#the ending was a stab in the heart but boy was it written beautifully | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delicrieux · 4 years ago

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

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A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you��ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

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First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

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You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

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emerald-chaos · 4 years ago

Text

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

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silentfangirlwritings · 4 years ago

Text

04 - lilac skies

while revisiting their spot, exes are confronted by old feelings and reflect their relationship.

pairing: unnamed (zion kuwonu x reader) (same as 01, 02 & 03) [you would only have to read 01 & 03 to read this part if you wish]

word count: 4.4k

~~~

her return had been long-awaited. her car, despite sitting undriven for close to three years, felt familiar to the asphalt and the trees called to her. the elements around these parts had missed her presence and welcomed her home with open arms.

she’d been putting off this outing since she returned to her hometown. it was the first place she’d written on her list when she started planning her trip home and the last place she was going to. she’d been pushing it off and it got to the point her mom told her to swallow her pain and go. she was leaving in four days, it was time.

she’d woken up early that day and laid in bed for three hours doing nothing. she’d stared at her phone and then at a book and for a while, she stared at the wall. her brain had been stuck on a loop since the elevator ride with him.

she shouldn’t have kissed him. she shouldn’t have even spoken to him. one look at that handsome boy with blond dreads and those glass-like eyes and she was done for. it was like every feeling that she’d ever had towards him came flooding back in during those 20 something floors.

for so long, she’d only felt pain when she remembered those years she’d spent attached to his hip. it was difficult to remember the good times when the pain he’d caused was still so fresh. she liked to think she was over it, occasionally lying to those around her saying she barely thought of him or that she was okay with what had happened. the good memories, though they outnumbered the bad ones by thousands, rarely came to mind.

this field outside the city had been the best place in the world for them. running off to come here whenever they wanted to be alone was her favourite thing. they’d just sit and lie around for hours on end, talking about nothing and everything. being able to kiss someone whenever you pleased was the best feeling. everything about this place was the best. he was the best.

now sitting in her car, staring at the gate, she remembered one of the last times she’d been here with him. it would’ve been around the same time she was here now, the sun was beginning to set. the sky was on a journey of its own, she wished hers was as beautifully.

stepping out of the car, she took a deep breath. a blue memory glowed in her head and pulled at her heartstrings. she pulled her jacket tighter around her torso and took two steps forward and one back and into the past.

she could see her younger self dancing around the field as she trudged forward to the picnic table. the joyous voices of two young and in love kids blowing by in the wind. her hands pushed deeper into her pockets, her fingertips tingling at the ghost of a memory. she didn’t want to feel it right now, that warm and safe feeling from him. she needed peace and it wouldn’t come from the memory of him.

she knew this was the way things would be. stepping into a place filled with memories meant her body would relive those sensations that used to be so special. closing her eyes would’ve meant he’d be right there beside her, but as that younger kid, he once was. on one side, the 15-year-old kid she fell in love with and on the other, the 17-year-old boy who broke her heart.

she stopped a few steps short of the picnic table. she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. she didn’t know what she was going to feel when she opened her eyes. some of the best moments of her teenage years had happened right in front of her. some of the saddest too.

she could almost hear their voices. the tearful conversations that were tattooed white on her heart. they all happened at this table. the first time she told him she loved him through tears, the first time he told her she was his entire world, irreplaceable in his heart. she’d live there forever, he’d smiled as tears fell down his cheeks, even some 2700 miles away.

the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was his boyish scribble on the flaking paint of the old table. the ink had withstood the harsh weather and nature’s elements with beauty. it felt like a stab to the chest. he’d broken her heart without a second thought yet the promise he’d made to her was still as strong as the day he first wrote it.

‘it doesn’t matter where life takes you, i’ll go wherever you are.’

“what a load of bullshit.”

