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topazadine · 5 months ago

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Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 1: Mindset Edition)

Hello. Today, we are all going to dunk on me for my meteoric mistakes when self-publishing 9 Years Yearning so that you can do the opposite of these things.

This is going to be cut up into multiple posts because I just made so. many. mistakes. that I'm rectifying with my second book. Even Part 1 is extraordinarily long because damn am I a yapper, so keep an eye out for the equally long next parts.

And maybe console me by buying my book. (I promise it's not bad! My marketing strategy is!)

It's important to be transparent about this process. So many indie authors don't want to talk about their failures because it's uncomfy, and I get it. Yeah, it does suck to admit that you have failed and then expose your failures to other people. No one wants to feel bad about their efforts, especially something so personal like writing. Still, I think it can help anyway.

Can I give you actionable advice? No. I can't. I cannot give you a secret code to marketing success because I don't even know it.

BUT. I can tell you what I did wrong so you can figure out what to do right. (Then maybe tell me about it pls.)

Thinking being a good writer = book success

I am a good writer. Not the best writer on the entire planet, but more competent than your average squadron of monkeys armed with obsolete machinery. I could take at least 1,000 non-human primates in a writing fight - I'm sure of it.

However, this does not translate to immediate, life-changing results when self-publishing and marketing.

See, the unfortunate thing is that people actually have to know that your book exists, and they have to be tempted into purchasing it before they can see your remarkable writing skills.

This means that you need to have a good cover, an intriguing blurb and ... worst of all ... a marketing strategy.

Awful. But true.

Book writing and book marketing are two completely different skills. One of them is fun! And one of them makes me want to throw myself into a lake! But alas, if I want to enjoy some sort of compensation for the Fun Part, I have to do the Bad Part.

Being mad that I didn't get insta-results

I assumed that I would get my money back from my initial investment pretty quickly. After all, I wrote a very nice book. But I still have not broken even on 9 Years Yearning, and I will likely not do so until the third part of the Eirenic Verses series hits.

Actually, I may never break even at all. And I'm not even performing that poorly for a self-published author as of now.

The average self-published, digital-only book (like mine) sells only 250 copies during its entire lifetime, which can be literal decades. 250!! That's abysmal. Many self-published books sell ZERO copies. Ever.

That makes me feel a little better about saying that from June to October 2024, my first book has sold only 32 copies. That's about 12% of the expected lifetime sales in four months.

But 32 books is not, by any means, a best seller.

Though I will tell you a secret: some authors who make best seller lists actually buy their own books to artificially boost the numbers. Donald Trump did that actually! There are entire book laundering firms, like ResultSource, that are pay to play. And the NYT best seller list is heavily biased toward people with internal connections. So you can't even trust those best seller lists very much, and you shouldn't feel bad if you're only getting a handful of sales.

Regardless of whether other people lie their way to the top, the cold hard truth is that if I want to repay myself for my efforts on 9 Years Yearning, I need to sell about 1,500 copies (plus, oh, 20 extra for taxation).

That's a pretty scary number. 1,500 people have to like my book?! I don't even know that many people!

It's okay, though. My next book, Pride Before a Fall, will have a faster return on investment because it's priced a little higher at $2.99. So, for the second book, I only need to sell about 180 copies to break even. That is also because I didn't make as many dumb money mistakes, which I'll discuss in a later installment.

Very few self-published books gain instant attention and fame; many self-pubbed authors give up on advertising themselves at all because they didn't get a lot of success at first. But I'm not going to be deterred now that I realize I have to put the marketing work in.

It's up to you whether you're willing to keep grinding if you don't get immediate results.

Being lazy about learning marketing

I am still struggling with this, to be honest.

Look, I don't like marketing. The time I spend learning about marketing could be spent on something that does not make me want to tear my eyes out of their sockets. I could go rock climbing! I could watch a video on caving deaths! I could pet my dog!

So I've set a goal for myself that I just have to do one thing related to marketing a week. That could be creating visuals, reading other peoples' experiences, watching videos on it, taking courses, and so on.

It is not a lot of time spent per week, yes; perhaps about two hours. But it's about all I can stomach because it's just so boring and confusing to me.

After my first bitter disappointment, I have learned that it's okay to take a longer, more methodical approach, especially because The Eirenic Verses is a ten-part series. If I stay consistent, it will inevitably start to gain traction over time.

Ignoring the marketing potential in my friend group

I didn't really talk about my book with anyone but my family before publishing it. Didn't tell my friends, didn't post much about it on social media.

Instead, I dropped it like a dead squirrel on Facebook's feet a few days after it actually released. Thank god I didn't do the horrible Millennial "so ... I did a thing" bullshit, but I was almost too blithe about it.

I just don't want to feel like I'm bragging or making people feel obligated to purchase a copy. Which is kind of dumb of me, because people I know IRL have been super enthusiastic! I'm not even joking.

One of my newest friends purchased a copy directly in front of me and told their friends about it, so I got multiple sales just by mentioning it once. Old friends I've barely talked to in years reached out to tell me how much they loved my book and that they're so excited for me.

I learned that as long as I am not insufferable about it, most people are excited to hear that they are friends with a ~published author~. I've spent so long being immersed in Writing World that I kind of forget that to non-writers, publishing (even self-pub) is a big deal.

So I am learning to be more comfortable with talking about being an author as long as I don't act like I'm super special for clicking some keys.

Not celebrating my successes

This seems like a strange problem to have, but I can't be the only one who just kinda goes "meh" about their own achievements. Whether that's from poor self-esteem or Daddy Issues, idk, but I didn't really do anything when I released 9 Years Yearning. Didn't even get myself a cake.

I think this rubbed off on the people around me; after all, humans tend to follow one another's lead. Since I didn't treat it like a big deal at first, no one else did either. And this, of course, led to zero marketing juice because if even the author herself isn't pumped about the book, it must suck, right?

It doesn't suck. Again, I just suck at marketing myself.

So I'm forcing myself to be more enthusiastic about my next book, and to tell more people about it. I'm even getting a Bannain tattoo to celebrate the release.

Look at this stupid little idiot! I'm going to have him inked on me forever and ever <3

Given that I've gotten some decent pre-orders already (again, because I actually tried to fucking market this time), I think this more enthusiastic approach is going to serve me well.

The Thing I Did Right: Viewing my fiction writing as a money sink

Alright, so the one thing I have done correctly, which is that I did not make the fatal error of quitting my day job. I knew that my fiction writing was not going to be paying the bills any time soon. Instead, I view my job as a way to fund my Blorbo Factory.

It's not fatalistic to recognize that the odds are stacked against you as a self-pubbed author. It's realistic. You can either be delusionally confident that you will succeed, or you can be desperately demotivated and never bother.

Or you can be in the middle, see the risks, and decide that there is a deeper motivation than just making money that powers you.

Releasing the pressure of success actually makes it easier to succeed. If you are not hinging all your financial hopes and dreams on your books, then you don't see it as a loss to buy a nice book cover, pay for a good beta reader, and so on. You see it as an investment in your happiness and self-fulfillment, just like you spend money to go to the gym or buy a yourself an ice cream.

And, most importantly, you won't spend more money than you can afford to lose.

So many authors go into massive amounts of debt to fund their books and then are horrified to find that they make nothing back. A lot fall for vanity press scams and spend thousands only to have to do the same damn things I have to do as a self-pubbed author. And sometimes they never even see their book in print at all.

This could have been avoided if they had recognized that, just like when going to the casino, you shouldn't put yourself into debt in hopes of a big payday.

Anyway, now that I've told you about my marketing failures so you can avoid them, maybe you'll consider buying my book, 9 Years Yearning, which is very good despite my terrible marketing skills. It's got horses and cute boys!

And when you're done with that (it only takes about 2 hours to read, btw), be sure to pre-order the next book, Pride Before a Fall, which is arriving January 1, 2025!

Oh, and please don't forget to leave a review. Very important stuff.

I've been dodging calls from Amazon HQ who warn me that if I don't get more reviews, they'll place my children in a mushroomifier, whatever that means.

Oh ... oh no ....

#self publishing #indie publishing #self publication #self pub #aspiring author #indie author #indie authors #writers of tumblr #writerblr #writing community #writeblr #writeblr community #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing blog #female writers #writers community

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featherymess · 3 months ago

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okay y’all. I love my physical media and can I just say it’s HARD to find some releases now? And I don’t get it…like there’s literally no reason for Target/Walamart to not be selling it. Not even looking for anything old, just the Pete’s Dragon live action film from 2016. And apparently they’re almost out of bayverse transformers, so I had to pull the trigger on that too.

Like fuck, I don’t want y’all’s digital copies unless they come included WITH THE PHYSICAL DISC. Any of you who have favourite films and don’t own em on disc? Might want to start poking around to see how available they are. It could also be the holiday season running places low on stock at the moment, but who knows for sure.

WAIT HEY BEFORE YOU RUN OFF! Go check your local used book stores and thrift shops for cheap discs. Hell, I picked up seven movies for fifty six dollars recently and those were all blu rays. Just please for the love of everything that is good pop open those cases before purchase if you can. Does it look weird? Maybe. Does it save you from spending money on a disc that looks like someone let their child go feral on it with a sharp object (and yes that blu ray/dvd set went RIGHT back on the shelf)? Yes.

I’m gonna just wrap this up with please, get your hands on the physical version of movies that you love and treasure. You never know where the digital version will be with how streaming services are now. Get discs new if you want since hey! That shows demand to companies for physical media! And if you like having the digital versions, they usually come with codes.

But buying used isn’t bad. I say this as someone who is trying to get my hands on a ton of movies at the moment and my financial situation makes me pick and chose even when I don’t want to. Yes, you’re not giving the feedback demand to the companies BUT your financial situation matters a hell of a lot more. Get those practically pristine used movies from the thrifts. Go browse your secondhand media shops. Find those blu ray deals where the used version is seven dollars while the brand new version is twenty. (Yes, I know, the code is tempting. But do you want to pay that much more just for the digital copy inclusion?) And hey…maybe you’ll be able to splurge on a brand new disc of a new release with those savings from buying older used movies.

#theres a disturbing trend of movies getting hard to find not that long after release depending on the movie #physical media #blu ray #media rant

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theohonohan · 9 months ago

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Not really a community matter

I’ve finished reading and listening to Miranda July’s All Fours. (I bought the audiobook after getting stuck near the end of the first part while reading the Kindle edition. In all, the cost was less than a physical copy. We’ll see whether I retain access to either digital format in five years, or ten years, or after the collapse of the current dispensation).

I am going to write something more about July, although it’s tempting to leave off with the last piece I wrote, which I think was pithy enough.

July calls herself an artist, but to my mind she’s really an “artist” in quotation marks. It’s hard to look at her body of work and conclude that she is a genuine maker of art, rather than a filmmaker. I don’t mean to gatekeep or police the business of art making—what I mean is just that when I compare her to Sophie Calle or Frances Stark, her artwork seems a little less considered, a little more slight. She’s a celebrity, no doubt. As she writes in the book “I worked in so many mediums that I was able to debut many times; for about fifteen years I just kept emerging, like a bud opening over and over again.” Is this it—that she has a knack for making an impression, but lacks the wherewithal to become truly established?

In a recent interview, July remarked:

In my early twenties I came across a book by the artist and Bauhaus teacher László Moholy-Nagy, and I still have the bookmark in the spot that says, “Art is a community matter transcending the limitations of specialization,” which I took to mean we don’t have to specialize. So I guess I did need some outside approval on this.

Moholy-Nagy is an unexpected reference point for July, and rather than being a representative of interdisciplinarity (as July is taking him to be) he is best known as a designer (consider his text “Designing is not a profession but attitude”: https://www.readingdesign.org/designing-is-not-a-profession). Moholy-Nagy, in my mind, is distinctively modernist figure who sees himself, in the role of designer, regulating the whole system of production, knowing what every machine in the factory does and why it is doing it. July is not a designer—her productions are more scattershot—and although she is very fluent, articulate, and a great writer, the philosophy she is guided by seems to be somewhat patchy and gimcrack when compared to Moholy-Nagy’s perhaps overbearing but at least technically competent “man at the crossroads” of industrial society.

Much of July’s material seems to come from her weird upbringing, with a pair of crazy parents who ran a new-agey pseudo-scientific publishing house. Although she seeks to be the brainy one with insight into relationships, her engagement with many topics is, on the evidence of All Fours, a little superficial. She’s not really a “theoretical girl”, to use the classic 80s expression (I don't think she'd claim to be one, either—not "theoretical", anyway).

I’m interested in her untrained and “intuitive” (whatever that word means) perceptions of the world, particularly when it comes to things like apps. I’m a little disappointed that her articulacy doesn’t seem to be backed up by a strong programme of investigations. She does seem busy, compulsive even, and I guess that the book is in some sense a reckoning with the point in life when natural compulsion and energy seem to wear out. July’s character slackens off the pace, finding it difficult to make new work. It seems very plausible to me that July’s success has come from being driven, from relentlessly transcribing and exposing her immediate thoughts to the world, rather than through deep insight and contemplation. She writes:

I work in our converted garage. One leg of my desk is shorter than the others and every day for the past fifteen years I’ve meant to wedge something under it, but every day my work is too urgent—I’m perpetually at a crucial turning point; everything is forever about to be revealed.

I can relate to this. Is it a kind of self-indulgence to dedicate oneself to this work? Is it self-centered to think that this is how you should spend your time?

I hadn’t planned on becoming this rarefied; I had just spent every waking moment trying to get across what life seemed like to me, only allowing undeniable things—the child, a bad case of the flu, hunger and thirst—to take me away from this trying.

One point of annoyance, for some readers of the book, is July’s financial obliviousness. From the point when the protagonist spontaneously chooses to blow her $20k on redecorating a cheap motel room, she seems almost wilfully ignorant of the legal aspects. Of course she doesn’t own the hotel room. She may have “made it her own” in an aesthetic sense, like every house she has lived in (she has never actually bought her own house) but every improvement she makes to the room is an investment in someone else’s property. It’s a matter of fixtures and chattels. One reviewer on Goodreads thought that having the protagonist spend that much money to decorate the room indicated that All Fours was intended to be "cartoonish", but I'm not so sure. In the real world, one can pay $5,000 for a copy of July's limited edition 2022 art book Services. It's available for sale on the publisher's website—you don't have to enquire to discover the price, or organize finance. Supposedly, it's something you'd just pick up. It seems all too likely that $20,000 seems like a significant amount to July, but not crazy money.

To me, though, July seems to have consciously chosen to focus on matters other than the purely materialistic. The problematic of her narrative is not “how to earn it” but “how to spend it”. Sure, she’s insanely privileged, but she can’t be expected to write perceptively about anything other than her own experience.

On a psychic level, July’s refurbishment of the motel room is recognizably a kind of cathexis. It’s an intense investment of mental energy into a particular site. Is she trying to create a second womb for herself to hide out in? Would that be a sign of primary narcissism (the desire to shut out the world and return to the security and omnipotence of the time before birth)? She seems to address this possibility at the end of the book. She is watching her former lover Davey dancing in a theatre in New York:

He was still rising as I looked around slowly, smelling tonka bean. Of course none of the furniture was here, not the great chairs or the pink bed or the marble-topped table, but the theater now felt eerily like the room. Safe and full of holy potential. I swallowed and sat back. Suddenly I wanted to stay here and for this to go on and on, but from the music I could tell the performance was almost over; it would end when he landed. Any second now I’d be clapping, the lights would come up. In the meantime he was still rising and the warm, hallowed feeling kept growing; I could feel it expanding beyond the walls, into the street. It would still be there when I got outside, gilding the whole neighborhood, the whole city. Indeed the whole world was the motel room. The whole universe? Yes, everything was the room; you could not step outside of it, not even by dying. And he was still rising, into the air. If 321 was everywhere then every day was Wednesday, and I could always be how I was in the room. Imperfect, ungendered, game, unashamed. I had everything I needed in my pockets, a full soul.

This seemingly accepting, integrated grasp of the world is offered as a refutation of the idea that July’s protagonist is trying to escape from reality into some kind of ideal dream.

It goes without saying that Miranda July is a romantic (to a fault). She also seems perpetually on-edge, a little uptight—as one web page remarks, somewhat unkindly: “It is hard not to think of the characters Kristen Wiig played on SNL, or in Anchorman 2—awkward, passive, grating”. It’s possible to put all that to one side in course of the mediated experience of a book. Her voice in the audiobook edition is expressive and assertive, while the character whose life it describes is often less so. It’s as a performer that July’s unexpected charm comes to the surface. That’s what she is celebrated for.

