a few more times and he's already head over heels for you! (Not that he already isn't though) When you ride him and threat him like a whore he cums even faster than usual. He can't decide if he prefers when you're gentle and loving or when you're mean and harsh.

Big praise kink, even when you're mean to him you should still praise him~

Into bondage as well, loves it no matter who's the one tied up! When you're the one tied up he loves to blindfold you as well and whisper to you everything that he will/is doing to you. He's very comforting when you're blindfolded but you can feel his voice go deeper than usual which makes you all the more hot for him

Now when you tie him up...he becomes a complete mess. He whines and moans, his body shaking so much that you almost feel bad for not letting him touch you, but that's just part of the fun, no? Again, cums a lot faster in this state

He cums a lot- and quickly too. You're lucky he has so much stamina since he cums way before you even come close. After you're both done the bed/wherever you fucked is very very messy- makes him a bit embarrassed but also loves seeing it as a way of claiming you as his own~

Also has a breeding kink, even if you can't have kids hes simply just obsessed with the idea of filling you up and having so many kids with you~

CW: Dub-con and cnc (roleplay kidnapping)

Overall he's very loving, no matter how you want him to fuck you he'll do it and praise you so much while doing so! You're his beloved little rose and he absolutely loves everything about you! ❤️

Although you're his priority and he wants to make sure you enjoy every second of it, he's still quite...obsessive over you- which can lead to him forgetting that this is reality and will fuck the living light out of you to the point that it's just painful- at some point he'll make sure you're okay but he's quick to go back and fucking you dumb

He's a bit addicted to roleplaying as if he kidnapped you, tying you to his bed and just fucking your pretty face drives him insane <3 You spend a lot of time before hand making clear each other's boundaries, and even while roleplaying he can't help but ask if your ok and compliments you so much

[sidneycarter]

love the idea that post The Situation thomas is just increasingly obtuse when it comes to jimmy's feelings.

so when one day mrs hughes mentions in passing at how much easier it is to handle james now he's settled down, thomas is incredibly confused. and a little bit heartbroken too of course.

it gets even stranger when on valentine's day alfred sulkily asks jimmy how many cards he's sent that year and jimmy merely shrugs and smirks. mrs patmore chastises them for gossiping and announces that surely, jimmy's only got one to be sending.

then one night, most of the staff are enjoying a rare night off in the pub. as usual, a host of pretty girls surround jimmy, and one particularly brave one asks jimmy if he's got any plans on one of his half days. jimmy throws her a cheeky wink and says "sorry, darling, but i'm spoken for."

thomas starts feeling really rather hurt. he's known all along that this would happen eventually - that jimmy would eventually move on and find a nice village lass, but it still stings to hear it. somehow, it hurts even more knowing that clearly jimmy has fallen for someone but he hasn't even told thomas.

thomas puts on a brave face and elbows daisy in the side. "d'ya hear that? jimmy's kept that quiet 'asn't he?"

daisy looks at him with a frown and cocks her head to the side. "well, not really--" but before she can say anything else she's swept up into the rowdy conversation of the table.

a few weeks later, thomas and jimmy are alone in the servants hall, with thomas reading the paper in his rocking chair and jimmy tapping out melodies on the piano. the tune he's playing is sweet and gentle, and thomas finds himself swaying his head along. as the song draws to a close, a gentle round of applause sounds from the doorway.

baxter stands smiling. "let me call you sweetheart is one of my favourites. it was beautiful, jimmy."

jimmy blushes prettily and stands, closing the piano lid. "thank you, mrs baxter. good night."

after he's gone from the room, baxter enters to fill herself a glass of water. she smiles fondly at thomas. "he's so smitten you know. head over heels." she rolls her eyes affectionately.

it takes months until thomas finally figures out the truth of what's going on. well, to say he figures it out is somewhat generous.

he's in the servants hall again, this time feeling a little despondent with a cup of tea. jimmy had gone to the pictures with alfred of all people, their friendship seemingly improved since jimmy's given up on chasing ivy's skirt. thomas is resolutely not waiting up to make sure jimmy gets home safe. anna is the only other person still up, and she sits opposite thomas stitching one of lady mary's hemlines in companionable silence.

thomas dwells on his own thoughts for a while, until anna rests her sewing on the table and fixes him with a worried look. "are you quite alright, mr barrow?"