she shook her head and moved to sit down on top of the picnic table. there was no use staring at his written words, they were forever engraved in her. that promise had kept her heart safe and her mind at ease for a fair amount of time. now, they were just an ugly ghost of a love that didn’t get the chance it deserved.

she crossed her legs under her and held herself tight. she closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. the air hadn’t changed its smell over the years. neither had the sounds of the wind in the trees. everything, in one way or another, was basically the same. nature doesn’t change a lot in 5 years.

when she opened her eyes, she could see them dancing across the field with their hands thrown up in the air. there was joy in every step they took and the biggest smiles on their faces. she giggled, couldn’t help herself.

she’d forgotten a lot of the innocence their time together held. the joy they experienced, the love they shared, it was unprecedented and new. there had never been anything quite like it and that on its own was a beautiful thing. but to think about the years they spent together as friends, best friends, it made it the most beautiful thing in the world.

they knew each other better than any other living person. the things that walked hand-in-hand with one another, the ugly and the blindly beautiful were accepted for what they were, not what they could be. that was one of the things she loved the most about him. he loved her for what she was, not who she could be, not who she was now.

she loved him the same way. she was sure of it. he had great potential, yes, but he was beautiful and worthy of love as he was when he was hers. he was so funny and filled with kindness. and his smile; nothing was quite like that smile. the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, the way he made her feel like she was the most beautiful being in the world were just bonuses. she would’ve happily accepted his love with less.

maybe she shouldn’t have.

she sighed to herself and checked her watch. it had only been ten minutes and she already wanted to leave. the sky hadn’t even changed colours yet, it was still a mix between orange and red. she’d sort of hoped to stay until the sun had set, or she’d been pressured to. her mom had told her it was the right thing to do.

“you used to be there from the moment you woke up ‘till just before curfew. it’ll do you good to be there at the same time.”

she didn’t really want to be there until her old curfew so she compromised and lied to her mom about it. there were a few food places she still had to check off her list whilst she was here. she could really go for some chips from cherry’s diner. she still hadn’t had anything like them in all those years she spent away.

over her shoulder, she saw the two of them laying on the grass next to one another. they were looking at the sky and talking with their hands joined. she was wearing one of his hoodies and he wore the plaited string bracelet she’d made over one weekend. she’d left it to the side but the second he saw it, he asked to have it. he hadn’t taken it off for a period longer than a shower throughout the duration of their relationship.

she hadn’t thought of that in years.

“i cannot wait to leave home.”

his voice echoed and sent chills up her spine. her giggle floated towards her and she watched on as she shook her head.

“there is so much time between then and now, slow down.”

he sat up and brought her hand to his lips. he kissed her knuckles delicately and leant over her body.

“just think of all the things we could do if we had a place to ourselves. privacy.”

she laughed and rolled her eyes. he wiggled his eyebrows at her and planted a sweet kiss on her plump lips.

“we have privacy and a place to ourselves.”

she spread her arms wide and he looked around.

“we’ve created our own little world. think of all the things we could do right here.”

he slipped his arm under her body and pulled her up a little into him.

“oh trust me, i am.”

she laughed and he kissed her. he shifted his body so he was fully on top of her and laid her back down, their lips never leaving another. she really loved the sound their lips made each time they touched. she never wanted to stop hearing it. but it was starting to hurt watching it all happen again.

she turned her head and blinked away the tears that were manifesting in her ducts. she stood up from the table and moved to the grass. she sat down, her hands brushing over the thin blades and laid back.

her eyes scrunched at the sky’s bright colours. it was beautiful but blinding. a lot of things were. it hurt to stare but there were times when it was just too hard to pull away from. you can’t just take a step back from it or look away for even a second because you could miss the best part. or it could all be over. everything happens too quickly. it’s so easy to miss everything.

it was so easy to miss him.

she let her mind run in circles as she directed her attention to the sky. the reds and oranges were beginning to turn to pinks and would soon enough come to an array of purples.

they used to do this a lot. she’d lay and watch the sky during its most beautiful times and he’d sit next to her. he often had his guitar, a pen and paper. she liked to hear him sing and the light strum of his guitar. she was thoughtless in those moments, completely at peace.

“these are the moments i’ll miss most.”

she’d said to him one night not long after his first trip to new york.