Inevitably, July’s story doesn’t involve public service, activism, or a real engagement with the local community in Monrovia, the town where she spontaneously beds down. It’s just not her topic. This emphasis on celebrity (for example, the protagonist’s preoccupation with having a private meeting with the pop singer Arkanda) is an essential part of the book. I suppose community is essentually bland, while July’s concern is with risk-taking and intensity of experience (erotic or otherwise). All the same, her emphasis on individual growth and experience seems to have no counterbalance in terms of ramifying social ties. July’s character floats along in the world of a (admittedly, relatively minor) celebrity, seemingly unaware of the possibilities and responsibilities of solidarity with the mass of ordinary people. But then again, this might be an illusion created by the focus she chose for the narrative of All Fours, rather than a real limitation of July's actual life.

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j0kers-light · 1 year ago

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His Lighthouse: Coordinates to Home (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Coordinates to Home - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

In light of this post, I give you Joker with tattoos! Don't tempt me, cuz I’ll write it! I did not use this mini oneshot to stall writing the next chapter. I had to get this out of my head and onto digital paper before I lost it my marbles. Child I literally wrote this at my desk so I apologize if there’s anything errors. I hope you enjoy!

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @clemdango04 @l3ejm @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace @she-could-never @that--thing

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

You had to be seeing things because there was no way Joker, of all people, had a tattoo.

It didn’t make sense given that tattoos were so unique. They were used to identify people for crying out loud! Was he really that careless? You found it hard to believe that J would have one given his illegal (and wanted) status in the world.

Unless.. he acquired them before becoming The Joker. If so, you had to know what it was!

For a moment you thought it was just a trick of the light. Another blemish, for a monument to his hard life was etched onto his skin already. What was another mark to a man like Joker?

Old scars, deep battle wounds, and one gnarly area below his rib cage, ‘a bomb gone wrong’ he told you, made identifying the possible tattoo difficult. It just blended in with his silvery skin.

Additionally, you had to pretend that you weren’t intrigued less Joker would feel your gaze and thwart your attempts. He had come a long way to be confident with his body, more so around you.

In the beginning, he didn’t remove his clothes at all if you were nearby. Now Joker practically walked around nude. You definitely weren’t complaining yet this was the first time you looked at him in great detail.

What could you say? When Joker took off his clothes, your mind quickly became… distracted.

It was a peaceful morning with the sun pouring in through the windows and Gotham had yet to begin its corruption. Not like it ever took a break.

You and Joker were safely tucked away in the comfort of your bed.

J was knocked out, flat on his stomach, and for once you woke up before him. It was rare to see Joker asleep, so you took the opportunity to admire your lover while it lasted.

The stress of his title was far removed from his features. His face was bare of any greasepaint and surprisingly his hair wasn’t dyed its signature green. J had promised not to color it when around you, thus his natural sun kissed hair was askew all over the sheets.

A gentle smile curled the corner of his scarred lip, and the sight made you copy the action. Joker looked at peace.

Any other morning you would’ve counted his freckles or kissed his nose—today you were on a mission.

Joker was an extremely light sleeper, causing you to move with caution until you straddled his lower back. There you had full access to view his most vulnerable side. A ray of sunlight hit Joker just right and you held back a sigh, seeing all the pain he endured over the years.

Some other time you would kiss them one by one.

Your fingertips grazed the site where you first caught a glimpse of his potential tattoo.

And much to your surprise, a sentence in a language unfamiliar to you was written out in red ink. It almost blended with his skin and if you weren’t intentionally looking, you would’ve never found it.

“Everything burns.”

You jumped hearing Joker’s sleep filled voice recite the text. He turned his head toward you, groggy from sleep but still handsome as ever. Right now, he resembled a grumpy cat deprived of sleep.

You had the decency to be guilty. “I didn’t mean to wake you, J. G-Go back to sleep.” You whispered.

Fat chance of that happening.

Once Joker was up, it would take an act of congress to get him back asleep. Both of you knew that. He yawned and rolled onto his back, extending a hand to hold your hip steady during the position change.

“J… I’m so sorry for waking you. I know you’re exhausted from last night and…”

Why were you still talking? The damage was already done.

“Hush Bunny.” Joker blinked away the last of his sleep to finally rest his eyes on you. Being woken up this early was worth it if this was the reward.

You bathed in the morning sun, gazing down at him like a deity. How did he get so lucky? His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on your hips, as he hummed.

“Mm. I got such a errr curious little Bunny. Did ya find what you were uhh, looking for?”

The sound of his voice so early in the day should honestly be illegal— but you shook your head clear to focus. Now was not the time to be horny.

You did in fact find what you sought out for, but its discovery only opened more questions.

“What language is it in and.. um why use red ink?” You asked.

How did he get access to ink? Was the tat written his native tongue? And it was so tiny, no bigger than your index finger in length. Who can tattoo that small? Joker could see the swarm of questions buzzing in your head.

“Now, now Bunny. Tattoos are powerful messages! Red ink is perfect for uh hiding them in plainnn sight. Why, you’ve seen everyyy inch of me doll and you didn’t notice it.” He stopped to smirk, “Or the others.”

Your bunny ears perked up, “Others?”

Joker thought you were the cutest. He could see every emotion you displayed in real time. He winked at you.

You neglected the fact that Joker didn’t fully answer your question. You were on the hunt for the others. Joker hissed when your cold hands came in contact with his chest but chuckled at his bunny’s avid curiosity.

“You won’t find them like this, my Light. Be a dear and move?” He playfully bucked his hips, causing you to lose your balance.

“Oh!” You fell over and watched as Joker sat up and presented his back to you. It was an honor indeed and you kissed J’s cheek for the amount of trust he gave you.

You hardly saw his back given it was a sore spot for him. But sure enough, the sun’s gaze illuminated his skin for your search, and you saw it all.

Joker inhaled and your eyes dropped down to a patch of skin in wonder. “It’s white ink!” You gasped, “I never seen white before..”

You found a set of dates (no surprise, missing the year), a line of coordinates, another phrase in the same looking foreign language, and an exaggerated smiley face but in black ink. Each little gem was a rabbit’s hole into Joker’s character. You were almost afraid to touch them, it didn’t seem real.

He spun around to kiss you, but you wouldn’t be distracted.

In between kisses and gasps for air you asked, “What do they all mean?” It was your turn to shiver when Joker’s hands came in contact with your body. He was removing your night shirt when he huffed in irritation.

“Do they neee~eeed to have a meaning Y/n?” He pulled back to let you moan out in want. His hands were making it difficult to string sentences together.

“N-No but..” you wavered, and J used your hesitation against you.

“But nothing.”

He pushed you down on the bed and grinned at the hazy look in your eye. You wanted this too. Joker rubbed your knees until you got the message and parted your legs for him.

Joker slotted himself in the space you created and guided you to wrap your legs around his hips. Your hands traveled up his shoulder blades and down to where you now knew his tattoos resided.

With each mind-numbing kiss, you worked hard to memorize every bump and ridge. You weren’t letting this go. If Joker wouldn’t tell you, you’d find out for yourself.

This was dangerous and probably one of the dumbest things you ever did.

Joker was out terrorizing Gotham City tonight, leaving you home alone and burning with curiosity. It was safe to say that you were obsessed.

J gave you plenty of chances to study the grooves of his tattoo with all the sex he instigated. It didn’t matter that you had to learn it backwards, you needed to know what his tattoos meant! You drew what you could duplicate in your notebook and hoped it was correct.

At first you were confused. Joker’s tattoo resembled Braille with its raised font; however, one engine search later found that prison tattoos or ones of lesser value, were not the best and scarred the flesh worse than a professional.

Joker’s tattoos were literally carved into his skin. His threshold for pain was a cause for concern.

After shivering in disgust, you opened a latitude and longitude finder and started entering the coordinates by trial and error.

You were excited to learn more about Joker even if your methods were a bit unconventional. Perhaps it was his old childhood home or the town where he was born! The coordinates were next to tiny Roman numerals for a date, so you assumed that was the meaning behind his tattoos.

Something this important on a man like Joker was bound to be epic.

He certainly went to great lengths to keep it concealed. It was located on his back, in white ink, and no bigger than three to four inches in diameter. Whatever it was, you would solve it.

You were biting your lip in anticipation when the map completed its search. The results shocked you. “Huh? That’s…”

“Home.”

You screamed upon hearing Joker right behind you. He had a habit of sneaking up on you, but today took the cake.

“Joker what are you doing here?! You almost gave me a heart attack! I thought you were staying in Amusement Mile tonight?!”

He ignored all your panic induced questions to focus on your computer. A GPS tracker had finalized its results and dropped a pin smack dab on your apartment. He glanced at your notebook where your handwriting matched the tattoos on his back.

His Light was too curious for her own good.

“If ya want-ed to know.. you could’ve asked me, Y/n.”

“Oh! I know you lying!” You asked him what they meant weeks ago, and he didn’t say! Now he wanna speak up? This man know he got on your last nerve!!

You had the urge to throw something, but you kept your cool.

Joker seemed to enjoy your irritation. He shrugged off his coat and made himself comfortable at your desk. He chose to ignore you calling him a liar, though.

“Are ya done, doll?” He mused.

“No, I’m not!” you tapped the computer screen, “Why does it point here?” You asked.

Joker twirled around in your desk chair, throwing you a ‘are you kidding me’ look. He was having a grand old time acting like a whole kid; you were waiting for an explanation.

He was making you dizzy so you reached out and stopped his little merry go round ride. J laughed and waited for the room to stop spinning before grabbing your hand.

“I uh de-cide-ed to keep a.. permanenT record of home on me should I ahh, ever get.. lost. Smart huh?”

Never mind the fact he couldn’t see it, you were touched.

You caved and walked straight into Joker’s lap. His hands found their rightful place on your hips as he looked up at his Light.

Your hands busied themselves in his hair, curling wayward strands around your fingers. “I-I’m home to you?”

J just nodded and quickly regretting the motion after spinning around so much.

“And the date?”

His lips pecked your exposed midriff before he rested his head against it. “The uh.. day we met.”

How do you respond to such a heartfelt confession? Simple. You don’t.

All you could do was blink back tears and pray that Joker didn’t hear you crying. Maybe he did since his grip tightened around you. Silence enveloped the room. Hidden within the scars of his past was a reminder of a brighter future.

Joker was grateful you didn’t poke any further and deduced the other portion of his tattoo. He told you the first half that was written in red ink, but not the added line in white.

Underneath the coordinates to home and the day he found his light, a vow was etched in a language he long since forgotten.

Everything burns, but not her.

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button-kin-games · 1 year ago

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Button Kin Times - December 2023

Airecon NW and Jude's World cover art reveal

Greetings festive friends! Are we merry and bright yet? No? Okay, I feel that. I was tempted to start this newsletter off by griping about what a bastard of a month December is, but I don’t think anyone needs that right now. So I won’t. I have a handful of good news nuggets that I’m determined to focus on instead. They’re not much, but they’re what we have until the return of the sun.The author herself smiling behind the Button Kin stall at Airecon NW.

Airecon NW was lovely! If only a moderate success financially speaking. The organisers themselves admitted that attendance wasn’t what they’d hoped for (1k heads instead of 2k). There are a lot of potential reasons: train strikes, terrible weather, a clash with a Dungeons and Flagons weekender. The December of it all. But “the vibes” were good and I had many lovely, educational, and inspiring conversations. Welcome new subscribers! I hope your dinosaurs are doing well.

Thanks for reading Button Kin Games! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

My main take away is this: for a small-time solo creator it’s worth doing a local convention or two for the experience, for the contacts, and for the morale boost of talking about your art face to face with people. All of which are much more better for the soul than shouting into the dank, stagnant social media well, praying you don’t wake the trolls sleeping within.

Drama Llamas accessories are now free! I realised while selling physical copies of Drama Llamas at the con that I had my digital cheat sheets and character sheets trapped behind a paywall. I can only apologise. If you’d like copies of those they’re now available to download for free on the Button Kin website.

Jude’s World has a cover! My in-development solo TTRPG in which a plucky preteen protagonist struggles to reunite their feuding parents now has cover art by the supremely talented Mega Asellia. Layout by myself. Really going for that 90s teen novella aesthetic. Speaking of which…

Development Diary: Jude’s World

This month I wanted to crack a couple of core mechanics that were notably missing from my first play test: the resolution for Jude’s parent traps an

d the tracking of their parents’ relationship over the course of the game, leading ultimately to an ending where they either get back together or… something else. I wanted two things from these mechanics, which I’ll talk through a bit.

Thing One: It should be difficult to get Jude’s parents back together

While it is possible to succeed, in most play throughs of this game players will have to accept that no amount of trapping and manipulating will reunite these two. People are complicated, relationships are hard, and mostly people break up for good and valid reasons. I have a related concern that it should be clear that this game aims to critique and deconstruct “parent trap” media rather than replicating it wholesale. The genesis of this project was, after all, my uncomfortable reaction to a piece in this genre. I want to make something messier, kinder, and a bit more true to life. A story that’s as much about the kid doing the trapping as it is about the parents being trapped.

Thing Two: If Jude’s parents don’t get back together that shouldn’t necessarily feel like a failure

Maybe they’re not back together but they are on better terms than when they started out? Maybe they’re still on bad terms but Jude has a better perspective on why that is? Maybe it’s not all “fixed”, just easier to process and navigate? It’s trite, but I’ll say it anyway: part of growing up is coming to see your parents as fallible, uniquely flawed human beings and then deciding what to do with that information. This is a coming of age story strongly themed on that common experience.

So, what mechanics did I go with? For the resolution of traps I wanted something simple with multiple, clearly bounded levels of success, failure, or a mixture of the two. So why not use 2d6 and a PbtA move-style resolution? Here’s a first draft:

6 or lower is a failure. Mark a Scar. 7-9 is a partial success. Choose an outcome: 10+ is a full success. Mark 1 Heart 12+ is an outstanding success. Mark 1 Heart and choose an additional outcome:

And what are Hearts and Scars? Those are the measures I came up with for tracking the status of Jude’s parents’ relationship. Which I may rename at some point as I’m not 100% happy with them yet. They feel a bit obvious? Maybe that’s not such a bad thing? I continue to mull.

Hearts, unsurprisingly, represent the exes’ affection for each other, which can be platonic in nature, or romantic, or both. Scars represent the pain they’ve caused each other or the problems in their relationship; their anti-compatibility. I felt strongly that these needed to be two separate metrics. It feels important to acknowledge that you can care deeply for someone and still find that you can’t get along, or know that they’ve caused you too much pain for your romantic relationship to continue. Too many Scars gained will result in a big blow up, which then reduces both Hearts and Scars back to zero.

At the end of the game to get Jude’s parents back together you need to have maxed out their Hearts. Otherwise players are advised to look at the balance of Hearts and Scars to decide how things stand between them, coming up with their own nuanced take from Jude’s perspective. Because the end of the story you’re telling should ideally be about Jude, a young protagonist with their whole life ahead of them. What did they learn? How have they grown?

I’m keen to get around to play test 2 before I write to you all again. I have a week off over Christmas and no plans to go gallivanting (gone are the days…) so that should hopefully come to pass. Let me know in the comments if you have any questions you’d like answered in the next edition of the development diary?

Thanks for reading Button Kin Games! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

#indie ttrpg #solo ttrpg #ttrpg dev #ttrpg

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oedein · 4 years ago

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DEAL WITH IT.

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader.

warnings: SMUT. sub reader. unprotected sex, overstim, light degradation, pet names.

word count: 3.9k

A/N: lol sorry for making bucky so mean ;(

Standing in the bedroom of your shared bedroom with Bucky, the two of you were trying to find outfits for tonight.

Tony had invited all of the avengers to party to celebrate your latest mission with the squad ending flawlessly. As part of the team, you were going. Bucky was quite averse to the idea of staying out for the night at first, but after a few hours of you practically begging him, he finally caved. — It's not that Bucky wouldn't have gone at all; he would've most likely just tucked himself away in a corner during the whole night and minded his own very boring business. If it wasn't for you accompanying him, helping him loosen up and actually enjoy himself.

After spending a fair amount of time getting ready both physically and mentally, you arrived at the party without any further hindrance.