"hm? oh, yes anna, i'm very well thank you." he takes a sip of his tea to hide his moue.

anna looks unconvinced. "thomas," she says seriously, "is it-- have you and jimmy had a falling out?"

that genuinely surprises thomas. for all his worry and sadness over jimmy's as yet unknown love interest, they'd never fallen out. "no, no, of course not. he's just busy, that's all, which is to be expected now he's, you know," thomas waves his cup vaguely in the air, "courting the mystery lady."

anna chokes on a laugh. "the mystery lady?"

"yes. he's-- he's courting someone, isn't he? everyone keeps saying that he's... or suggesting that he's taken with someone." Thomas adds somewhat bitterly, "seems quite serious if you ask me. not that he's told me anything about it of course."

anna stops giggling and looks at him oddly. "thomas you-- you can't mean--"

"-- do you know who she is, anna?" thomas interrupts a little desperately. he's becoming tired of it all and he just wants to know-- how bad it is, for how long he's going to have to tend to his broken heart.

"thomas. thomas, jimmy's sweetheart is-- well, it's you."

"me?" thomas has a brief, sickening memory of his feelings before, and how miss o'brien toyed with them so badly. but he knows in his gut, that anna would never, and could never do that. he knows she's being honest, as confusing and terrifying as the statement may be.

"yes." anna smiles. "he's like a little puppy when he's with you. surely you've noticed? he gazes at you with stars in his eyes. he wants to do everything you do, and it seems like every other conversation is all about what you've been telling him this week. he only ever plays love songs on the piano when you're in the room. he laughs at all your jokes and he's not even glanced in the direction of a girl since last year." anna shakes her head. "i thought you knew and were just letting him get used to it."

"no i didn't -- i didn't know, i thought," thomas can feel himself blushing, "i don't know what i thought."

anna stands with a stifled yawn. "you make each other very happy. if you really didn't know, i think you ought to talk to him. good night, mr barrow."

"good night anna. and thank you."

thomas is left in the still and quiet of the room, watching the steam spiral up from his cup. a private and hopeful smile spreads across his face. yes, he thinks, nodding his head, perhaps we should talk.

[dykedvonte]

no I understand, tbh I kinda wish that’s how my special interests work but no they just are Always There even if there’s no active content,,, and I appreciate you saying you won’t abandon it, it’s genuinely kinda upsetting whenever authors do just quit a story without finishing it or at least explaining where they wanted it to go (like don’t get me wrong I understand losing interest but imo if you’ve gotten people invested u kinda owe it to em to give closure)

You had me till the end where I need to remind you I don’t owe anyone anything??? No matter how invested you get I don’t charge for any thing I put on the internet cause I write mostly gay fanfiction for copyrighted properties and do this because it’s fun and I want to share. CDAP if far from my first fic or au to get attention and I am aware of the people who want it to continue. I’ve been in and likely will be in the same boat again but never have I ever had the audacity to think the author or artist owes me more of their work just because I was invested.

I have and will delete fics I’ve written at a moments notice for reason more petty than i just felt like it. I make the habit of keeping up or reposting old work just to track my growth, fandom trends and as a curtesy to those who may want to go back and read it. I have literally thought of deleting it for asks just like this because it’s extremely upsetting to me to have people try to compliment sandwich me with “I love your fic and understand the burnout/lack of interest… but I want to read more so like get over it it’s not fair :/“ CONSTANTLY. Like I don’t clearly have other interests I mention or post about and maybe trying to hound me into focusing on only one may actually make me stray farther from it? If I don’t share anything about it ever again that’s my choice. I don’t need to give an outline for anyone to visualize or the ending.