“we still don’t know if i’m going, you might never have to miss ‘em.”

he paused his strumming for a moment just to pick right back up, neither of them looking at one another. they were still struggling with the idea of what it meant if he was chosen. they didn’t want to know either.

“i’ll always miss these moments.”

he’d stopped his strumming again and stared at her. he always felt like she knew something he didn’t. half the time, she didn’t know what she knew either. she just got that gut feeling and never doubted it.

she took a deep breath and looked around at the purple hues that were starting to invade the pink sky. she loved this change from pink to purple. nothing could beat it on an evening like this. the sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. it was a warm night too. it was so close to perfect, especially with the strumming of a guitar playing somewhere off in the distance of her mind. or at least she thought it was her mind. it only took the melody to change to something she’d never heard to have her sitting up.

she followed the sound and turned to the hillside. why she hadn’t gone there when she first arrived, she had no idea. it used to be her favourite place to go. you could see the whole city from there, it was what dreams were made of.

she stopped when she saw him. he was sitting there with a small light attached to a notepad and his guitar. he had a pen in his mouth and he was nodding his head as he strummed. she hadn’t seen him this way in years and somehow, it still made her heart happy.

against better judgement, she crossed her arms over her chest and kept walking towards him. she stopped and sat down a metre or so away from him, slightly up the hillside. she hugged her legs to her chest and closed her eyes. the melodies he strummed and hummed washed over her like fairy dust.

“you’ve gotten better.”

she didn’t know she was going to speak until the words came out. she wasn’t even sure why she sat down or talked to him. being around him was hard. it was just so easy to talk to him and once she said one thing, she was saying another and then she was kissing him. it had always happened that way. it happened only a few days prior and she was still stuck thinking about his lips and the way he made her feel.

“practice makes perfect.”

she opened her eyes as he spoke and looked at him. he didn’t turn to look at her, just kept his eyes on the city. there was one simple reason he wouldn’t turn to look at her. he wasn’t sure if she was actually there or not.

“did you think about that elevator ride that started all this the other day?”

if they were going to be here together, they were going to walk down memory lane. she needed to talk to someone and get that gross feeling of him out of her. for some reason, the only thing her brain could think would get it out of him was talking to him. they were the only two people who knew what happened. he was the only person she could talk to about it.

he didn’t look at her again, or say anything. but she knew he was listening. he had that look and he’d stopped playing his guitar to twirl one of his blond dreads.

“it was too good for us to begin and end a relationship in the same setting. you’re a songwriter, a musician, and i’m a poet at heart. we had to meet one last time.”

“i made up my mind when you walked out of that elevator.”

he still didn’t turn to face her but he put his guitar down beside him. she watched him closely, waiting for him to say something more. to clarify what he meant because she had no idea. she wanted him to say he gives up, that he knows he’s not in love with her or confused about his feelings. she wanted him to admit that he’d made a mistake and that seeing her again had simply thrown him off.

“are you going to tell me or is it a surprise for another night?”

she was nervous in his silence.

“we’re not over. i’m not done with you.”

she stared at him and shook her head. he still wasn’t looking at her but maybe that was okay. she was a mix between angry and annoyed.

“you can’t decide something like that. you’re not done with me but i’m done with you.”

he turned to face her now, his eyebrows knitted together and his bottom lip jutted out. he looked tense but scared. calm but angry. he looked like two different people forced into one. stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“if you were done with me, you wouldn’t be here.”

she shook her head. no, that wasn’t true.

“i-i, no.”

she stuttered over her words. an honest and true response had left her mind. instead, all she could think about was what this place meant to her. she was sure, more than sure, that a place that was once theirs could mean something to her without it being about him.

“this place was ours. we spent hours here, we used to lay right here and make-”

“stop.”

“i’m here because it is the one place in this entire city that is just ours. every blade of grass, every leaf on those trees, every colour in the evening sky, it is yours. it is ours. i want to think about you and us, so i’m here. you can’t lie to me and say you’re not here to think about us. you still care about me. you’re not over me.”

she stared at him for a moment or two before laying back on the hill. she stared at the lilac sky and covered her face with her hands. he made her head so foggy she couldn’t think. she couldn’t even defend herself because he made everything not make sense.