Bucky kept close to you, his shoulder bumping into yours every time you stopped to greet someone. An hour of just strolling around endlessly made you jittery, feet bouncing off the floor every time you stopped walking. The sound of your suits rubbing up against each other built up a mild frustration within you, making you grit your teeth. You decided to link your arms together as a result instead of walking around like you were gonna merge. The two of you were usually shy about showing affection in public, especially around the other Avengers, but something about tonight tempted you into being more physical with him. You ended up catching up with a friend for quite some time as you were on the way to a bar, making Bucky rather restless. Excusing yourself, you nudged into his side and turned to whisper in his ear. "Hey, 'might want to go there alone for now. I'll be there in a bit." Bucky nodded and pulled his arm away from yours, starting to walk away from you. You watched as he went to sit down on a stool in a far corner, ordering his drink in peace. Your eyes kept flickering over to Bucky as your friend spoke, silently watching as he brushed his hair out of his face and cracked his knuckles. The way he tilted his head back and sighed in frustration as his bangs fell into his face again made you chuckle quietly. You followed every minute movement he did, biting your lip. When he scratched his beard, squinted when someone was too loud, or the way he would look over at you, eyes scanning you up and down made you lose your sense of surrounding, only fixating on him. The friend from earlier was still talking but caught on to you zoning out pretty quickly. Not wanting to bother you further or waste time, they excused themselves and nodded towards your boyfriend, "Go catch up with him; we'll talk more later!" You would apologise countless times for being so out of it before your attention turned back to Bucky, your gazes connecting. "Buck, buck, buck!" You called out playfully, humming as you walked up to him. He turned the stool around as he heard your voice, giving you a slight nod in acknowledgement. You beamed up at him, taking the opportunity to move closer, nestling between his spread legs and leaning your back up against him.

Bucky leaned forward to rest his chin on your shoulder instead of just sitting straight, giving you a soft nuzzle. As the bartender approached, you quickly added, 'I'll have whatever he's having.' craning your neck to the side and giving Bucky a wink. You could feel his chest rumble as a chuckle built up, the sweet sound escaping from his lips and lingering around you. You awkwardly wrapped an arm around him and turned, lips hovering over each other for a few seconds before they connected. A quick yet deep kiss. You hummed in discontent once he pulled away from you, placing a lasting kiss on your cheek instead. Bucky glanced at you, watching as you nuzzled your cheek into his chin and kept your arm around his shoulder before you leaned back into him. "You look so good in that suit, Buck. Giving me so many bad thoughts..." you purred into his ear, watching as he suddenly turned in his seat. "And it's so hard to have all these thoughts with so many people around. I can't do anything about it." A string of tsks left you, and you shook your head playfully, turning to look for a drop of shock on his face. To your surprise, he was staring straight ahead, gaze almost burning holes into the wall. You couldn't make out any emotions on his features, only noticing his visibly clenched jaw. A pang of satisfaction ran through you — the plan you wanted to set into motion earlier was seemingly starting to work. Bucky's attention returned to you, and he moved his hands to your waist, pushing you so that you would turn to face him. His eyes fixed on you as he leaned in closer, your noses almost touching.

"No." A single word left his lips, taunting you. The confidence from mere seconds ago crawled back inside, being replaced by a newfound annoyance of your boyfriend. You looked directly at him, letting out a huff in response. A smirk crept up over your features, and you placed an arm on his waist, "Aw, come on," you emphasised the last word, dragging it out as you nudged him with your shoulder, "you know you want it." You brought your hand up, dragging it against his crotch before it slinked under his chin, tilting his head down. Moving in for a kiss as he jerked back from the contact, you gave his bottom lip a tug before you pulled away. You heard a quiet 'fuck you.' escape his lips, making you giggle in return. You made sure to finish up your drinks before you got up, deciding to walk outside to chill off. The cold air bit at your reddened cheeks, making you shiver and press further into Bucky as you walked. Your hands curled up into fists, shaking from the chill winds dancing around you before Bucky eveloped them in his. The silent walk fell short as you stopped, turning to stand in front of him. You wriggled your hands free from his grip and placed them on his tie, playfully tugging on it. You reached down to his pants, fingers resting on his belt before you dragged your nails against the leather. You felt his muscles flex underneath his shirt, reacting every time your fingers would brush up against his abdomen. Bucky remained silent, watching as you pushed up against him, grinding your crotch against his, desperate for any reaction. Your eyes met, staring down each other, awaiting your next moves. Your shared warmth was soon gone, with Bucky almost peeling you off of him, moving his hand under your chin and tilting it up.

He ran his metal arm down your body until he stopped at your crotch, copying your actions. Before you could react, he pulled away, shaking his head at you dismissively. The trip home was unbearably quiet, Bucky shutting down any advances you made, resorting to a painful silent treatment. Once you got to your apartment, Bucky ushered you inside and closed the door with an unexpected intensity that made you jump in surprise. Discarding your outerwear, the two of you began walking inside before you were stopped in your track, almost falling over as a result. Bucky was close behind you as his hand found its way to your pants, hooking a finger around your belt and pulling your back towards him. You yelped in surprise, stumbling back a few steps before you hit Bucky's chest with a soft thump. A sigh escaped him before he spoke, voice low and gruff. "I don't appreciate that type of behaviour. Especially not in front of others." His free hand found its way up to your face, fingers wrapping around your jaw firmly, turning you to face him. "Whatever you were trying to gain back there is not going to happen." He noticed a change in your posture, the way you almost cringed into yourself as you listened to his harsh words. As soon as you were about to speak up, Bucky was cutting you off in an instant. "Hm? D'you really think you deserve any of those things?" His words were laced in disappointment, watching as you desperately racked your brain to try and come up with a confident reply. "Aw, poor boy... not a single word, huh?" Bucky brought his knee up between your legs and pushed them apart, the fingers around your belt pulling you further into him. He grinded up against your backside, listening to your mewls. "Where did all that confidence from earlier go?" He huffed out a chuckle, hot breath fanning against your cheek. A satisfied smirk washed over his features as you shuddered in response. "Be good for once and sit down." He mumbled, giving you a slight push towards the living room sofa. You gasped at the sudden movement, stumbling forward and catching yourself on the armrest before you sat down, anticipating Bucky's next move. He followed close behind, eyes never leaving your frame. The growing silence broke as Bucky reached out with two fingers in front of your face. He was towering over you, fully taking advantage of the angle he was at. "Open your mouth." You obliged eagerly, faster than he could finish the sentence. Leaning forward, you let your tongue lay flat against your lower lip and tilted your head back. You looked up at him proudly, expecting to hear praises; instead, you were met by his harsh silence again. Bucky watched as you wrapped your lips around his digits, fluttering your eyelashes at him as your gazes met. You could sense how impatient he was getting, so you started sucking on his fingers, coating them in your saliva. The muffled moans you let out against Bucky's fingers made his cock twitch in his pants, his bulge visibly growing. A string of saliva followed his fingers as he pulled away from your mouth, drool pooling up at the corners of your mouth threatening to spill out as well. Bucky slid down on the sofa next to you, pulling you up on his lap with his free hand once he settled. You rested your legs in between his before he began tugging down your pants and underwear. You followed suit, struggling before your shirt came off fully. Bucky discarded the clothes on the floor before he moved your legs on either side of him. Your member sprung free, plopping up against your belly, making you shudder as the cold air hit your sensitive tip. You looked down, watching as some of your precum ended up leaking on your stomach. Bucky brought his lubed up fingers in front of him and spat on them as well before he lifted your hips slightly. He moved his hand to spread your cheeks, letting a slick finger circle your entrance. He spent a good few minutes riling you up, the seemingly endless teasing never ending. "Hah- Mm.." You tried to moan out in disappointment as he stopped moving, but the noise got stuck in your throat, leaving you even more frustrated. "Please, Buck.. please touch me." You leaned your head against his shoulder, drawing out a lengthy whine into his ear. "I don't think you deserve any of that, though, do you?" He tutted at your words and stopped moving his hand, "Dumb brats don't get their way. They have to deal with what they get." You huffed out in protest as he spoke, "M'not a dumb brat!" You gave his chest a light slap, laying your hand flat against it. Bucky hummed in response and turned your head to face him, "You sure are acting like one right now." As he finished scolding you, he started moving his fingers again —this time pushing his slick digits into you, slowly stretching you out. The sudden contact made you jolt forward, and your hands gripped onto his shirt tightly, knuckles almost turning white. Bucky watched you slowly unravel in front of him as he started to increase his pace. You threw your head back, whining loudly every time his fingers brushed against your prostate, threatening your body to climax early. He moved his cold, metal arm from your waist and wrapped it around your cock, starting to pump it with a steady pace. The added pressure made you keel over, laying your head against his chest as he kept pumping his fingers into you. The second you tried to show that you were close, he would suddenly stop and pull his fingers out, watching as your frustration grew. Tears began forming in your eyes from the teasing, spilling over as you looked at him, making you feel pure defeat. Bucky smirked, pleased with the state he had put you in. He leaned forward, placing small kisses on your cheek until he reached your lips, capturing them in a deep, salty kiss. You kissed him back, sniffling softly as he pulled away from you. He bucked up against you and nodded to the free space on the sofa, motioning for you to lie down. Once you had switched positions, you watched as Bucky moved to get up. You frantically reached out for him, not expecting him to walk away from you like this. He looked down at you and tsked, lifting his index finger and shaking it at you. "Come on, you gotta be more patient than that." He sounded disappointed again, making you wince at your sudden reaction. You curled into the leather sofa, hands at either side of your face. "You can't seriously believe that I'm done with you right now. Not when you're behaving like that." His voice echoed through the room as he walked out to get something. You felt the sofa dip as he returned and nestled between your legs. The familiar sound of a belt jingling piqued your interest, making you look over. Bucky came back with a bottle of lube in his hand, ready to prep both of you. He undid his pants and let his cock spring free, looking over to see you staring at him through heavy lids. A low groan snapped you out of it, your eyes following his hands, watching as he stroked his cock and lubed it up. Cars driving outside the apartment illuminated the room through your windows, letting you see all of Bucky for a few seconds, taking in the sight in front of you greedily. The way he threw his head back and the way his hand would occasionally twitch as he pumped himself was intoxicating. Bucky pulled his hand away from his cock and reached out for your waist, pulling you up on his lap before he lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself in, getting all of his cock to fill you up, growling as you squirmed. His thrusts started out slow and steady, your moans spurring him on. He brought your legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as his thrusts turned harsher, almost feral. The room's silence was replaced by the sound of your erratic moans and skin slapping against skin. "Hands up over your head." Bucky suddenly huffed out, never ceasing his ruthless pounding. When you didn't respond, he decided to lean forward, bending your legs until he was close enough to your face. You gasped as his position switched, his cock pushing even deeper inside of you. His hand pinned yours above your head, holding onto your wrists tightly as he kept rutting into you. A loud whine escaped you as you tried glancing down at your neglected cock, wanting to relieve the pressure building up in your abdomen. Bucky noticed your shifting attention, tutting at you as he leaned back up, grabbing onto your hips. "Why don't you be a good whore and cum without touching yourself, hm?" It was more of an order than a question, and you bitterly agreed, trying to relax your arms as Bucky kept fucking you into the sofa like a toy. The assault on your prostate resumed, sending waves of pleasure through your body, cock twitching impatiently the closer you got. After the first time you came, you tried to sit up, expecting him to finish up as well. But you got pulled down into the cushions again, being stared down by an annoyed Bucky. He shook his head at you and kept thrusting. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to steady himself as much as he possibly could with you clenched around him. You nodded frantically and quickly moved your hands down, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, hoping he wouldn't complain. Luckily he didn't, being too preoccupied with fucking you senseless and milking you dry. Drilling into you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. His hips snapped into yours aggressively, cock burying itself deeper in your ass, prodding at your prostate without mercy. After what felt like an eternity of being relentlessly pounded into and being brought to climax several times, you suddenly broke. "Hah, too much..." You moaned out, back arching off the couch and pushing you into Bucky. "It hurts, pl-ease!" Bucky ignored your cries, his pace increasing any time you started whining. He watched your cock twitch as he found your sweet spot again, moaning as you clenched around his shaft. You felt the familiar pressure build up in your abdomen again, pushing yourself off the couch with your elbows as you came for the nth time. Your red, sensitive tip rubbed up against your stomach, making you hiss and whine. Bucky suddenly slowed down, watching for your reaction. He heard you breathe out in relief, beginning to tear up and moving your hands to cover your face. A low chuckle escaped him, and he started thrusting into you again, reaching out for your cock as well. He pressed his palm against your tip, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing. You gasped, letting out a string of curse words and cries, the overstimulation completely taking over your body. "I can't do... it, please." You managed to choke out in between sobs and broken moans. Clenching around his cock, you looked at him through your blurred vision, tears rolling down your burning cheeks. Your hands flew down and grabbed onto Bucky, digging your nails into his forearm, begging him for mercy. Bucky grunted from the pain of your grip and started to pump your cock in retaliation, your sharp cries making him shiver. He began thrusting into you again, the mixture of pleasure and pain making you roll your eyes back, mouth hanging open. He dragged a finger over your stomach, coating his hand with your cum before he spread it on your member, revelling in the way your shaking body reacted to him. His free arm grabbed onto your waist, angling you on him before he began drilling into you again, prodding at your prostate again. Your eyes found his, watching as his face suddenly twisted. Bucky's grip on your cock never relaxed; instead, he started to pump your shaft faster as his thrusts became sloppy and erratic. Bucky looked down, watching your fucked out face, before he leaned over you, releasing into you with a loud groan. He snapped his hips up, pushing to stay deep inside of you. You felt his cock twitch, his release making you shiver and cry out in relief. It pushed you to release for the last time, hips snapping up into the air as pain wracked your body, cock painting your torso and covering you in cum. Bucky thrust into you one last time before he pulled out, trying to steady his breath before he wriggled his arm out of your grip and tucked his cock back into his pants. He watched as your body shook, not being able to calm down fully. His suit and shirt came off, and he kneeled down on the floor next to you, wiping both of you off carefully with his shirt. He let it fall to the floor, scooting over to you and placing his cold hand on your cheek, stroking away tears that rolled down your face. A pang of guilt surged through his body as you looked down at him, eyes puffy and wet. You turned and flashed him a sad smile, breathing heavily into your shoulder. His hand reached out behind your head, grabbing onto a blanket that he luckily had placed on the sofa before, bunching it up in his arms as he got up. Bucky returned to the couch and bent over you, helping you sit up. He wrapped his arms around you securely, making an attempt to prop you up against the backrest. You laid limp in his arms, still trying to catch your breath through quiet tears. You watched as he pulled out the blanket, spreading it out and wrapping it around your shaking body, hushing your cries. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." He whispered soothingly and rubbed your back,

"Good boy, taking it all so well." Watching as you reached out a hand shakily, he took it in his, rubbing his thumb over your skin. Your breathing began to even out, eyes following Bucky's as his arms went under your legs and around you, scooting you over into his lap. He hugged your body closely, moving his head to kiss away the tears staining your cheeks. His right hand made its way up to your face, cupping your cheek and tucking your head under his chin. A loud hiss left you as your inner thigh brushed up against your still sensitive member, causing you to twitch and tense up. "Still hurts..." A quiet whine left you as you mumbled against the fabric, arching your back awkwardly. "...I'm all messy." Bucky grimaced and gave your side a gentle squeeze in an attempt to shift your focus. "I know, I know. It's gonna be hurting for a while, but you need to try to relax." He sighed deeply and peered down at you, "I'm not leaving until you can get up on your own." You hummed in response, snuggling into his lap, trying to stop shaking. A sudden feeling of anxiety bubbled up as you felt Bucky move until you realised that he was just trying to lay down with you on top of him. Your legs moved around, trying to find a comfortable position before you finally settled, hands grabbing onto the blanket and bringing it up to your face. Bucky brought his hand up from your waist and placed it on the back of your head, fingers massaging your scalp. He watched closely as your eyelids fluttered shut, making him sigh in relief. "I love you," His voice was soft and loving, barely above a whisper. "Such a good and patient boy, huh? Always holding out for me." He was finally praising you, making your stomach bubble up with pride. You lifted up a finger silently in acknowledgement and wiggled it around, listening to Bucky's soft chuckles in response as your mind began to cloud, leading you into a well-deserved slumber, your body ceasing its trembling.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky x reader #bucky x male reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #marvel x male reader #marvel smut #male reader insert

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weekend-conspiracy-theorist · 2 years ago

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A needlessly self-indulgent Tim and Steph role swap AU. Sort of.