Never ever try to tell anyone that shares their craft in a fandom that they owe anyone anything not paid for. Like I get the frustration, I really do but this is not the way to go about it. I continuously said on this newer blog and my old one that I would continue the fic when my interest in UTDR came back and gave the vague estimate that would be whenever new official stuff came out for it. It’s not concrete but that was my answer and it’s only changed because you’ve made me certain that I won’t be working on it in the foreseeable future, thank you for the help with the realization 🤟🏾

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[noecoded]

If you could have any Asmo/reader fic what would be the things you would want from it? like an ideal fic would contain what tropes or AUS or situations or whatever

uhmm anything wellwritten that characterizes asmo similar to the way i do ! i rlly like character exploration , both more serious stuff & just sillycute...anything where asmo is a little cunning and toxic and also gets railed into oblivion.anything where hes a vampire. ill write a tag essay about the specifics

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[allylikethecat]

In addition to being on ALL THE ANGST from listening to Noah Kahan, I've been rewatching Madame Secretary and can't get the idea of Secretary of State Jake and trophy husband / professor / CIA asset Bradley out of my mind. BUT I told myself no more multi chapter WIPS until I finish at least ONE of the many I am working on.

[saturn7162]

IF I DON'T FIND THIS FUCKING FANFICTION I'M GONNA LOSE MY MIND

[bitchfitch]

anon mohgwyn here! just read your mohg x miquella love in abundance series and hoo boy.

it's fucking fantastic. the way you write mohg as this devoted, almost zealous fanatic of miquella's amorphous form, how he is love and truth embodied. how miquella is characterised: he is the most fierce empyrean, and likely would not have let mohg take him if it did not play into his plans: he promised malenia he would return, after all. and yet miquella cannot help but control, in that bewitching nature of his, ironically the very thing he wishes to eliminate from the ring and order.

fhfhhfhfhrhhfhdhdhdhhdhdhdhdhdhdh I'm Soooo glad you're groking what im trying to do with them. Like, I know as soon SotE comes out literally every part of Miquella's characterization in that fic will be made ooc, bc let's be real, it's A Stretch with what's in the game as is (and Mohg is just an oc at this point). but For now he is a glorious manipulative selfish godling who represents half of the change from the stagnation that came before him while still carrying everything that caused that stagnation in the first place within himself.

Like, people more versed in the lore and development have said it better but there's So much that feels flubbed with Miquella's side of the story. And hindsight, it's probably because a chunk of it was cut out late in development to be used in SotE and so much of Mohg's everything was obviously scrapped at some point, But By God if fromsoft doesn't let him be more than a damsel in distress i will riot. Malenia the coolest hardest boss says Miquella was above even her, and in the game he got kidnapped by a shitty sewer cultist who lives in a gross swamp with his little chortling henchmen... without Malenia noticing or Miquella doing jack shit about it. It Doesn't line up.

Sorry i have So many thoughts about them in my skull at all times and they're all tripping over eachother rn bc I'm Excited about it. There's something There. If you squint. they're the exact type of fucked up that appeals to me specifically and I love them in a "by god what is Wrong with you?" way. They're the fuhken, reason i bought the game because i saw the bullshit going down with them in a let's play and just needed to get a closer look.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

the motherland don't love you, the fatherland don't love you, so why love anything?

prompt: drowning their sorrows

whumpee: kind of all 3 of napoleon solo, illya kuryakin, gaby teller

fandom: the man from uncle

hey!! this fic is a bit different from my usual stuff, it's much more about the angst and kind of the character study type aspect, so it's not whump in a traditional sense. nonetheless i really enjoyed writing it and i hope you like reading it!! (title from ya hey by vampire weekend)

“Listen,” Napoleon says, after his sixth or seventh glass of Scotch. “Fuck the Central Intelligence Agency.”

Gaby raises an eyebrow at him, takes a sip from her glass, and waits for him to say something else. 

Napoleon, however, seems to have lost his train of thought. “Fuck the CIA,” he repeats. “Nothing but a bunch of extortionists.”