“you’re so frustrating.”

she stood up as she spoke, shaking her head as she walked a few steps down the hill.

“it’s been almost five years and you still can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that i have my own ideas. my own feelings. i can treasure the memories i have with you and i can come back to the place that was ours one last time before i leave without it meaning that i’m stuck on you or still in love with you.”

she took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest. she didn’t know she was talking so fast until she stopped. she looked down at him and stared for as long as she could without that sob escaping her.

“i told you that i don’t love you, that i can’t love you. i kissed you and i told you that i felt nothing. i said goodbye to you and now, i’m saying goodbye to this place.”

“you keep saying goodbye, what does goodbye mean?”

he stood up and threw his arms out. he was hurting, she could see it. but she had to be honest. she couldn’t lie to him.

“i’m leaving.”

two simple words put together that turned him around. but they meant nothing. they’d both left this city long ago and neither of them had plans of moving back. the one thing she’d decided on that he hadn’t was their return.

“we’ve both already left.”

“i’m leaving and not coming back, zion.”

he perked up at the sound of his name coming from her mouth, but his heart dropped at the same time. if they don’t have this city in common, they have nothing. no friends, no food places, no roads, nothing.

“w-what?”

he stuttered and stepped forward, closer to her.

“i’ve bought a home.”

she smiled as she spoke, that heartbreaking smile. she was so happy, so, so happy. but she was hurting too.

“it’s only a small cottage but it’s enough for me. mom and dad are excited about visiting, they understand why i can’t keep coming back here. they understand.”

he stood there in front of her shaking his head with his mouth agape. there was nothing he could think to say that mattered. he knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make her not want to cut this place off completely. he also knew he had no business asking why she was doing this or where she was moving to. she hadn’t been his business for a very long time but that didn’t stop it from hurting so damn much.

she’d been living in europe since she’d graduated school. her plan was always to stay in canada for schooling and then move across the world but obviously, things had changed. the one good thing about them sharing a home town was that there was always a chance they’d run into each other. sure, they’d gone four almost five long years without that occurring, but the chance was always there.

and now it wasn’t going to be. she had no plans to come back. she was saying goodbye to everything and everyone. he finally realised why she’d risked seeing him at their friend’s party and he was starting to think she’d stepped into that elevator on purpose. she always did love closure. maybe it was the poet in her.

“you’re leaving.”

he spoke sadly like the world was ending, and she felt it in her heart, in her chest. his feelings always affected her. she hated just how connected they were. it made everything so much harder and she hated that. she hated everything about this whole situation, everything about him.

“you should know better than anyone that this was always going to happen.”

she smiled weakly at him and looked around. her hands pushed up her arms and she held herself tight. if he could stop staring at her so damn hard, maybe she’d feel okay.

“i just always thought it’d be with me.”

she shook her head and closed her eyes.

with me. his words echoed in her head. over and over again. with me, with him. the two of them together in harmony. that was the life they always dreamed of. she had left it behind when he’d split her heart in two but it was clear he hadn’t.

“do you honestly think my life starts and ends with you?”

a single tear fell down her cheek but she was quick to wipe it away.

“i-i, i don’t mean it like that.”

“no you say that but everything else that has come out of your mouth truly makes me believe that you think i eat, sleep and breathe you.”

she looked at him for a few moments before turning around to start walking back up the hill. she didn’t think he had anything more to say and she was fine with that. she didn’t want the last memory she’d have at their place to be an argument with him but it was seemingly going that way.

“i know you’re leaving this place because of me.”

he had followed her a few steps and when she turned around to face him, they were barely a foot apart. she was angry now.

“you know that that’s not true.”

she shook her head and held her hands up.

“you were the one good thing i had about this place. the one thing.”

she poked at his chest and raised her voice. he hadn’t seen her like this, well, ever. she wasn’t just angry. this wasn’t her angry. the worst part was, this was the most he’d seen her upset about what happened between them. about what he did to her.

“you were the only thing that was good about this city. everyone else was just someone who didn’t matter or would only matter until the end of high school, though of course, i was thinking it would be university at the time. no one mattered to me more than you and every time i’ve come back here-”

she paused to swallow the frog in her throat. it was getting hard to speak and her eyes were watering. but she was brave and met his sweet honey eyes. that would help her. it always did.