"There's definitely something hinky going on here," Barbara told Jason. She was down in the cave for the night rather than across town in her Clocktower; Alfred had requested her presence for dinner earlier that night. He'd requested Jason's, too, and having Barb around to sweeten the pot had almost tempted him. There had been genuine regret in his voice when he declined.

Her red hair wasn't bright under the lights near the Batcomputer, not exactly, but it was vibrant, and the screens flashed over her glasses in an intimidating show of blankness. What the rest of them needed kevlar and voice modulators to achieve, Oracle needed only sheer presence. Jason fucking loved her.

"Told you," he grunted. His helmet was tucked under his arm, domino already tossed aside for the night. He stepped up next to her, dropping a hand to squeeze her shoulder briefly, and he could feel the smug satisfaction rolling off of her as she deliberately didn't glance over towards Bruce, who was hunched over grappling gun repairs at the main table and trying very hard to pretend he wasn't jealous of their easy comaradarie.

Up on the screen in front of them were two pictures--the young, pale face of the private-investigator-in-training who'd been bugging the shit out of the Red Hood for the last few nights, hounding him about help on a case, and the neutrally attractive, mid-fifties PI who was supposedly responsible for the kid. Newspaper clippings, police files, birth certificates, and a copy of both the PI's investigator's license and the intern's training contract surrounded the pictures.

"The kid's barely old enough to be out of high school," Jason said, darkly. "I dunno what the fuck this guy is thinking letting him run around unsupervised."

Unsupervised, and with a fucking attitude. The kid clearly didn't have a very high opinion of the Red Hood, despite his uncompromising assertions that whatever he was working on was going to require his assistance, and still, somehow, he couldn't seem to catch the hint that Jason wasn't interested.

(Actually, that wasn't quite true. Jason knew the kid had caught the hint. He just didn't seem inclined to let the hint stop him, and he was both annoyingly sneaky and frighteningly good at guessing where Jason was going to pop up each night. It was fucking annoying.)

Barbara hummed neutrally, rather pointedly not saying anything about the number of teenagers they'd had running solo around the Gotham underworld over the years, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's just the tip of the iceberg," she informed him, and she sounded much more interested now than she had when Jason had initially asked her to dig up information on the PI firm.

She flicked quickly through several police reports, her green eyes sharp as she studied them. "First of all, the kid seems to be pretty much the only one doing any real leg work for Red Bird Investigators. Draper's the one who handles digital communications with the police, and he's handled the press whenever their cases get enough attention to require it, but every time Red Bird shows up in an actual police report, it always seems to be Drake that they've run into."

Barbara paused rather than compete with the roar of a motorcycle as Batgirl came racing into the cave after her patrol, and she dropped a hand to the wheel of her chair so she could turn slightly, fixing a critical eye on her protegé.

Stephanie was rolling her eyes even as she pushed back the cowl. "Not a scratch on me," she yelled, hand cupped around her mouth, and flatly ignored the disapproving look that Bruce shot her. She'd been even more of an independent operator than either of the Robins that had proceeded her, and Jason knew it rankled for Bruce that she submitted so much more willingly to Barb's authority than his own.

"Just some nasty bruises then," Barbara said sardonically, voice pitched only a little louder than normal. The cave was quiet enough that that was all it took; Stephanie definitely heard her, but all she did was grin. It involved a lot of teeth.

Jason liked Stephanie, a lot. It was easier with her than it was with Dick or Bruce or even Barb, without any baggage between them from his previous life--despite the fact that there was plenty of baggage from this one. Luckily, Stephanie seemed to have decided against holding a grudge over his murder attempt at about the same moment as she'd fought through broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder to bash his face in with one of the steel chairs in the Titans' dining room.

They'd both laid there panting for a moment, Jason's vision swimming with the nastiest concussion he'd ever received, and called something of a truce. It was the last time he'd made the mistake of thinking Stephanie Brown was any less of a threat just because she'd lost a grip on her bo staff.

Jason shot her a lazy, two-fingered wave, and Stephanie fluttered her fingers back as she headed for the lockers. She was wasting no time, halfway to the door and already shedding her armor to reveal a sweat-soaked white tank top and a Green Arrow sports bra.

Bruce looked even more sour than he had a minute ago. Stephanie's reflection in the locker room door, just before she yanked it open, was bright with mischief.

Jason shook his head, trying not to look as amused as he felt, and turned back to the screen. "Okay, so Draper's... what? Riding his intern's coattails? Seems like a risky gamble to put a private investigation firm in the hands of a twelve year old."

"Drake's twenty," Barbara informed him.

"No fucking way," Jason said, flatly. Twelve was a joke, obviously, but--

"His identity, I can confirm," Barbara said, a delicate stress on the first word, and Jason's attention sharpened. So did Bruce's, over in Jason's periphery. Jason could tell by the sudden tension in his shoulders, even if his hands didn't falter as they fiddled with the retraction mechanism of the grappling gun.

"Mind your own business, old man," Jason shot over his shoulder, and Bruce just grunted.

Barbara turned fully back to the Batcomputer, and her long fingers flew across the keyboard as she pulled up a bunch of seemingly unimportant bits of paperwork. "Whoever put Draper's identity together did a good job. They covered their bases--school records, hospital records, employment records, even a social media presence, and all of it pretty convincingly done."

"Unless you're Oracle," Jason said.

Barb's lips twitched. "Unless you're me," she agreed. "Draper's identity would pass muster for most every legal entity that went poking around, but there's some small evidence of it all being faked."

"Is Red Bird some kind of front?" Jason asked, frowning. His eyes flicked over all of the records Barbara had pulled up, more for the sake of having something to do as his mind churned than out of the expectation of spotting something in just a few seconds that Barbara hadn't already seen. "Money laundering, maybe a blackmail operation?"

"I'm not sure yet," Barbara admitted. "Their hourly rates as a firm are shockingly low; it's pulling a lot of attention from your end of the city, attracting the kinds of clients who can't usually afford to hire a private investigator, and they seem to be doing good work. Tracking down missing kids, recovering stolen items, turning evidence over to the cops-- notably only to reputable ones-- when they turn up anything especially nasty or organized." She rolled her eyes. "Not to mention catching plenty of cheating husbands. But that can pretty much all be attributed to Drake; whatever else his boss may be caught up in, I'm confident he's not aware of it.

"I haven't done a deep dive yet. Right now," Barb said, as Batgirl reemerged from the locker room in a pair of sweats, chugging a bottle of water as she took the stairs two at a time up to the platform where Jason and Barbara were talking, "all I can tell you with certainty is that Alvin Draper isn't who he says he is."

Stephanie choked on her water, the bottle crashing to the floor as she spluttered and pounded on her own chest. "Did you just say Alvin Draper?" she managed to grind out, those dark blue eyes of hers wide with surprise, and Jason snapped around to look at her.

So did Barbara and Bruce.

"You know him?" Jason asked sharply.

Stephanie was staring up at the screen, her eyes darting over the information Barbara had pulled up, and then she made a strangled noise. For a second, Jason thought she was choking again--

Except then she was laughing so hard that she had to drop to a crouch, one hand on the railing to keep herself from tipping over completely when her foot slipped in the puddle of water still leaking from her bottle.

"Oh my god," she wheezed. "This is--Oh my god. I can't believe him--"

"Stephanie, if you wouldn't mind sharing the joke, please," Barbara said, a warning note in her voice, and Stephanie hiccuped, wiping tears off of her face.

"Yeah," she managed after a moment, pulling herself to her feet and breaking off in another choked off laugh. "Yeah, you could say I'm a little familiar with--yeah." She snickered, swiping at her cheeks again. "Uh, so, Tim Drake's the annoying creep who's been bothering you the last couple of nights, huh?" she asked Jason. Her voice sounded like Christmas, Hanukkah, and her birthday had all come at once.

"You know Drake, too?" Barbara asked. Her expression was flinty. "You never mentioned anything about working with any PIs."

Stephanie subsumed another giggling fit, talking more to herself than to them. "I should've fucking--oh my god, I should've known it was him as soon as Jason said he was a bit of a stalker." She took a deep breath, managing to get her voice more or less back to normal, and gestured dismissively at Babs. "I've mentioned him, just not by name. A lot falls under the category of 'trusted contacts.'" She wiped her eyes again, calming down even further. "Red Bird isn't some kind of criminal front," she promised. "And Alvin Draper is just-- well, okay, Tim is--"

She seemed suddenly cagey, her chin turning as if to glance over her shoulder at Bruce before she aborted the motion. "Okay," she said, and it was that casual, placating tone of voice that all of the Robins had perfected at one time or another. The "Really, Batsy, it's not that big of a deal" voice. Jason had never actually heard her use it before--by the time he'd reentered the scene, Stephanie wasn't the least bit shy about flaunting her disregard for Bruce's opinions.

"Okay, if I hadn't been caught so off guard I totally would not have handled this conversation this way," Stephanie told Barbara. "If I'm going to be honest, I did not intend to ever have this conversation. Tim would have given me away at my theoretical future wedding without a single one of you having any idea how we even knew each other. He'd probably have done it wearing a stupid wig and calling himself Maurice."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. Bruce was no longer pretending to be focused on anything else, a frown line etched firmly across his forehead.

Jason had no idea where this was going.

"Absolutely no chance you can just take my word for it and drop your suspicions about Red Bird?" Stephanie asked hopefully.

"Not in the fucking slightest," Jason told her.

Stephanie pressed her palms together and leaned her fingers against her lips for a moment, thinking, and then she dropped them, still far too casual to actually be casual. "I should set the stage for a second, because none of what I'm about to say is going to make sense if I just dive into it," she admitted, hands on her hips. "Jason, you know what what everyone-- what Bruce, specifically-- says about my reputation as Robin, right?"

"Ferocious," Jason said immediately. "Clever. Scrappy. Compassionate."

A smile twitched at the corners of Stephanie's eyes, but she told him, dryly, "Actually, the word I was thinking of was 'insubordinate.'"

Barbara rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, suddenly looking exhausted. Bruce, in the background, looked vaguely like he wanted to argue, but didn't actually have much of an argument to make.

"I mean, I've always been the master of back talk to the B-man," Stephanie said, and her expression-- her tone-- was somewhere between pride and guilt. "And I frequently ignored any and all instructions to keep my nose out of certain cases, unless I was given really, really thorough and convincing reasons why I should leave them alone. So yeah, my time as Robin was characterized by a lot of flaunting the rules."

She took a breath. "But the thing is that even with all of that," she said delicately, "Bruce does not actually know even a third of what I got up to as Robin."

Bruce finally spoke up. "I know more than you think I do," he said, with just a hint of amusement in his tone. "You found a lot of counsel in Barbara, thinking it was behind my back. She handled plenty of mishaps for you, but she certainly didn't keep as many of your secrets as you might have hoped. I didn't mind, since you were confiding in someone."

"Sorry, kid," Barb said.

"Yeah," Stephanie said impatiently, "I know Babs was ratting on me. I knew it then, too. Which is why I leaned on the fact that you all saw me as just a little bit silly when it came to boys, and I fed Oracle a number of thrillingly believable lies about sneaking around on patrol to make out with Boyfriend, without ever mentioning that Boyfriend was also a detective savant with a corkboard conspiracy map of the city and a freakazoid obsession with stalking mobsters and crime lords with his insanely expensive long distance night vision camera."

Jason blinked.

Bruce said, "What."

Stephanie shrugged. "I mean, we did also do a lot of making out, it was just usually on top of a rooftop across the street from some dudes whose noses I was about to break. Which, before you say anything about endangering civilians, I did all the muscle work; I never let Boyfriend anywhere near the fighting, even though he's been taking a bunch of martial arts lessons since middle school.

"And," she added sharply, cutting off Bruce's response, "before you say anything about endangering myself, I'd like you to remember that it's only been two weeks since the Ex-Robins Union collectively negotiated for amnesty regarding cases that occured during our days in the pixie boots, and if you break the terms of the contract in under a month then the Extreme Penalty Subclause is activated and Dick, Jay, and I get to decide on our response. Suggestions have included an official Titans Gotham team and the Outlaws getting open season on the Joker."

Stephanie and Jason high-fived as Bruce's mouth slowly shut.

"I told you that signing that contract without reading it was a bad idea," Barbara sighed. "Dick was being way too nonchalant about the whole thing."

Stephanie turned back to Jason and Barbara and waved a hand at the Batcomputer. "This is relevant because Tim Drake is Boyfriend, if this room full of detectives hadn't already made that leap," she told them. "Alvin Draper's one of his favorite aliases. He did not tell me about this because he knows how much fun I am going to make of him, but I know how that batshit little brain of his works, and that guy--" She jerked her chin at the alleged picture of Alvin Draper-- "is definitely an actor Boyfriend hired to pretend to be his boss. Hacking the New Jersey PI database and issuing himself a license is easy enough, but convincing anyone he's actually old enough to be in possession of it is literally impossible with that baby face of his." Stephanie mimed squinching his cheeks together.

"Which, for the record, fucking classic Boyfriend move, right here," she added, grinning. "He once hired a fake uncle to be his legal guardian when his parents died and he was too young for the judge to consider emancipating him."

Jason had no idea what was going on in Bruce or Barb's brains because they both appeared to be blue screening a bit, but all he could think was that it was official: Stephanie was hands down Jason's favorite Bat.

"You hid a whole ass vigilante from Batman for like six years," he said wonderingly.

Stephanie snorted. "Not a vigilante," she corrected dryly. "Boyfriend has no interest in dressing up in tights or kicking people's teeth in; he just likes detective work and hates cops. He mostly just does a lot of sitting on rooftops taking surveillance photos." She obviously couldn't resist adding, smugly, "But yeah, more or less. Cass couldn't even kiss Superboy without Bruce knowing about it, meanwhile I practically had Boyfriend hidden under my cape on every solo stakeout for a year straight, and no one ever noticed." She tapped a finger on the side of her nose, raising her eyebrows. "No small part of why I've refused to ever live in the Manor or the Clocktower."

"This is the first and only time I will ever acknowledge that the people who call you the greatest Robin have even a single leg to stand on," Jason told her.

She gave him a nod, lips twitching.

"That's probably why Boyfriend's being such a little bitch about working with you, by the way." Stephanie leaned back against the railing and crossed her arms over her chest. Her scars stood out, stark, over the bulge of her biceps. "You used to be his favorite Robin, but then you came back from the dead and tried to kill his ex. He took it pretty personal." She made scare quotes, rolling her eyes and pitching her voice up an octave mockingly. "'It's my responsibility to hold a grudge since you have no intentions of doing it yourself, Stephanie.'"

She shook her head, her tone suddenly serious as she added, "I couldn't begin to guess his motivations in trying to drag you of all people into one of his cases, but it's gotta be something important. I'd hear him out next time he approaches you."

"You trust him? Trust his judgement?" Jason knew she did, she'd pretty much just admitted that Drake was aware of her identity, but it still seemed prudent to ask.

"As implicitly as I trust Cass," Stephanie told him immediately.

High praise, Jason knew, but he could tell it wasn't all she had to say on the matter.

Stephanie was very still for a moment, her gaze flicking to meet Bruce's in the reflection of the metallic plating at the edge of the Batcomputer, and then she met Jason's once more. Her voice was quiet but steady as she told him, "You weren't here for it, but I know you know the gist of what happened during War Games, and that I've always been vague about how I got away from Black Mask. Nobody ever pushed because they thought it was just the trauma fogging my memory, and yeah, that's part of it, but keeping Boyfriend safe from the fallout was the other part. I didn't somehow manage to break myself out after Mask left me for dead; Tim tracked me down. He got me to Leslie."

Barbara sucked in a breath, sharp, through her nose. A muscle ticked in Stephanie's jaw. And Jason had never before seen that expression on Bruce's face when the subject of conversation had nothing to do with an explosion in Ethiopia.

Jason whistled, low and slow.

"So, yeah," Stephanie managed, a little stiff. "I trust him. He's an obsessive, scheming little weirdo as I'm sure you noticed, Jay, but it's all part of the charm. He's a brilliant detective, and he cares so much about everything. We've always make a good team; he's good at seeing the whole picture, I'm good at seeing the people in it." She grinned, wicked. "Plus, he taught me how to skateboard."

Barbara snorted at that, then immediately looked annoyed at herself, but Stephanie was already fist-pumping.

"I'm not gonna lie, despite my years long efforts to keep all of this a secret, I'm excited to finally talk about Boyfriend as something other than the abstract concept of my best friend who none of you except Cass were completely certain existed," she said cheerfully.

"Cassandra knew about this?" Bruce asked.