“Yeah,” Gaby agrees, with the tone of one who doesn’t know exactly what it is they’re agreeing with but who is staunchly in support of it nonetheless. “Fuck the CIA,” she echoes, giggling at the English curse. 

Napoleon smiles, then grows serious, evidently having remembered his earlier thoughts. He sets his glass down with a thump. 

“No, really. I mean, God knows I’m no saint, but…look at us.” He gestures in a vague circle that encompasses himself, Gaby, and Illya, all painted with bruises and cuts of varying severity, marks of a severely botched mission and the reason for their present collective inebriation. 

Napoleon then gestures to himself, prods at his fresh black eye with a bit more force than is wise. “Ow.”

“We do not work for the CIA,” Illya points out, speaking slowly to avoid jumbling his words. “Only you.”

Napoleon scowls at him. “Not the point, Peril. My point is…my point is, how often have we looked like this because of an UNCLE mission?”

Illya shrugs, scrunching up his face like he’s actually trying to count. 

Gaby answers for him. “Not very often. Not this bad.”

Napoleon points at her. “Exactly. UNCLE has better intel - well, maybe not this time, but you know - and they actually sort of care about us. Like, Waverly probably wouldn’t threaten me with prison if I was a little cheeky with him. Probably.”

Gaby and Illya both nod. 

“And,” Napoleon starts, more to indicate that he wants to keep talking and less to introduce a well thought-out sentence, “and. Okay. I mean, I’ve never been in the KGB and I didn’t grow up in East Berlin, so I can’t really speak for you guys, but my boss here?” 

He stops, considers his use of prepositions, realizes they’re not actually in the States at the moment, and rephrases. “Back in the US, I mean. Sanders, my boss, terrible man, really, talking a big game about the country being on top of the world like he’s the one who put it there. Anyway. He threatens me with prison pretty much weekly.”

Gaby looks at him intently. “Can he actually send you to prison?”

Napoleon shrugs, does his best to be nonchalant. “Probably. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince whoever it is that needs convincing. I mean, sure, I’m useful as an agent, but at the end of the day I’m nothing but a dirty thief who should worship the ground the CIA…well, I guess the CIA as like, a thing, can’t walk, but you know…I should worship the ground the CIA walks on because they kept me out of prison. Not that working for them is anything like freedom.”

“I understand,” Gaby says, leaning slightly against Napoleon’s shoulder, partly as a gesture of comfort and solidarity and partly because everything has gone a little spinny. She waits until the feeling subsides, then speaks up again. 

“In Berlin, they trap us. East Germany is supposed to be a good place, that’s what they tell you, but then they build this wall through the city. And what are we supposed to do? We can’t go over it, they will kill us. It’s like they don’t understand that it’s the same city on both sides. There’s no freedom like that. I don’t even miss it.”

She falls silent, finishes her drink, pours another, contemplates it for a moment. 

“I do miss it, I guess. Is it possible to not miss your home?”

Her eyes have gone a bit glassy. Unconsciously, she rubs at the fresh red scratch on her cheek. 

“It isn’t like East Germany ever cared about me. Or anyone, really. Do you know how many people they arrest every day? For nothing. They questioned me about my birth father once. Two years ago they arrested my neighbor for…how is it in English? Sed… something. They said he was against the state. He was only a painter.”

“Sedition,” Napoleon chimes in, shaking his head. 

Gaby nods. “That’s it. Sedition.” She pronounces the word carefully, committing it to memory. “And even then I - I do miss it. Even after everything. There is nothing left for me there, no one. Still, sometimes I think about how I can never go back, and I think it should feel like…like freedom, but it doesn’t.”

She leans more heavily into Napoleon and shuts her eyes. She will not cry over this. Over a place that does not care for her in the slightest. Over a place that she is indifferent to and misses in the same breath. 

A soft silence. Gaby scrubs at her eyes. Illya shifts slightly in his chair, keenly aware of the fact that it would seem to be his turn. 

He finishes the last of his drink - he doesn’t know what it is, something Napoleon made that had tasted good earlier but is now horribly bitter. He doesn’t know how many of these terrible drinks he’s had. He should have kept count. He shouldn’t be so drunk. But he is, and so his tongue is loosened. He takes a deep breath and tries not to wince when his bruised ribs protest. 

“My father was not a good man,” he says, and then stops. Napoleon and Gaby both look at him, attentive. He looks away, continues after a beat. 

“He was arrested. Sent to Gulag. He stole money from the Party. I thought, they will kill him. But he is still alive. No one can see him. They will maybe tell me when he dies, I don’t know.”

He pauses, considers, formulates the English words. “He is a criminal. Or else they would have freed him. He is in prison for almost twenty years. Oleg Grigorievich, he says to me sometimes… Solo,” he says suddenly, looking at his partner. 

Napoleon looks back at him with startling intensity. “Yeah?”

“You said that Sanders, he threatens you with prison, yes?” Illya asks, and then barrels on atop of Napoleon’s affirmative answer. 

“Oleg Grigorievich also does this. He tells me I will end up in Siberia like my father if I do not perform well. I love my country, I will die for my country, but…I do not love him.”

Gaby nods seriously. “Fuck Oleg Gri…gorievich,” she proclaims, pausing in the middle of the patronymic to hiccup. Napoleon snorts, and she elbows him. He winces. 

“Your elbows are sharp. And I already have a bruise,” he complains. 

“Sorry,” Gaby apologizes, mostly sincerely. 

Illya looks at them. He is beginning to think he should not have begun speaking, because now he is not sure that he can stop. 

“I am good at my work. KGB needs me. I am happy to work for my country. But…”

“Go on,” Napoleon encourages, leaning forward. 

“We won’t tell anyone,” Gaby adds. “Nobody tells anyone anything.”

“Except each other.”

“Obviously.”

“I was just making sure!”

“But,” Illya continues, and Napoleon and Gaby turn their attention back to him. “You are nice to me.”

He doesn’t say anything else. His face feels hot and his throat feels tight. For a very long moment all three of them just look at each other. 

And then, as if by design (though neither one of them had spoken to the other), both Gaby and Napoleon get up and grab hold of Illya’s hands. 

“What are you doing?” Illya asks, scarcely moving despite their straining. 

“Come sit with us,” Gaby says. 

“Please?” Napoleon adds. “So we can all be miserable together.”

“We are already together,” Illya points out. 

“Come on, please?” Gaby asks. 

Illya heaves another sigh that has him wincing. “Okay.”

He lets them pull him to his feet. For a second he gets horribly dizzy and he has to close his eyes. When he opens them again, he’s leaning against Napoleon and Gaby has her hands on his back. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just dizzy.”

“So’m I,” Gaby agrees. “Come on, let’s sit.”

The three of them stumble back to the couch and sink down onto it rather ungracefully. Napoleon ends up in the middle, with Illya curled into the corner beside him and Gaby lying her head on his leg. 

“I’m glad you ruined my car,” Gaby suddenly says, not moving her head from its pillow. 

“What?” Napoleon asks. “We destroyed it. Beautiful car, too.”

Gaby shrugs as best as she can given her current position. “If you didn’t ruin my car, we would not be here now.”

She does have a point, Napoleon figures. “I’m glad we’re here,” he adds. “Working for the CIA is mostly terrible. Working with you is fun. You’re…” He trails off, unsure of or unwilling to fully voice any further words. 

Illya shifts a little closer to them, carefully. “At home I am part of machine. I do not mind this, but with you I am something else. Not a machine.”

“Just a person,” Gaby says. “More free.”

It’s different for her, she knows. Her career as a spy has been with Waverly alone. The only person controlling her is someone she trusts and likes. 

And yet Napoleon agrees. “Yeah,” he says, slowly. “I mean, Sanders is still in charge of me, but so is Waverly, and with UNCLE I’m not a prisoner of the US government, or at least I don’t feel like one. Maybe one of these days I won’t be, I don’t know. I’d work for UNCLE, with you guys, even if it was my choice, is what I mean, I suppose.”