Jason was pretty certain that the threat of invoking the ERU contract was the only reason the Bat was managing to stay so calm. Collective bargaining worked, people.

"I have never successfully kept a secret from Cass in my life," Stephanie said, ruefully. "I'm fucked when she takes over Batman."

"And everyday of interacting with you pushes Bruce closer to that retirement," Barbara told her dryly. "I'm still processing this, Stephanie, so I'm not going to get on your case tonight, but you know that your union will not protect you from me. We will be having a conversation about what other secrets you've been keeping."

"Considering that your vigilante career began and ended entirely outside of--well, anyone's supervision, not sure you have a leg here, Barb," Jason pointed out.

"There's a reason I'm your protegé now," Stephanie said cheerfully, as her voice cracked on a yawn. "Anyway, I need to scoot. I can text you Tim's number if you want it, Jay."

"Yeah," Jason sighed. "Sure. I guess I'm probably never getting rid of him if even your annoying personality hasn't managed to drive him off sometime in the last six years."

Stephanie flipped him off, rolling her eyes, but she was laughing under breath as she leaned down to pick up her water bottle. "Oh," she said, far too casual once more, as she found some papertowels to use to dry up the puddle. "There is one more thing I should probably tell you guys about Tim."

"He's a vampire," Jason guessed, just as casual. He kept her in his periphery, sensing immediately that this was something that the Ex-Robins Union contract was not going to cover.

"Nope." She bundled up the dripping paper towels and walked over to toss them in the trash. The movement took her closer to the stairs up to the Manor.

Neither Bruce nor Babs had apparently gotten any better at recognizing the signs of a shifty Robin than they had been before the revelations of the last ten minutes, so it's up to Jason to abruptly dart between her and the stairs, cutting off her escape route.

"What do we need to know about Tim, Replacement?" he asked, pleasantly, as he loomed over her. Batgirl was a bad ass, undoubtedly, but Jason had three inches and at least fifty pounds of muscle on her. Plus, he was still in his body armor.

"Ah," Stephanie said, clapping her hands together, and Bruce finally seemed to clue in to the fact that he was really not going to like the next words that came out of her mouth.

"What did you do?" he asked flatly.

"I did not do anything," Stephanie fired back immediately. "It was Dick, actually, and the thing he did was a quadruple somersault that only three people in the world can do, or whatever. Notably," she said, thumb and forefinger pinched together as she took a step forward, away from Jason and away from the stairs, "Dick Grayson, of the Flying Graysons, can do that somersault. And, my, what did a nine-year-old Timothy Jackson Drake see on the news one morning, except Robin the Boy Wonder doing that exact same somersault."

"You're fucking kidding," Barbara said.

"Yeah," Steph said. "Tim knows the secret identities of literally every single vigilante in Gotham, even the ones not connected to us. It's a hobby of his."

And then she pivoted, the space she'd gained from that step forward giving her enough room to dive under Jason's arm and come up sprinting as she took the stairs three at a time.

now continued

#tim drake #stephanie brown #I wrote this #I think that was my tag? whatever #this is pretty much just wildly self-indulgent musings about what it might look like #if Steph became Robin III and Tim therefore had no motivation to join the batfamily #and I thought this would be the funniest way to explain it #also ft. the truly hilarious concept of an ex-robins union #also war games definitely didn't go down exactly as it did in the comics but I'm i no mood to hash out details #I would be down to write more in this universe but also I have no interest in writing casefic so I will probably never touch it again #I just had this scene in my head and needed to get it out

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foundmywei · 2 years ago

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Iwaoi Fanfic Recs

Here are my favorite iwaoi fics! I haven't read any in a while and I unfortunately didn't start making this list back in the old days when I read more but I do have plenty of them saved. (I know some of them are classics but I couldn't not include them) Enjoy!

Masterpost

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol)

(66,307 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 3/3)

post-anime-canon

Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

we shine like diamonds by whitemiists

(26,733 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant

Oikawa is nine when he first hears the word. The boys on the playground whisper it like it's dirty, like the way they daringly mutter the wordfuckand then look over their shoulders to check their parents hadn't heard.

"You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is...gay."

Six-Month Lover by afuzzyowl

(89,000 words | Explicit | Chapters: 17/17)

post-anime-canon

Iwaizumi barks out a laugh. “I’m still trying to get over the fact that you made a PowerPoint presentation about why we should date.” Oikawa doesn’t tell him the file has existed for the last twelve years, constantly receives updates, and that the original copy contained almost a hundred slides before he forced himself to get a grip.

Moments in Oikawa’s journey to win over his best friend’s love: the sad, the happy, and everything in between.

Not Quite What You Planned by MellowWrites

(42,990 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 17/17)

kinda-soulmate AU

It seemed pretty simple and it made sense to those who bought it, but the actual science behind it was complicated and far too lengthy to comprehend. But the point of the TiMER was simple - a digital clock that would count down to the exact day you met your soulmate.

That was the ideal romantic future Tooru had grown up with.

you're looking like you fell in love tonight by anyadisee

(34,930 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

college AU, fake dating

“So, let me see if I understood this correctly,” Hajime says, slow and careful like he’s still waiting for some kind of punchline. “You want me to help Oikawa Tooru, a guy I barely know, because your boyfriend owes him a favor?”

“And you owe me a favor,” Hanamaki adds helpfully.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Sure it does.” Hanamaki’s smile widens. “Issei and I are practically the same person by now, anyway, so whatever favor you owe me, you also owe him. And by repaying me, you are repaying him, and in turn he is repaying Oikawa. Think of it as, like, the transitive property of equality. A equals B equals C. A equals C.”

“I know what the transitive property of equality is,” Hajime snaps.

[in which iwaizumi pretends to be oikawa's boyfriend.]

darlin', your head's not right by aruariandance

(13,658 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

post-anime-canon

“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”

Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.

“I was thinking our Aoba johsai colors to go for more, you know, softer tones? Besides, I’ve always looked great in that sea foam green color. Oh, and I guess you look decent in it, too.” He grins, saccharine sweet, and Iwaizumi has never been so tempted to knock one of his perfect pearly white teeth right out of his stupid mouth."

or,

Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.

but you'd be so fun to date by fliick

(11,709 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

college AU, fake dating

“It’d just be for tomorrow,” Tooru explains rapidly, “You just have to, like, hold my hand for a while or something. Nothing big.” Iwa huffs with poorly measured aggravation, “I’m not gonna pretend to be your boyfriend, Oikawa. What the hell even happened for you to say something like that?”

closure by thelittlebirdthattoldyou

(21,999 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)

post-anime-canon

"Iwaizumi," Wakatoshi says. "You love him." Oikawa freezes. “Hm? Don't be stupid, Ushiwaka-chan.” “It is not my place to intrude into your personal relationships -“ “It really isn’t,” Oikawa agrees.

In his first year of university, Oikawa builds a new friendship and upgrades an old one.

Or: Ushijima is not a great wingman, but he tries his best.

Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad) by sunsmasher

(19,309 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

post-anime-canon

It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

He has, however, sent Iwaizumi tickets for the 2024 Los Angeles Summer Games.

“So go,” says Matsukawa's voice. “It’s only a few weeks. You’ve got a whole city to hide in if it gets awkward, and if it doesn’t get awkward, well…” It’s like watching the future reconfigure, like being in high school again, watching team after team fall to Oikawa’s faultless planning and shameless charm. “I’ll get to watch a whole lot of volleyball,” Hajime says, and resigns himself to fate and/or Oikawa Tooru. “Hey, when you get there, can you bag a gymnast for me?” Hanamaki asks, and Matsukawa squawks.

Catalyst by Jya, ShatteredEpiphany

(11,175 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, set in high-school

To Oikawa, being injured is the worst possible fate imaginable. To Iwaizumi looking after his best friend is something he can't imagine his life without. They never expected it to act as a catalyst for what they want the most in this world, nor did they expect that their dreams reflected each other's.

// takes place before the Karasuno/Seijoh practice match

When You Wish Upon a Star by emerald1963

(31,975 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 8/8)

bodyswap AU

Hajime has no idea how this situation is even possible, but he’s one hundred percent certain that it’s all Oikawa’s fault.

Oikawa blames the aliens.

The Iwaoi body swap fic that this fandom needs, if not the one it deserves.

five minutes west of irvine by birdcat

(20,371 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)

canon-compliant-ish, 2021 olympics

Or maybe it’s just the Argentinian national team shirt. In the dim, the blue could be mistaken for Seijou teal. Or the cobalt of Kitagawa Daiichi. Maybe that’s Oikawa’s cosmic trajectory, Hajime thinks—forever graduating from one shade of blue into the next.

In which Oikawa returns to Tokyo for the Olympics. In which it's been a while. In which the reunion is clumsy.

Shiver by Yuu_chi

(16,703 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon-compliant/high school & post-anime-canon

Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

10 ways iwaizumi hajime has said i love you by daisugass

(15,894 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, set in high-school

I love you's come in actions, not words.

static by blessings

(6,452 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, set in high-school

Sometimes Hajime wonders if Oikawa sees the same things he does when he looks out over their neighborhood (right now it’s two kids kicking up pebbles on their bikes, lugging backpacks filled with walkie-talkies and water bottles and alien scanners, not sure if they’re heading down to the forest or up to the river but positive that they’ll get there together). Back then he and Oikawa saw the same thing when they looked down the road – a straight shot to another adventure, if they just pedaled fast enough. Sometimes Hajime worries they stopped seeing the same thing a while ago and he never noticed.

Being snowed in with all of Seijou volleyball in his childhood home brings back a lot of memories for Iwaizumi, because it's kinda Oikawa's childhood home too.

make a bet, keep a promise by raewrites

(13,988 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, childhood to post-anime-canon

Sometimes, in still moments, Iwaizumi wonders why out of all the people on earth he ended up with Oikawa Tooru. Why it’s his face that lingers on his fading conscious in the last moments before he falls asleep, in the first blurry seconds upon waking up again. Why when he looks to his side, he expects Oikawa to be there in the same way he expects to see five fingers on both hands, a natural extension of himself, ever present.

Why he can’t imagine a future without Oikawa in it.

It begins with a bet made between the two boys in the mid-summer of their eighth year. It starts with volleyball, but like with most things involving Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, things are never quite that simple.

given by dialsoap

(15,705 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, time-skip, Argentina

Iwaizumi spends the spring break of his senior year of college visiting Oikawa in Argentina. It's the first time they've seen each other in person in ages. They sightsee, eat, sit around, bask in one other's company, talk about their futures...

They've known each other their whole lives and they've been away from home long enough that it's not quite clear where home is. This fic is about loving someone a world away and how that distance doesn't mean you love them any less. Maybe it makes the heart grow fonder, maybe it makes you grow up?

most people never even get a single high school rival by sulfate

(5,217 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

canon compliant, olympics

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Santiago sounds out. Those damn telescope eyes. “Huh. I thought his name was Iwachan?” “Is it the wrong guy?” Mateo narrows his eyes. “No, that’s definitely him, that’s the dude from Tooru’s homescreen… is it?” “Only one way to find out!” Santiago says cheerfully.

Team Argentina gets to know Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer

Learning to Walk (So That We Can Run) by ricekrispyjoints

(27,639 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

post-anime-canon

"I'm not healing like I should be."

In his second year of university, physical therapy just isn't cutting it. Oikawa's knee is getting worse, and he can't hide it anymore.

Or: the light angst, project-your-own-life-experiences-on-Oikawa knee surgery fic you didn't know you wanted.

How to deal with an emotionally stunted best friend by Iwaizumi Hajime by flaminpumpkin

(14,778 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

post-anime-canon

Iwaizumi Hajime wasn't expecting his relationship with his bestfriend to change a lot when he left for an exchange program. After all they went through, what could a bunch of kilometers do?

Oh, how wrong was he to think that.

body language by solyn

(13,917 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

oikawa and atsumu bodyswap, +sakuatsu

Atsumu leans closer, strokes over the planes of his pretty boy face, does a 360 twirl in the mirror just to confirm. Yep, still Oikawa, although he can’t possibly imagine why.

Miya Atsumu and Oikawa Tooru swap bodies. There's one giant problem, though: they've never met.

Fernweh by oikawashoyo

(19,633 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)

canon universe, set after high school

Argentina is stretching out before him, an opportunity, a challenge. He is reminded of his losses, his insecurities, his disappointments; sees them form a tall, tall wall blocking his path to success. He takes a deep breath and knows he is going to shatter it.

In which Oikawa's whole life is spent longing for the horizon — in the form of a dream, a home, and a boy.

chasing gold by skiecas

(45,049 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

set during the 2021 olympics

It’s Tokyo 2021, backdrop for the XXXII Summer Olympiad Games. Oikawa Tooru returns to Japan after a triumphant, eight-year long run as pro setter in Argentina’s professional volleyball League. And it's been just as long since Hajime watched him disappear across the oceans, maybe never to return.

On reuniting with your best friend, standing atop the world stage, and trying to catch wisps of a golden boy. An Olympic tale, one lifetime in the making.

#iwaoi #iwaoi fanfiction #oikawa tōru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu!!#hq fanfic

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primordialsquirrel · 4 years ago

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For Scientific Purposes

Finding yourself trapped by the League of Villains, you found that it wasn’t all too bad. You had been kidnapped due to your usefulness when it came to working with genetic material. At first, you didn’t understand why they needed you or any of the other scientists they had stolen away. In what part of their plan did they need someone who could work with DNA? At the time, you didn't think it was their thing. Based on what you had heard about the league through the underground, they collected people with offensive quirks and tried assimilating already villainous folks to join their ranks.

At first you believed it may have been your quirk that intrigued them. While it wasnt offensive, it was rather useful. To yourself that was. You had a self restorative quirk that allowed you to heal nearly immediately upon being injured. However, you didn’t have a very far reach as you could only speed up others healing by about a third of the normal rate.

But then you met it.

Or rather, you met them.

Being a rather.. Non-conventional scientist, the Nomu had interested you immediately upon being locked in a room with only a panel of glass to separate you from them. At the time- and with the scientists they had, there were only four Nomu. One, a tall bulky creature with a bird like beak and dark navy skin, was the most impressive of the bunch. It didn’t speak, and while you had asked just what kind of experiments and tests had been done on it, you received no response from the villains that had brought you. All they told you was that you had to find some way to make the creatures take orders.

Easier said than done.

For two weeks, you spent your days and nights trying to get through to the Nomu. Testing countless theories on how to get through to them. It wasn’t that they were missing chunks of their brain, and no damage was showing up on the MRI’s, but something else was blocking them from understanding words.

“I must be missing something.” You chew at the end of your pencil, your leg bouncing as you slowly lean back in your chair. You were in the observation room. A thick glass panel was the only thing in the way of the Nomu getting through to you. But after spending so much time poking and prodding at them, you no longer felt uneasy about them. They were more or less mindless. And as strange as it was, you were beginning to grow attached to them.

Maybe it was the lack of human contact, or maybe your brain was beginning to rot, but you were tempted to get closer to them.

You scold yourself quietly as a small coil of heat travels downward. Squeezing your legs together, you furrow your brows as you look to the thick glass panel.

All the Nomu were in their proper tanks, minus one. The navy blue Nomu, the one supposedly stronger than All Might (or so Shigaraki claims), was the only one allowed to wander outside of its tank. While the others still needed some time to develop, this one was ready to go.

It’s eyes wander from the ceiling above it to the floor, before its gaze lands on you.

You knew it.. was wrong.. but the more you stared back at it, the more you began to feel the warmth in your core grow. The Nomu’s base was human. It’s body was arranged just like a human’s.. you didn’t need to do much guessing on whether it’s nether regions were human either. Or perhaps it was no longer so human underneath?

Unable to shift your gaze away from it, you put down your pen and gradually grow still. It may have been a monstrosity, but it was rather a beautiful piece of work. Whatever the villains were planning, you wanted no part of. But if they could make something such as this, what else could their technology conjure? This was an entirely new species of being, and that thought excited you. The possibilities were endless! ...

No one was around at the moment.. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a closer look at it. Surely you could write it off as wanting to do studies on its response to outside stimuli.

You proceed toward the glass, punching in the code to enter the cage. Again, no movement from the Nomu. No sign of complex thought. Perhaps they needed something in order to make them move? Like an impulse..

It was worth a shot, wasn't it?

“Hello.” You speak softly. It turns it's body to look at you. You take this as a good sign and continue.

“Can you sit for me?” You lower yourself onto your knees to demonstrate. “Down here. Can you join me?”