“I am maybe not so free at home,” Illya chimes in, leaning slightly onto Napoleon. “This is how it is, I don’t mind. It is important that there is an order, things like this. But we…we care about each other, yes?”

It takes Gaby and Napoleon a second to realize that they’re being asked a question here. 

“Of course,” says Napoleon. 

“Obviously,” Gaby agrees. 

“Okay. We care about each other. And maybe so does Waverly. This is different. I am…I have…I can be something else here. And that is good too.”

“Well put,” says Napoleon. “Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling a little bit too drunk and a lot bit like I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Me too,” Gaby chimes in. 

“Yes,” agrees Illya. 

��And I’m not moving.”

“Me either.”

“I will stay.”

Napoleon nods slowly, closing his eyes when this makes him too dizzy. “Glad we’re agreed.”

They rearrange themselves as best as they can, which involves a lot of shuffling around, grabbing of arms for support, and general wincing. Eventually, they manage to configure themselves in a reasonably comfortable manner, all stacked and tangled together. 

“Goodnight,” Gaby mumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of Napoleon’s shirt. 

“Night,” Napoleon echoes, already half asleep with his face pressed into a cushion. 

“Goodnight,” Illya concludes, head propped up at a slightly uncomfortable angle against the armrest. 

In the morning, there will be pounding headaches, empty glasses and bottles to clean up, and various injuries to check in on. But for now, there is only silence and comfort. There is only them.

thanks for reading! this was a whole different kind of beast to write but i really loved getting to explore their characters like this, i have so many thoughts about them that don't often get to come through in my usual 'beat them up' fics. i hope you enjoyed this!!

[serenedash]

so I wasn't expecting my khux gameplay post to blow up this much because normally I just shout my khux thoughts into the void and that's that, but it's been really amazing and heartwarming seeing everyone's personal experiences with khux, like I can't say enough how much I LOVE looking at everyone's additions and tags :)

I had tried writing a long post about some khux feelings but it just wasn't coming out right. this post isn't about the game this is about me sorry tl;dr I'm a very anxious person and I love to see other people just as excited about khux as I am because I feel better about how much I like it. which is A Lot

[moriihana]

HIIII it's thesapphicdisaster from ao3!! i am loving ur dabi x disabled!reader fic. it's so important because all of the reader fics i have seen are able-boded readers. yes, mental illness is a disability and i do NOT want to discredit that at all, but it is nice to see physical disabilities getting more rep in fan fiction <3

ahhh hello there!!! i'm so glad you've been loving it!!!! :D

yeah no yea like—mental illness is 100% a disability! i struggle w both mental illness & physical disability! but like. the disparity between fics w/ mental illness as a disability and physical disability is so big that it's honestly so disappointing

since the fic was actively being written for my self-insert kayo, who is disabled and also very cool and sexy and i love their design, i was like fuck it what if i make it into a reader insert. i'm already writing it for myself might as well gift the rest of the internet with my INGENIOUS BRAIN and AMAZING WRITING in the lovely form of a reader insert

so now i've got two google docs, one with the version of kayo and one w the reader insert lmao

(there aren't many changes i've had to make, just readjusting some of the wording & taking out kayo's describing features like their scars lmao)

since i'm a self-indulgent little gremlin i'll include the art i've done of kayo under a read-more because i love them..... they're one of my favourite blorbos....

favourite lil guy honestly

[stellewriites]

i thiiiiink once i finish w this tabf sequel one shot im gonna start a cod/tf141 fic 🤭🤭🤭

[neo-shitty]

maybe the algorithm was in my favor when it led me to your blog bc i just said smth abt 505 starting to sound like aki to me and you have this

505. / hayakawa aki x gn!reader, choking, slightly suggestive, lots and lots of angst

You hate him. You fucking hate him.

How could he do this to you again? You trusted him, he gave you his word — Fuck, how could Aki do this to himself? He promised you that he wouldn't let this happen, that he wouldn't use his cursed sword any further. He wouldn't give up more of his life, more of something you both know he can't afford to lose. But he did it again.

A moonlit night, his breath hot on your neck, bare limbs tangled under the sheets like a puzzle that isn't meant to go together, and yet, this is the same position you and him have found each other in almost every night. The headlamps from passing cars shine mosaics of light through the window, and it's there, with Aki's hands clasped in your own, fingers intertwined, and his chest rising, falling, breath coming out in short little pants — It's right here, just a few days ago, where he makes his promise to you.

He stares at you from where you lay under him like you're heaven-sent, like he can't even believe you're here, like he needs to touch you, grab you, hold you close to his heart until you mouth a promise not to disappear. His lips quiver just slightly, sweat drips from his brow. His expression takes on a familiar sort of softness. "I'm not, I won't. I swear on everything I have, I'm- I won't use it, I promise."

You should have known. Aki Hayakawa is a man who doesn't have anything left to swear on.

And that's why you hate him, that's why you can't stand him. That's why you spend your time worrying and worrying and worrying, and it's why you find yourself in his bed yet again. It's why you stumbled over to his apartment without even knowing the reason, or perhaps without even having one.

You came here without caring that it's pouring, without caring to grab your umbrella, without caring about the way the rain soaks your hair, your clothes, your skin, your bones, 'til you're sure you'll catch a cold. You came without bothering to listen to the rest of his voicemail. Hey. I have bad news. Something happened at work today, and I had to... There was something crazy, and then... I just... Fuck, you know what it is. I miss you. I'm sorry, you know I-

You let yourself in with the key that he gave you, and when Aki sees you kicking your shoes off at the door, he doesn't need to ask why you're here. It's the same reason why you're sat on top of him, your pants discarded somewhere in the hallway, his shirt half-unbuttoned, staring down at him like he came fresh out of hell.

His hair is fanned out over the sheets, dark locks messy and knotted. His hands are sprawled above his head, open and upturned; his fingers twitch when your palm cups his cheek, your touch gentle, surprisingly tender, unlike the words you spit out.

I really, really hate you.

The city lights cast shadows over the shape of his face: the curve of his jaw, the peak of his nose. When your palm lingers on his cheek, Aki half-expects you to slap him, to yell at him for being stupid with his life, but even though he's sure he deserves it, you don't. And when your thumb toys with his lips, he half-expects you to kiss him, but you don't have the mercy to bless him with that, either.

Through heavy eyelids, he watches your arms as they glide down, down, your hands coming to rest around the width of his neck. Delicate, trembling fingers hold him softly, as soft as the way the freshly washed sheets feel on his skin, as soft as the warmth from your body pressed to his.

A moment soft like the pitter-patter of the rain on the windowsill, and the resounding pitter-patter of his heart. Lovely like the way you choke him, squeezing tightly, fingertips pressed into his skin, and gentle like the only thing you can manage to muster up next.

It hurts, it hurts so bad. I love you, you know?

Aki knows. He knows it hurts, he knows it's only going to keep on hurting and hurting and hurting, and at this point he knows with the way you love him, there's nothing he can do to stop it. You say those words like it's a question, like it's something that's at all up for debate, but Aki knows, more than he thinks he's known anything in this entire world.

How could he not know? Even as you strangle him, you've got tears in your eyes, an ache in your heart, a somber, pitiful sort of look on your face. The kind of expression that makes Aki want to love you until it starts to twist into something much, much sweeter.

And you're here. You're right here, in his room, when you could be anywhere else. You're wearing his shirt (something he left at your house, most likely), your ears are pierced with his earrings (a drunken mishap, but you still intend on keeping them). His hair tie is around your wrist, and your hands are around his neck. His.

Another firm squeeze makes Aki's eyelashes flutter, it sends blood rushing to his head, it causes tingles to roll over his shoulders. His head feels fuzzy, his mind feels faint. Your touch is on his neck, palm measuring the steady drum of his pulse beneath his skin, fingertips brushing over his Adam's apple, where it bobs in his throat when he swallows.