It's head lowers, but it does not move. Mustering up your courage, you reach out and take hold of it's massive hand to tug it downward. “Sit.” You repeat gently, coaxing it with soft words until it finally copies you. Albeit less gracefully, it plops onto the ground in front of you.

“Good! Very good.” Your expression lights up as it tilts its head, seemingly curious at your excitement. “You're such an amazing creature.. I didn't even know this was possible..” It left you with so many questions, but it created so many possibilities as well! Who knew what kind of doors this creature opened for the scientific world. The mixing of quirks to create something to rival even the worlds strongest hero.. even outside of fighting, to build up a body to last.

With the creature once again in front of you, you couldn't help but admire its structure, and it didn't seem to mind your attentiveness to it either.

“They really put a lot of effort into you didnt they.” The Nomu watches as you run your hand along it's arm, taking its hand into your own as you feel the rough texture of it's skin. It was tough, but it had enough give to help with shock absorption, something you had noted when you were given it's file. You massage the large digits in your hands, fascinated by the way the navy skin would take on a lighter hue the more pressure you put into your touches as the force was distributed.

A low rumble catches your attention. Your head snaps upward to look at the Nomu in front of you.

It was purring.. Or something equivalent of one.

You smile giddily at your discovery. “Do you like that?” You question before continuing to massage it, moving from it's fingers to its palm. Again you are met with the low rumbling. You continue to go higher and higher until you are on your knees with your hands cupping the beginnings of its beak.

“A wondrous piece of work.” You draw your fingers along its beak and slowly sit back down.

By then, you were prepared to get up and return to your seat, your curiosity sated. But then the Nomu moved.

It reached out, and just like you, it took hold of your hands. But rather than moving up after reaching your elbows, it moved its hands to your waist and proceeded down.

Your breath hitched in your throat as it moved its hands to your hips and to your thighs, attempting to massage your body as you had with it, but it's hold was much more possessive. Its fingers kneaded into your thighs and pulled you closer to it until you sat on its lap, it's purring was a loud rumble by the time it reached the backs of your knees.

You reach up and hold the sides of its face to use it as an anchor to keep from falling backwards, but it was unnecessary for as soon as it felt you falling away, it pressed a hand to your back and held you flush against its chest.

“Ah- n-not there.” Face flushed with red, you gently push it's hand away from the apex of your thighs to where your core was beginning to drip with want.

Were you really getting excited from just holding the creature in front of you?

Much to your delight, the Nomu kept its hands away from that particular area of your body. Perhaps it simply needed more socializing in order to pick up vocal cues? It would explain why none of the Nomu understood human speech. They just needed more attention.

“I think I know how to help you now.” You beam at the Nomu that was now nuzzling its face into your neck, at least, it was attempting to. With a gentle pull at its jaw, you move its head to face you and give it a small peck on the tip of it's beak.

“I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

For scientific purposes only.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha nomu #mha nomu #nomu x reader #bnha nomu x reader #mha nomu x reader #n/s/f/w #n/s/f/w bnha #n/s/f/w mha #my fingers slipped #posted before my beta could see it qwq #no beta we die like men i guess #my beta has legal right to end me now

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settersloveletters · 5 years ago

Text

NO. 1 FAN

• part nineteen; call me daddy coach

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⤷ y/n will always go out of her way for her family, especially for her 7 year old niece, who happens to be kageyama tobio’s number one fan. what happens when the charming sweetheart, y/n, meets the emotionally null, kageyama tobio? and what happens when those two fall in love at first sight?

a/n: we’ve converted to the moon icon for kags. just to keep it consistent hahah. anyways, this is 90% shameless smut and 10% sum serious shit :)) ALSO i removed the cut for both parts cuz tumblr is being fucky wucky rn. will add them back when its normal

[!] below this is lots of smut. BOLDED TEXT IS IMPORTANT TO THE STORY [!]

➳ word count: 3k

➳ warnings: smut!!! coach-kink??? raw sex, creampie, the slightest amount of pregnancy kink and size kink.

“Hey, are you alright, baby? What’s up with that text you sent?” You greet Kageyama right when you open the door for him. Wrapping your arms around him, you give a gentle kiss on his cheek. Shutting the door behind him, he sighs as he sets his bags down and removes his shoes. “It’s nothing,” placing a kiss on your head before pulling you into the living room.

“Hm.. okay. What did you want to do today? Since, we’re all alone,” you push Kageyama onto the couch, grabbing his face and getting a good look into his eyes. Maybe it’s your mind playing games and overthinking, but he’s very tired; a distant emptiness in him.

“Anything you want, Y/n,” breaking eye contact with you to instead pull you into his embrace. Feeling your small warmth press against him eases all the stresses, tensions, doubts in his heart. You’re the medicine that heals him of all his pains.

“Sal’s not here. So you aren’t gonna get your Sunday workout..”

“Yes, and what about it?”

“How about,” clasping your hands in his, you pull him off the cushions of the couch and slowly lead him towards your bedroom, “you be my coach today?” His typical stern expression almost cracks at your words. Before he can even interject, you’ve guided him into your bedroom which is dimly lit regardless of the peak sunlight outside. Counting your frequent excursions and chill hangouts, Kageyama is very familiar with this room. The smell, the look, the plush sheets and what can be found where. It’s comfortable.

“I’m your coach for today? What are we practicing today though?” he teasingly asks, well knowing what you want. He stands in front of your bed as you lay yourself down, admiring the Adonis in the room. Far bigger, taller and stronger than you, he always has you weak at the legs and embarrassingly sore the next day. He’s also so stubborn; when he has a goal and motive, he’ll accomplish it even if it means spending that extra hour.

“Endurance training, of course,” you chuckle while copying his exact words from that first time, waiting for him to bed you. “You think this is funny?” He’s quickly making his way to the bed, finding his spot right on top of you, looking down at you with slight agitation. The more you two have fun, the bolder you two get. You’ve learned the pleasures of provoking Kageyama, teasing him, convincing him he can’t do something, just for him to come back with ten times more passion and aggression. And he’s learned how far you like being pushed, held, edged, tortured even. You have aligned perfectly with each other.

“Yes, it’s so funny, Kags,” you laugh at him again while wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you. He doesn’t budge though, instead choosing to place a firm hand on your jaw, so close to gripping your neck in the softest of squeezes. “I don’t think that’s how you address your coach.” He’s almost there.

“Oh, you liked that idea? Me calling you coach? How perverted, Kageyama,” you smirk, knowing exactly what to do to change the calm stoic boy into a man who only shows himself to you alone. And all he wants to do is to unravel you like he plans.

Kageyama doesn’t miss a beat, swiftly unbuttoning the front of your too tight top, watching the way he unwraps you like a birthday gift. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, pretty girl,” he says, low and steadily, before using both hands to rub along your body. His touch trails your exposed skin, stopping at your breasts which are hidden beneath your bra, tempting him to just strip you bare and take you right there. “Coach, take it off me.”

“You just don’t know your place today, huh?” feeling no remorse, Kageyama roughly flips you over, laying you on your stomach and wasting no time in ripping all the clothes off your body. First, that stupid bra that is the exact shade of blue he loves seeing on you, then those poor excuse of shorts that do no good at hiding that cute little behind of yours. He leaves you trembling there in his presence, and in the soaked matching red thong that hugs your hips so well.

Palming his large hands on the flesh of your ass, Kageyama lands an experimental tap, sending fiery jolts across your skin and a yelp out your lips. “Baby, I’ll give you a second chance. But if you choose to test me again,” rubbing your reddening cheek softly, “you’re not going to get your needy pussy fucked, okay?”

You would have never expected such a dork like Kageyama to have such a filthy mouth. He never fails to surprise you. Grinding back against his touch, you give him a nod in response. Face flush flat into the pillows, you have no clue what he’s doing, what his face looks like, what he’s thinking. It isn’t until both his hands grab the sides of your hip, pulling you so your ass is up, back arched.

“Well, since I’m your coach today, I think we should start with basic stretches. Sounds good?”

“Mhm, things have been feeling too tight lately, coach..”

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll help you out with that,” he stifles a laugh while reassuring his cute student. Peeling back the panties that hug your ass, removing them completely, Kageyama sits back to revel in the sight of your glistening cunt. You shiver at the feeling of the room’s draft against your exposed pussy, pulsing around nothing, much to his enjoyment. Using his thumbs, he pulls the skin of your lips apart, collecting the honey and massaging it into your sensitive skin.

“Hm, this is a tough job. I’m not sure if you’ll stretch too well. Your cunt looks too tight, doll,” Kageyama chides, giving another playful spank on your ass. You whine against the pillow, too frustrated to express your feelings through words. All you can manage to do is turn your head back, looking at him, eyes borderline glossy with tears and arousal which sends a tang straight to his heart.

“Fuck, if you look at me like that.. might just have to force it to open up. Is that what you want?” You eagerly nod in approval, slightly swaying your hips left and right to entice him all the more. The twisted thought of Kageyama, a man that towers over you, has a cock far too big for your pussy, and can physically do whatever he pleases with you, excites you two to no end.

You watch in anticipation as he gets off the bed, never breaking eye contact with each other as he tugs his shirt off. You’ve seen it more than a handful of times now, but the built structure of his body, toned muscles and all, has your mouth agape and legs shaking. He begins undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants, allowing them to drop onto the ground, leaving him in only his boxers. A visible tent already pinching the fabric at a point. He’s lowering the waistband and revealing the girth underneath, tossing the fabric aside. You never fail to rile him up, and that’s what he loves so much.

“Baby, I don’t know how many times I have to say it. But, why are you so hot?”

“I don’t know, doll. I’ll ask you the same,” he gives you the softest of smiles.

Getting on the bed again, Kageyama leans in against you, trailing warm kissing on the surface of your back, along your spine and stopping at your sensitive neck.

“We haven’t kissed at all today, did you notice?” claiming a long kiss on the nape of your neck, leaving a light bruise that has you getting chills across your skin. He slightly bucks his hips against yours, loving the way his cock brushes against your soothing touch.

“‘Course I noticed. I tried, but you wouldn’t let me..” you respond in a meek tone, which has him flipping you around, face to face once again. Looking into your hazed gaze, Kageyama inches closer before locking his lips with yours. Gentle lips that kiss him back, and tongues connecting sensually. Occasionally gasping for air, you two engage in kisses, both kind and devilish, for what seems to be a full lifetime.

Without even realizing it, Kageyama begins rubbing his fingers along your slit, lips muffling your sudden squeak. His cold digits collect your love juices, before using a single finger to probe your entrance. Your hips involuntarily grind against him, voice humming for more, for him to give you more.

“Doll, gotta take things slow. I don’t want to hurt you, okay?” he asserts, using his non-dominant hand to pet your hair in comforting strokes. Steadily moving his finger in and out of your pussy, he indulges in quiet flutters of your walls around him, the way you tighten whenever he looks into your eyes, or breaths against your tender skin. “Coach, another, please?”

“I call the shots here. I’ll know when you’re ready.”

“Hm, but your fingers always feel so good in me. I can’t handle it anymore,” you praise, hitting those happy nerves in his brain.

“Fine. Don’t complain to me after for being sore,” he spits before forcing another cold finger into you, pushing satisfyingly deep. “Yes, coach. Won’t complain,” you gasp through the thrusts of his fingers. Your blissed face has Kageyama growing painfully hard and in need for your heat to finally engulf him. His two fingers turn into three, make audible noises as he scissors and pulls in and out, stretching you just like your coach promised.

Kageyama’s aching for your touch at this point, so without question, he removes his digits, inspecting the honey-like accumulation of love that coats his fingers. “Nice and wet for him, huh?” he teasingly comments, and all you can do is squint your eyes back at him, with your typical bratty attitude. He firmly grabs at your jaw again as a warning, knowing he’s given far too many chances for your insolent behaviour, but can never fully bear torturing or punishing you because his love is just that strong.

“Okay, get up. You’re doing glute workouts now that you’re properly stretched.”

“W-what?” you stutter, genuinely believing he was serious. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to make you follow through. Kageyama moves your body aside, only to take your spot and sit up against your bed’s headboard. Tilting his head to look at you with those piercing eyes, “C’mon, it’s no time for a break. Ride me.”

“Ka- coach..” you lugg yourself up so you can seat yourself in his lap, arms wrapping around his neck to support yourself in the new position. Seeing you breathless without even putting it in you has Kageyama flustered and his heart beating. You grab his girth and rub it against your entrance, not yet putting it in. “You’re okay with doing it raw today?” he grabs onto your waist, before you can lower yourself any further, reassuring you were okay with this. This vulnerable feeling, this closeness both you and him share, you were fine with doing anything as long as it’s with him.

Weaving your fingers through his dark locks, you look Kageyama in the eyes, “Yes, my love. It’s a safe day, so let’s have some fun, yeah?” Engaging in one last kiss, he allows you to lower down onto the head of cock, the stinging stretch of your walls around him. The feeling of your bare pussy squeezing against his cock has Kageyama bucking his hips, in desperation to feel more.

“Hey there, you gotta start moving. This is still part of our training,” urging you to take him deeper, to which you do. Inch by inch, you relax yourself onto his length, down down down until all eight inches are buried within you. Kageyama grunts, wallowings in the tightness of your heat wrapped graciously around his cock. You whine loudly against his neck, too overwhelmed over the intrusive size inside you.

“C-coach, why is your cock so big?” moaning as you raise your hips slowly, allowing him to feel every rib of your walls hug his shaft. His face grows redder at your words, and you swear he grows just a tiny bit harder too. “Don’t say those types of things to m-”

“Fuck, it reaches so damn deep, baby. Feels so fucking good, oh my god,” interrupting him, you continue your obscensent sighs and praise as your hips build a steady rhythm. Rolling your hips, you grind against all the good parts while continuing to give him the steady satisfying friction for his cock. Kageyama’s given up on trying to talk to you, or scold you, instead leaking quiet whines and less than quiet moans. “Why don’t you try fucking me now, huh? I’m getting tir-�� A firm strike to your ass cuts you off mid sentence as Kageyama firmly grabs onto your hips, setting his own pace now.

“How does it feel to be interrupted, huh?” he mocks you, before slamming his hips into yours, in a quickening pace the room begins filling with the sounds of wet thrusts and skin on skin. You squeak when he lays another spank across your ass, cheek burning up from the impact. He’s a pro athlete with extremely toned arms, so those harsh love taps are bound to leave marks.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to int-”

“S’okay, doll,” right after cutting you off once more, he looks down at you with the most condescending look and thrusts his cock, perfectly hitting your sweet spot. Repeatedly targeting that spot has you becoming a babbling mess. His hold on your hips prevents you from moving, as he thrusts up into your cunt like you’re some doll. You love the way he has you seeing fireworks, the way his cock stretches you out so well, and the way he reaches insanely deep, up against your cervix. You love it so much actually, to the point where you start saying things you didn’t mean to say… Well, not yet at least.

“Baby, I love you so much, oh gosh. Can’t.. Your cock feels so good, ahhh.”

“(Y/n), did y-”

“Fuck, please, please, please. Cum inside me, please? I wanna feel ya up against my womb when you c-”

“What the fuck are you saying, (Y/n)?” Regardless of his presumably concerned words, Kageyama quickens the speed of his hips, chasing this desired high and forbidden idea of cumming inside the love of his life.

“Mmm, you know exactly what I’m saying. I know you aren’t that dumb,” you brain is too fried to know when to stop with your words. “I’m not the fucking dumb one when you are the one who’s basically begging to be knocked up. Is that what you want, doll?” he leans up close to your ear and hums those tempting words as he stops his rapid thrusts, instead grinding his cock against the deepest parts of your sopping cunt.

“‘Course, baby. Want your cum right inside here,” you whine again as you pull his hand, placing it on the surface of your tummy, reveling in the way he moans loudly. There was something about what you said that had Kageyama in a loss for thoughts, heart skipping every other beat. Even if this was all in the heat of the moment, heat of lust and desire, what he felt far surpassed mere infatuation.

“Gonna cum..” he whispers, groaning at the way you swivel your hips in his lap, bringing you both closer and closer. He wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace, tipping you over the edge. He loves you. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, feeling the warmth seep through your core as he paints your walls white. You’re left breathless as Kageyama basks in the event of his high.

“I can’t believe I actually c.. inside you..”

“Felt nice though, right?” you coo into his ear. His face and ears burning up as you lift yourself off his lap, releasing the softening cock from your insides. The mix of your juices and his cum slowly drips out, which has him groaning at the sight. With a soft kiss on the lips, Kageyama lays you on the bed again before getting up to prepare a warm towel.

Patting you clean of all the grime of the dirty encounter, he takes one good look at your body, face, eyes and sighs. For a man with no true understanding of his own emotions, you’ve learned to read and interpret them in lieu of that. But right now, for the first time, you don’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling.

“Was it bad, or something..? We can talk about it,” you pull him in to rest and lay beside you, face to face. Those deep blue eyes say so many things, intense love and desire, but also, grief and sadness, all at the same time. He doesn’t respond to you. “Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong?” You grab onto his hand, feeling the slight tremble and shake beneath his skin.

He can't leave you when you look at him with such love, or hold his hands with such care, or speak to him with such concern. He just can’t.

“I’m leaving, Y/n.. I got an offer for Team Italy.”

- TAGLIST -

(taglist continues in the replies!!)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #kageyama smau #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama smut #no.1 fan #bad hours #admin kae

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magnoliasinbloom · 4 years ago

Text

Lie To Me - 9

AO3 :: Previously

Claire blinks, visibly baffled. For a moment, she doesn’t even know what to say, processing what Jamie’s revelation means for their own relationship. She shakes her head to clear it. “You say that having children is one way for your uncles to take the land. How do you manage to not… you know?” Claire blushes.

“Och, Sassenach, I’ve told them that the burns may have made me… unable to sire children. Nerve damage and such.” Jamie matches her reddening cheeks. They both know he is perfectly capable of performing.

“The other way they win is if you—you die. Does this mean that they’ve tried that?”

“Not yet. I agreed to marry as well because Jenny has bairns of her own, including boys. They can inherit too, but I dinna wish my uncles to harm them in their pursuit of wealth and power.” Jamie’s voice is hard. “There was the fire, but that was merely a happy accident that didna turn out as well as they would have hoped.”

“The fire? Your scars?” Claire asks, and Jamie and Murtagh exchange glances.

“Start at the beginning, a bhalaich. Dinna confuse the puir lassie.” Murtagh pours them another tumblerful. Claire is still nursing the first drink, her mind reeling with the information regarding Jamie’s marriage.

“A few years ago, I was working late at night at the Leoch office building. I was still inexperienced, tryin’ to prove meself at the job. I had a colleague; his name was Alexander McGregor.” Jamie’s eyes are full of shame, but his voice is steady. “He had stayed that night too. When I was finally leaving, I noticed he was in a private conference room, with the blinds drawn. That was smart, for Alex knew there were cameras in there. I thought it might be something serious, for their talk grew so heated I could hear the argument coming from the room. I thought I’d knock and defuse the situation.” Jamie paused to take a deep draught. Claire is tempted to reach for his hand and comfort him, but senses this is a story he has to tell for himself.

“Before I could turn the doorknob, I heard a muffled gunshot and I broke into the room. I could only see Alex for a second, slumped in a chair, blood pouring from a hole in his stomach. The man struck me in the heid wi’ the gun, and I dropped like a stone.” Claire gasps softly.

Jamie plows ahead resolutely. “I woke up a few minutes later when I smelled the smoke, the gun in my own hand, and it was already too late. Alex was dead, and the room was up in flames. The man had rigged the wiring on the overhead lights when he left and caused the fire, disabling the sprinklers too. Wi’ the closed door, it was an inferno. My back was seared and blistered, the skin peeling off as I tried to get Alex’s body out. Or so the doctors told me. ‘Twas a miracle I survived at all.”

Murtagh clears his throat. “He was in the hospital for a month. Jenny and I were terribly worried, thinking he might not pull through.”

“But why?” Claire bursts out, bewildered. “Why kill Alex?”

“Alex discovered internal documents that implicated men in power, links to bank accounts of several police officers, judges, and politicians on Leoch Holdings’ payroll. My uncles were—are—trading money for favors, overturning convictions, and legislating in the company’s interests.”

“During the investigations, we found no trace of any document in the room, most everything had burned up,” Murtagh says. “There was also no CCTV footage available. Someone had tampered with the video.” With this, the old man stood up, and unlocked a metal filing cabinet next to his desk. Claire watched in fascination as he manipulated a false bottom and extracted a fat manila envelope. “But then we got these.”

“Murtagh took care of my dingy flat while I was in hospital. Alex had messengered over copies of the documents in secret—wise of him, to leave no digital trace. There was a letter explaining what it all meant, and who the man was—Stephen Bonnet, he’s a commander in the force. Murtagh saw it, and could verify that my name was not on the records. Therefore, I was unlikely to be involved in my uncles’ dirty business.”

“Why did he not tell you from the start?” Dread was settling into Claire’s very bones, as she grasped the magnitude of the situation.

“He didna trust me, I imagine. Upon his discovery, he assumed I was in cahoots with my uncles, bein’ family and all. But I made certain comments to him that probably convinced him I was unaware of their dealings.”

“What did you tell him?”

“At the time, when I started at Leoch, my uncles were pressuring me to date and marry Laoghaire. I told Alex this, and said that it was wrong and I plain didna want to, and if they fired me for it, they could go fuck themselves and I’d work bagging groceries at Tesco before I’d let them bully me like that.” Claire almost smiles at this vehement outburst. “I lost on that account.”

“And Bonnet?”

“He was listed under an assumed name on the documents. That’s why Alex, poor lad, didna think he might be involved either. Bonnet fixed it so Alex’s body was not autopsied, so no one could ken of the gunshot wound that killed him. The McGregors were told there were no real remains, and they had only ashes to mourn. My uncles—”

“Threatened your life if you exposed them and forced you to marry,” Claire finishes for him. “But there is no proof of you doing any wrong!”

Murtagh sighed. “We thought so as weel. But Colum and Dougal’s reach is much longer than ye ken.”

“They had tech experts alter images and deep fake a video that pin Alexander’s death on me,” Jamie says. Claire shakes her head.

“But surely anyone—”

“’Tis my word against theirs. With their endless resources and contacts in law enforcement and the courts, who would believe me?” Jamie’s tone is final and resigned.

Silence weighs heavy in the air; Murtagh collects their empty glasses and sets them on his desk. “I’ve used my position in the force to continue to gather evidence, more papers, whatever I can use to help bring Colum and Dougal MacKenzie to justice, and absolve Jamie from any blame. I’ve involved Chief John Grey from the SCD, Specialist Crime Division, who works with organized crime, and it’s taken us years to be able to discern who to trust and who is in Leoch’s pockets.”

Claire is stunned at this turn of events. She had expected a godfather who at best, might cajole her into believing that Jamie’s marriage was a lie, an economic convenience of sorts, and that had been true after a fashion. But she had not predicted that this was an issue involving crime, illegal activities, and the death of an innocent man. Jamie appears to read her thoughts.

“That is the truth, Sassenach, and I trust ye enough that I ken well ye willna expose the ongoing investigation, or speak to anyone about what happens at Leoch. I’ve endangered yer very life by making ye privy to my story, and for that I am truly sorry.”

“Jamie, I—” Claire’s voice breaks. She casts about for what she wants to say. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t say anything, not even to Geillis,”—at this she remembers G is still waiting in the lobby— “and… and I want you to understand, we are what we make ourselves, we use what we have, and we decide what we are. You, James Fraser, are an honorable man.”

X-x-X

Jamie remains behind to spend time going over new evidence with Murtagh. Claire assures him Geillis and she will head straight to their flat, and he asks if she would call him tomorrow. He doesn’t want to assume, he doesn’t want to lie anymore; he will give her time to think, to decide if this is something she also wants, if she feels as he does, their short acquaintance be damned. Can Claire risk her heart?

There is an unbearable weight of sorrow pressing upon Claire’s spirit; as she rides the elevator, descending numbers flashing in the display, she racks her brain trying to figure out if there is anything, anything at all she can do to ease his burden.

When she spots Geillis waiting for her, she realizes how lucky she is to have a friend like her—unconditional, constant, a forever kind of friend. G had been there for her in her darkest times, even when…

Suddenly it hits Claire. Without a word, Geillis follows her out into the rainy Glasgow night.

“What’s happened? Are ye convinced? Was he telling the truth?”

“Oh, G. I can’t even tell you. He’s for real, and he’s just been so unlucky in life… I have to help him.��

“What do you mean? Help him how?”

“I’m going to call Frank.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm9

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siodium · 3 years ago

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ASKD;AKSL MY 天官赐福 MANHUA ARRIVED SAFELY

the day it got delivered i went to check the mailbox in the morning before work and i noticed it was full so i asked my family to go open it up hoping that whatever’s filling up the mailbox was my manhua

came back from work and nope no parcel for me :/ well that’s fine... i had asked the GO host to let me know when she’d mailed it out but she didn’t say anything so i guess it’s still with her,,, right??

wrong!! later in the evening it was in the mailbox!! my dad said if i didn’t ask him to check the mailbox in the morning and dig out whatever’s inside then the mailman might not have been able to fit my manhua parcel inside the mailbox and if they dump it at my doorstep and it gets lost or soaked in this rainy weather i’m gonna be mad >:(

tldr my ocd mailbox-checking tendencies may have saved my parcel

so for context after watching mdzs i started getting tgcf recommendations on youtube but i put it off bc idk?? it looked interesting but i wasn’t looking to start anything that time

then i became a netflix parasite and!! tgcf was just added to netflix so i thought eyyy why not start now while the host has yet to boot me

bruH i liked the donghua sO MUCH i went to find the eng translation of the novel so i could continue the rest of the story

the novel had over 300 chapters but i was so invested in the Plot and the Ship i would read it whenever i could so i finished it in two weeks

book gave me so much feels 10/10 i haven’t read something so engrossing that made me not want to put it down ever since AI the somnium files

i actually have a tiny bit of regret picking one of the best danmei novels to start with bc now it’s hard to find anything that can compare???

and that’s the story of how i became addicted to danmei

i was not expecting this book to be such a chonker O: it’s noticeably bigger and a lot heavier than your average japanese manga

xie lian looking gorgeous on the cover sasuga STAREMBER

i joined the bilibili GO so my set came with a shikishi, pin badge, sticker sheet and bookmark~ i heard the pin badge would only be included for the first 40k orders or something like that and they sold out really fast so i wasn’t expecting to get it but it’s a pleasant surprise!!

the sticker sheet was the only extra thing i wanted (luckily it came with all orders) askdjaldj look at all the chibis

wind master!!!! the goodest boi!! must protect

some peeks of the inside!!

yes it’s all in chinese

can i read???? no... but i’m trying my best

the translated chapters are up on the bilibili site/app for free but i just wanted a physical copy bc i’m a simp for starember’s art

bride xie lian... nice

the first volume ends right after the ghost bridegroom arc which means hua cheng barely got any screen time lmao rip

was kinda hoping that the first volume would cover a little bit of the banyue arc but it seems like they a publishing volumes based on the online publication... which means we’ll get four?? volumes of banyue arc gg

idk how to feel about that but at least there’s more hualian moments

the gambling den/ghost city arc tho!!! that’s the one i’m really looking forward to

due to space constraints i told myself to pick between the chinese physical manhua and the english physical novel

i pick the nice arts as you already know but recently when i went to kinokuniya i saw the taiwan novels?? the cover art was so beautiful?? and since the english novels will be using the same cover art... by extension they’d also turn out beautiful... so now i’m tempted

but i already have the digital copy of the entire novel tho and that helps to conserve space (and money) hmm,,

#log #today's the last day of 2021 and it's been raining the whole day #it's nice and cooling but kinda moody #hopefully things get better next year so i can be Freed

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prettylittlelyres · 4 years ago

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The Right Book at the Right Time

The other day, I saw a Tumblr post about how difficult it can be to read even the most book if the timing isn’t right. Sometimes you need something familiar and comforting, and sometimes you need something new and a bit challenging, and there’s no hard-and-fast rule for when either of those things might occur.

It really made me think about the right time to read a book, and about the books I’ve read so far this year that I’ve had on my reading list for ages. If I haven’t “clicked” with a book (sometimes because of constraints on my time, and sometimes because of my mood) in the past, I’ve crossed it off my reading list entirely.

That’s what happened with “No Place for a Lady” by Gill Paul, because I picked it up just before I moved house, and the copy I had was a paperback borrowed from my local library. I read the first thirty-odd pages, and I was really enjoying it, but I was trying to pack my entire life into one small suitcase and a single cardboard box, and that’s quite the task. I returned it to the library, and haven’t picked it back up. It feels odd to me, because I’ve since read pretty much everything else that Gill Paul has written (I just adore her books about the Romanovs!), but the time just hasn’t felt right for “No Place for a Lady”. I don’t think I’d enjoy it if I picked it up now, even though I often pick up her other books, and have given copies of two of them to my friend as a birthday present.

That said, I know it will be “the right time” for that book - and others - at some point. I definitely haven’t given up on it.

If the timing isn’t the best, I really struggle to enjoy books even if I want to love them. A good case in point is “Children of Blood and Bone” by Tomi Adeyemi, which I first bought in my second year, when it came out in paperback, but I was Far Too Depressed to read much of anything at the time. Even though I was really excited by the concept, and wanted to read more fantasy than I had been doing, I just couldn’t force myself to concentrate on anything for long enough to get immersed in a book. Trying to read it then just frustrated me, and it got sent to the charity shop as well. Last year, I bought myself the eBook and audiobook, and earlier this month I read the whole thing in less than a week. It’s absolutely fabulous, and so exciting, and I’m so glad I bought another copy, because it’s such a good book (and definitely one I’ll be re-reading, no matter how pressed I am for time).

I’m currently reading “Kushiel’s Dart” by Jacqueline Carey, and hate having to put it down to do Things Which Are Not Reading. I first bought a copy of it years ago, when I was still at Sixth Form, tried to read it several times, never getting past the first hundred pages, and eventually it was time for me to pack up my bedroom and leave for university, so it got sent to the charity shop, and I crossed it off my reading list. Cut to my room at university just a few months into my first semester, and I was craving a crumb of Carey... so I bought another copy, and have watched it languish in the corner of every room I’ve had since then... until now. It’s taken me five (or maybe six) years for me to “click” with it.

Hopefully I’ll find the “right time” for the rest of the books on my reading list quite soon. It’s frustrating to feel like my brain just won’t get into gear. Still, when I do feel like that, I have plenty of books (many of them digital, so they’re all in my pocket at once) to try to tempt myself out of the Cave of Potato-Brain, and most of my favourite books are downloaded to my phone, anyway.

(Note: please buy official copies of eBooks and audiobooks. Book piracy is seriously harmful to the whole publishing industry, and even if you don’t want to support a particular author but still want to read their work, pirating a pdf is not the answer. Buy a second-hand paperback from your local charity shop if you can, or look for one online. Alternatively, look in your local library. Don’t download books illegally. Just... don’t do that. Please.)

The other day I was in the mood for something “light and a little bit silly” (both very excellent things for a book to be), so I listened to “Dancing in My Nuddy-Pants” by Louise Rennison (the audiobook is read by the author), which is spectacularly funny. It was distinctly not the right time for me to work silently on my university reading. I read a lot of “Georgia Nicolson” when I was at secondary school, and was much more diligent and industrious (I had more energy then. Don’t know where I got it from or how to get it back. Please return to etc etc reward offered if found etc.) with my studies, so I thought having one of the audiobooks in the background might kick my brain into a decent gear...

...It didn’t, because I was laughing too hard, but it still improved my mood no end, so that I was able to work properly afterwards.

Sometimes you need something familiar and comforting, and sometimes you need something new and a bit challenging, and there’s no hard-and-fast rule for when either of those things might occur. It definitely wasn’t the right time for me to read the articles I had to read for university the other day, but I managed to trick my brain into working anyway by listening to an audiobook which was right.

Still, if your brain is a little bit smarter than mine (the bar’s on the floor, let’s face it) and you can’t trick yourself into thinking it’s the “right time” for a book you want or need to read, don’t worry. (Easier said than done, I know. Try not to worry.) It will be “the right time” for that book - and others - at some point. You don’t have to give up on it.

#writeblr #blog #bookblr #reading #book recommendations #tomi adeyemi #children of blood and bone #brain hack #student life #louise rennison #gill paul #georgia nicolson #jacqueline carey #kushiel's dart #reading list #writer's life #reading to write

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

Text

Conversations

Chapter 4

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, drinking, and drunk texting.

A/N: Italics are internal thoughts.

Chapter 3

“Where do you want to eat?” Brooks asked once the two of you reached a strip of fast food and casual eateries.

Both of you left the office in search of a late lunch. In actuality, Brooks surprised you in the parking lot when you pulled in. You had just eaten breakfast two hours prior, but hey, if he was paying, you were going.