You choke him harder, his gaze softens. You're choking him, he's losing air, he's trying to stifle little coughs and gags, and yet he stares at you with nothing but utter adoration, nothing but pure love. He holds your wrists in one large, careful hand, rubbing circles into your skin that tell you, This is okay.

If he could speak, if he had the strength to tell you all the things that hide locked away within his mind and feeble tongue, he'd want to say something like, You're beautiful, so, so beautiful. Sweet thing, you're everything to me, did you know that?

Does this make you feel better, is this what you need to forgive me? I don't care what it is, or whatever it takes. Do whatever you'd like with me. I trust you. — You squeeze rougher, hands weighed down with grief, tightened with pain, and he smiles.

Your grip starts to loosen, then. Slowly, your hands grow slack, and then they recede to desperately claw at his shoulders, to drift over the outline of his collarbones. Aki catches his breath, breathing in, out, his heart hammering in his chest.

The tears you've been trying so hard to hold back finally begin to form, droplets blooming over his skin when they fall from your lashes to land on his cheeks. Your body shakes from little sobs, your eyes screw shut. Aki reaches up with one hand, brushing stray tears from your eyes with his thumb. He touches you like he could never hurt you, so tender it makes your head spin, your stomach churn.

With the other hand, he reaches for the nightstand, fumbling to flick on the lamp. Nostalgic yellow light floods the room, and Aki winces at the sudden burn on his vision.

His voice is low. Just a little raspy, just a bit fragile, but so, so gentle: "Shh, it's okay, it's alright," Your soul shatters in the wake of his words, splintering off into pieces, scattered more and more by each and every vow — "It'll be okay, everything will be okay, I promise. I'm here, please, don't cry. I'm sorry, oh, I'm so, so sorry."

You feel weak; your back slumps, your head falls, until you're sobbing into his chest, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. And once again, you hate him; you hate the way his palm comes to hold the back of your head oh-so safely, you hate the way his breath in your ear starts to shake, you hate how you can hear every beat of his heart and you know, you know the both of you won't survive this.

You've doomed yourselves from the start. Everything was over from the very beginning, from the first time you met, from the first love-sick night you spent together. From the first time you saw Aki, all bruises and scars, tattered heart and crushingly perfect. From the first time you held him, from the first time you kissed him, you knew he was going to die. And you, your soul would die with his body, you're sure of it.

Aki sighs deeply, and his hand soothingly strokes the back of your head. You're still so cold, clothes and hair still damp from the rain. Thunder crackles from somewhere outside. The bedside lamp flickers for the briefest moment. Aki holds you tighter, closer to himself, and he grasps the covers, pulling them over where the both of you lay. Warmth settles over you like a dreamy cocoon, and your body stills. The two of you, pressed together, like pages of the same tragic little book.

The rain drums against the window, on and on and on. Aki's heart settles to a rhythmic thump, each heartbeat in tune with your own. It's a long while before you feel ready to speak again, your voice breaking the thick silence: "How long? How long did the curse tell you?"

Aki hesitates. His eyes flutter open, and he stares absently at the dull shadows on the ceiling. You swear you can feel the slightest tremor in his fingers. How long does he have left to live? He takes a deep breath, and then answers honestly.

"Two years."

Two years is twenty four months is seven-hundred-something days until he's gone. He had thousands. He'll probably die even sooner. God, you hate this.

That's it, two years, just two, stupid fucking years — It seems like a lot, but a few weeks ago it was five years, a few months ago it was fifteen. Six months ago, you were sitting on his balcony, arms interlocked, drinking cheap beer from the corner store, laughing without a care in the world for tomorrow. Four months ago, you were watching as Aki lights a cigarette, his palm cupped around the flame; You shouldn't smoke, you say like a plea, and he replies, Don't worry, I've got plenty of time left. This won't be what kills me, anyway.

You can't help but huff a dry sort of laugh. Aki asks something that sounds like, What is it? and you bury your nose into his chest further. There's a tiny tinge of hope that maybe he won't hear you.

"You're gonna destroy me, Aki."