“Champs is always good,” you said.

Brooks hummed in reply, but kept walking past the entrance, leaving you standing there puzzled.

“Okaaaaay,” you said as you jogged to catch up. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Okay. Sure. We’ll go with that,” you replied.

When you passed the fifth restaurant, you quickly walked ahead, grabbing the door for Panera Bread and holding it open for him. “In! Now!”

He chucked, shook his head, and walked in, you following behind.

With a large, apple and chicken salad in front of you, as well as large hunk of bread, you decided to let the two of you eat in peace before the interrogation began.

“Do you really need three packets of butter for that piece of bread?” he questioned.

You pointed the plastic butter knife at him. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full. And yes, this is a lot of bread, so it deserves a proportionate amount of butter. Bread and butter give me life. Don’t hate,” you replied, tearing a chunk off.

He closed his mouth, chewing a large bite of his sandwich but giving you a large closed lipped smile.

After your stomach was overstuffed by the bread you insisted on eating, you took a large sip of water, eyeing Brooks who now had his phone in hand.

“You and Jana are too much alike. Always so serious on your damn phones,” you said. Pushing your cup away because you were just too full for even water.

“One to talk. I hear you are mighty chatty with those…Evans guys,” he whispers at the end causing you to roll your eyes.

“They’re both friends,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.

“Not with Chris from what I hear,” he said, the smugness thick.

You bite out a laugh. “From what you hear. You mean Jana? That’s your big scoop? You’re such a punk.”

“I’m just sayin’ that it all sounds flirty to me.”

“Remind me to not tell Jana anything anymore,” you said.

He gives you a half smile, but says nothing else.

“It’s not like that. He’s Brish Mevins.” Brooks chuckles at the fake name you gave Chris. “Have you seen the girls he’s dated?”

Brooks shakes his head no, but picks up his phone and starts typing away. You put your hand over it, forcing it down.

“Neither have I, and I want to keep it that way. But I’m sure they’re gorgeous and probably all actresses. Besides, sometimes people just flirt. I do it too. It’s fun,” you replied.

“Think what you will, but be open to it,” Brooks says, taking his finger and tapping your nose.

“Dorks. That’s the only types of people I know.” Brooks scrunches up his face and gives you a smile. “Any way. Tell me what’s up and don’t say it’s nothing.”

He lets out a long breath but sits up straighter, his face instantly changing to one that’s excited. “I got a job offer,” he exclaims.

“A different one at the paper?” you asked.

He shakes his head no. “It’s with an online news organization. It’s still a sales position, but it’s better pay and I can work from anywhere.”

“Don’t leave me there by myself,” you pout. “You can’t buy me lunch if you’re at home.” Bottom lip sticking out.

“You’re hardly there by yourself. How often have I come to your desk and your busy chatting with the women around you?” he asked.

While you are extremely happy for your friend, damn, are you going to miss seeing him every day.

“Not the same.” You take a big breath in. “But I want the best for you. So, if you’re happy, I’ll be happy. The Cole family is certainly moving up. You with this new job and Jana making partner.”

Brooks throws a hand up. “Don’t jinx it. Nothing’s been announced yet.”

You copy his stance, adding your second hand in. “Fine. Fine. But it’s going to happen.”

It’s media day at Walt Disney’s Hollywood Studios. The second attraction, Rise of the Resistance in Galaxy’s Edge is opening and you are quite excited. You hadn’t always loved the Star Wars franchise, not getting into the movies until your early twenties thanks to an old boyfriend who was pretty obsessed. This ride is supposed to be a huge deal and with very little revealed to the public thus far, you’re stoked.

There’s a big presentation by CEO Robert Iger with some surprise guests. Storm Troopers are roaming the currently empty stage while various members of the media prepare to go live once the presentation starts. A borrowed camera with a zoom lens from the paper rests in your hand. You also have your digital voice recorder ready to go. It would be easier to film the event and take stills from the video, but with a good number of YouTubers making up the event, you can always catch what you missed later that night.

Robert Iger walks on the stage while small pyrotechnics fire off from the back. Cheers all around. The buzz in the air is catchy and you find yourself fangirling more than anything. The special guests end up being Daisy Ridley and John Boyega as both actors play a part in the ride.

You’re given a return time to ride the attraction that day. Seeing that you have about an hour until your time slot, you peruse the shops selling various themed wares. Even the bottles of Coke products are themed to match the land. You purchase an orbed shape bottle of Sprite and snap a selfie sending it off to Scott.

Scott: Sprite? You’re in Star Wars land and you get soda. Where’s the blue milk?

You laugh at his reply.

Y/N: Star Wars land? It’s called Galaxy’s Edge Grumpy.

Y/N: Have you tried the blue milk? I’ll stick with the pop thank you very much.

Scott: Pop?! What the fuck is pop?

Scott: How long have you lived in Florida. The word you’re looking for is soda.

Y/N: Whatever 🙄

You snuck a selfie with a Storm Trooper and sent it to Chris. A few minutes later he was calling you.

“Hey babe,” you answered.

Yeah, your friendship had taken on another nickname. He called you sweetheart and you called him babe. The first time you said it to him you cringed. Like full body folded in half while you waited for a reaction. You didn’t mean to say it, but Chris took to calling you almost daily. He had a long break in his schedule and you had become part of his day. One day the word just slipped out. It felt natural. When he went on as if nothing happened, you relaxed. The nickname slipped out more and more as if that were his name.

“You’re killing me sweetheart! Are you there for the paper?” he asked.

“Yeah. Story will post tomorrow if you want to read it. I’m about to go on Rise of the Resistance in a few minutes.”

“Of course, I want to read it. Send me the link tomorrow. Gah! I’m jealous,” he whined.

You let out a giggle. “Get your butt to Orlando then. If you can’t swing the cost of a hotel, you can stay with me,” you replied.

“Uh-huh, okay, Sassy. I’ll let you know. Go enjoy your day smartass,” he said.

“You wouldn’t put up with me if you didn’t like it,” you teased.

“Need to stop talking to Scott. Apparently, he’s a bad influence on you,” Chris said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I’m going to head over to the line. I’ll call you later babe,” you said.

“Sounds good sweetheart. Bye,” Chris said ending the call.

Rise of the Resistance was not only visually stunning, but action packed. There were so many details that no doubt you could ride ten additional times and still not catch them all. The Sentinel was lucky to have a Disney enthusiast such as yourself on staff. Whenever there was a Disney Parks story needed, they knew yours would trump the competition. While you knew you were good at your job, you were also your worst critic and struggled to really put yourself out there. This is why you mainly worked on assignment with only writing a story of your choosing from time to time.

On your way out of the park, you purchased a Mickey Premium Ice Cream Bar. You took a bite out of one of the ears and snapped a selfie. The picture was quickly sent to Chris since he asked you to mail one to him a month again.

Y/N: I was going to mail this but he just looked so damn tempting.

Chris: I may not talk to you for a while. I think you understand why.

Y/N: I refuse to believe that. I’ll call you later.

Chris: We’ll see

What a baby.

It was Christmas Eve and you were freezing cold in your mom’s house. The heat was on, but she liked to keep the thermostat set to sixty eight to keep the gas bill low. Living in Florida for fifteen years had thinned your blood. The one positive about being back in Minnesota in the winter besides seeing your family, were the cute winter clothes you could wear again. Despite the warmer temperatures all year round in Central Florida, clothing stores still sold tall boots and thick sweaters.

Dressed in a large cream cowl neck sweater, dark blue jeans, and fuzzy red and white stripped socks, you were still freezing. You pulled the green throw blanket up to your neck, wishing someone would hold your mug of hot cocoa spiked with Baileys up to your lips so you wouldn’t have to remove your hands from under your blanket.

“When did you turn into such a baby?” Heath, your younger brother asked.

Like a true baby, you stuck your tongue out at him. He smirked but shook his head at you before sitting down next to you on the couch. Your mom and her sisters are in the kitchen, fussing with dinner, but mostly drinking wine. The “kids” who are all in their late twenties and thirties include your cousins Jenny, Rebecca, Tony, and Nick and his wife Avery, as well as yourself and Heath.

You brother reaches forward and grabs your mug off the coffee table, taking a sip before passing it to you.

“This is weak,” he said.

“Not all of us need a splash of cocoa in our Baileys,” you replied.

“When’s the last time we all got drunk together?” Jenny asked.

“Not since Nick’s wedding and that was like ten years ago,” Rebecca replies.

“Count us out, we got the kids watching TV in basement and need to get home tonight,” Avery said.

Nick frowns causing you to chuckle.

“I’m game, but I don’t want to get Baileys drunk. What else do we have?” you asked.

Heath got up and walked into the kitchen, politely smiling at your mother before opening a cabinet. It was taking some effort as he was trying to reach the back of the cupboard. A few seconds later he walked back into the living room with his hands behind his back. Like a magician unveiling his trick, he pulls the bottle from behind his back.

The group of you oohs at the green bottle of Jägermeister.

“We’re going to be so sick,” Rebecca said.

“On Christmas,” you add. “Why does mom have a bottle of Jägermeister?

Fuck. Mom is going to be so mad at us.

“It’s mine from like five years ago. I left it here and forgot all about it,” Heath chuckles.

“Do we have shot glasses?” Jenny asked.

“Doubt it,” Heath said.

“But we do have Dixie cups in the bathroom.” Tony said, getting up from his seat and moving into the bathroom.

Heath grabbed his phone and hit play on his nineties music playlist. It may be Christmas Eve, but this was really a get together with your family since you mainly only came home once a year. Even then, not everyone was able to get together every year.

With your first shot in hand, you snap a selfie. Best to do it now before I start to get sloppy.

Downing the shot with your brother and cousins, you grab your phone to fire off a text, attaching the picture to send Chris and then to Scott.

Y/N: Cheers to a Merry Christmas

Scott’s the first to reply as you finish your second shot.

Scott: Someone’s getting holly and jolly

You giggled at that causing your family to all send you a questioning look.

“These shots are already going straight to my head,” you said quickly.

“Drinking game!” Heath shouts. “Since we know the Christmas Story is on TV, anytime someone says Ralphie, we drink.”

“We are so getting wasted tonight,” Tony said.

“Mom,” you called out. She walked from the kitchen into the living room where you all were. “I think everyone but Nick and Avery are staying over.”

“You kids,” she sighs as she shakes her head walking away.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Chris had responded to your text.

Chris: God you’re adorable.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach with heat instantly rising to your cheeks. You hoped the alcohol you consumed was a good enough cover for the redness you were no doubt showing.

Your phone started to buzz in your hand repeatedly. You were so lost in your thoughts, you almost missed the call entirely.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” Chris said. His voice was a little rough, making you shiver.

“Hi Ba-Chris,” you said, almost slipping out the nickname in front of your family. Getting up quickly, you moved to your old bedroom for privacy.

“How’s your Christmas so far?” he asked.

“Really good. It’s like the first Christmas in maybe five years where all my cousins on my mom’s side could come,” you said. “We’re having a really good time.”

He chuckled. “I can see that. How many paper cups of alcohol have you had?”

“Only two. Probably a lot more to come,” you replied. “Besides, it’s warming me up. It’s like I get amnesia about the weather.”

“I bet. Too much sunshine. It’s cold here too,” Chris said.

“Are you and Scott in Boston?” you asked.

“Yep, for like the last week. Probably be here another couple of weeks. You should come to Boston,”

What?

You cleared your throat. “Like now?” you asked.

Chris chuckled again. Damn, if that laugh didn’t get you every time.

“Like in general.” He pauses for a moment. “You should come out sometime. Scott’s here a lot. I’m here a lot. It would be fun. Give ya the whole New England experience,” he said.

“You know, it’s cold in Massachusetts,” you chuckled out.

“It’s a good thing you look so cute in sweaters,” he said, seriousness in his voice.

Okay fine. I like Chris. I like him, like him. Fuck.

You’re rendered speechless. Yes, he’s flirty every once in a while, via text message, but hearing it over the phone is something else. It’s almost not fair that he can say those things but be a thousand miles away most days.

“Hello? Did I lose you sweetheart?” Chris asked.

“Sor…sorry. Yeah, I’ll think about it,” you stammered.

“Come in the fall. It’s beautiful in the fall and not too cold for you.”

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll work it out,” you replied.

“I’m holding you to it.” Chris said.

“Y/N? Where’d you go?” Rebecca called from the other room.

“Hey, Chris. I’m being summoned in the next room. M’sure I’m a few drinks behind by now,” you replied.

“Okay, sweetheart. Go have fun with your family,” he said.

“You too, babe. Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied.

You were indeed late to the party as everyone was plenty tipsy by the time you walked back into the living room. Tony handing you a full paper cup before you could even sit down.

An hour later you had given up on drinking. You were at the point where you were just tipsy enough with zero percent chance of getting sick and that was plenty. You had a feeling your mom would be waking everyone up bright and early tomorrow.

You picked up your phone and sent Chris a text. Because having your phone while drunk was a great idea.

Y/N: We all want something beautiful

Man, I wish I was beautiful

The two of you had a habit of sending song lyrics back and forth to each other. Since the nineties station was still playing on Heath’s phone, Mr. Jones seemed appropriate. And maybe the booze made you brave since the words had hidden meaning to your crush on Chris.

Chris: A little Counting Crows on Christmas?

Y/N: Why not? Sometimes Christmas makes you nostalgic for the 90s.

“One more shot. Come on. Just one more. You’re never home to get drunk with me anymore.” Heath sniggered.

“You are a bad influence on me,” you teased, poking him in his chest. “Fine. One more and that’s it.”

One more turned into three more and you were suddenly sloppy drunk. You said goodnight to everyone, after throwing them extra blankets and pillows you scrounged up from your bedroom.

Alone in your room, you couldn’t get your mind off of Chris. After calling you cute and inviting you to Boston, not to mention the flirty texts, it was all too much.

Y/N: I think yur so cutte

Y/N: so nice n sweet

Y/N: just derseve everything you evr want

Y/N: wish yo not so far away

Predictive text doesn’t catch everything apparently, but you’re pretty sure he would get what you were saying. Before you could type another devotion to Chris, your phone rang, causing you to drop it on your head.

“Motherfucker!” you exclaimed, rubbing your aching head.

The phone continued to ring regardless of your pain.

“Hello?” you groaned.

“So, I’m going to take a shot in the dark here and say that you are trying to text my brother.” Scott said.

“Scott! Hi! I miss you!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Yeah. Miss you too Sassy. Sounds like someone’s a little drunk.”

You giggled. “You’re a little drunk!”

“Oh my god. I should be recording this call.” He murmured.

You laughed because that’s what you did when you drank. You weren’t sure why you were laughing, but Scott always put you in a good mood.

“Anyway. I’m going to call you tomorrow because you probably won’t remember this. I need you to put your phone away and go to sleep. Those text messages you thought you were sending to Chris, you actually sent to me,” he said.

You frowned, sticking out your bottom lip. “Can you show Chris? He needs to know,” you whined.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow sweetie. Now get some rest. Goodnight,” Scott said.

“Night Scott.”

The next morning you groaned to the sounds of your mother banging pots and pans. You were pretty sure she was doing it on purpose. With every bang, it felt like your head was going to crack open. Taking a pillow from under your head, you put it over your face and prayed that you could fall back to sleep. But then you remembered something about telling Chris he was cute.

Oh no! He’s going to think I’m some sad, desperate girl.

You grabbed your phone, praying Chris didn’t reply. Maybe he’d ignore it and save you the embarrassment. But then you remembered Scott calling you.

“Thank god for Scott,” you mumbled.

Typing out a quick reply to Scott since he would now be considered your saving grace.

Y/N: Thank you for saving me from myself.

Scott: No problem Sassy. How are you feeling?

Y/N: Like death. Not drinking again, probably for years.

Scott: So dramatic.

Y/N: Merry Christmas Grumpy.

Scott: Merry Christmas Sassy.

You plugged your nearly dead phone in to charge and regrettably got out of bed since your mom continued to make way too much noise at nine in the morning. You took a shower, hoping it would make you feel more alive. Sadly, it did not.

After eating breakfast which consisted of pancakes since your mom took a little mercy on you, you crawled back into bed. Christmas dinner was being served at five, so you grabbed your phone to set an alarm for an or two, because you knew you would over sleep. As soon as you picked it up, you saw you had a text from Chris.

Chris: Merry Christmas sweetheart.

Chris Evans was going to be the death of you.

Chapter 5

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