“every time i’ve come back here, i’ve been flooded with good memories of you. of us. you’re not the reason i’m leaving. if anything, you’re the reason i kept coming back long after i was finished here.”

a tear split from his right eye and she almost reached up to wipe it away. why were they so damn connected?

“why now?”

he shook his head as his voice cracked. he needed to know. nothing about her was his business but yet he needed to know everything.

“i think you already know.”

with that, she turned on her heel and walked back up the hill. he didn’t follow her, just watched her walk away. it hurt to see her leave but he didn’t have anything to say and she didn’t either. he walked back down the hill and sat down next to his guitar. he waited all of four minutes before he yelled into the empty air. it was dark out now and his light was dimming. he turned it off, it was dying anyway.

her name glowed in the moonlight. bright and warm and a perfect excuse for him to smile. but he didn’t want to smile. she was leaving. that was all that mattered. she was leaving and there was nothing else he could do or think about. he’d ruined every chance he’d ever had with her.

her car door closing interrupted the still air. her car was much warmer than the air outside but it somehow still managed to raise the hairs on the back of her neck and the goosebumps up and down her arms. she didn’t say anything or think anything. she barely even breathed.

all she did was put her car in reverse and leave. she went five minutes, driving down the roads she knew so well before the tears began to stream down her face. her bottom lip trembled and whimpers she tried to suppress slipped out.

turning into the cherry diners parking lot felt like coming home. she found her park and took the time to dry her tears. her mind was still a mess. thoughts were incomplete, stumped and all about him.

she hated it. she hated it more because there was no one she could talk to about it. there was no one she could call, no one she could see face-to-face. everything that had happened with him had been a secret. she could never tell anyone, she didn’t want to tell anyone.

she’d never wished so hard to have someone who understood. she wanted someone who knew what he thought and what he felt and why to talk to. scrolling through her contacts, she found the one person she thought might know at least one answer to all the questions she had. hitting the call button was easy.

“i know this is out of the blue and i’m really sorry but i-”

she cut herself off with a deep, shaky breath.

“i just need to talk to someone who knows.”

#zion kuwonu #zion kuwonu x reader #zion kuwonu imagines #my writing #i'd really like it if you guys can give some feedback #no pressure though

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lecarreverse · 4 years ago

Text

The great author recalls Smiley’s origins in one of his last pieces of writing, a new introduction to Call for the Dead.

I wrote Call for the Dead, my first novel, because I had been boiling to write for 20 years but had never quite had the prompt. I had done book illustrations, I had written bad poetry and one or two stories, and produced a couple of amateur plays, and become a reasonable hand at caricatures. In a bookless household, I had managed to acquire some sort of taste for books, largely because of a master at one of my early schools who read aloud to us beautifully from Conan Doyle and GK Chesterton. At 16, having fled my English public school, I took a huge sidestep into German language and literature and ended up teaching them at Eton, with the result that English letters always played second fiddle. It took a lurch from Eton into the intelligence community to get me writing Call for the Dead, and the prompt came from John Bingham, novelist, spy and colleague.

In MI5 the standard of report writing was very high indeed. Registry and senior officers were all pedants and descended on you like eagles if they spotted a sloppy sentence or an unsubstantiated claim: “Too fluffy. Can you actually demonstrate this? If this is hearsay, kindly say so clearly,” ran the marginal comments in different handwritings as your report came whistling back to you from the top floor. It was my first experience of having to battle for every sentence I wrote as if it had to stand up in court.

The agent-running section to which I was eventually attached was dominated by two figures, both men: Maxwell Knight, naturalist, broadcaster and the subject of at least two published biographies, and Bingham. Knight, allegedly of the far right, though I never heard him on politics, was by the time I knew him tolerated only on account of the agents he had recruited long ago and that were still beholden to him. He was a big, unwashed, silvery, boy scout of a man, of great charm and idiosyncratic habits that included bringing ailing small animals such as gerbils into the office in his jacket pocket. Bingham could scarcely have been more different.

Everything about Knight suggested that he be enjoyed with caution, but John was approachable, unassuming, quietly spoken and a kindly shepherd and confessor to his agents, mostly women. He was also a needle-sharp intelligence officer of great experience, as I had good reason to learn when one of my agents was blown and I needed his urgent advice on how to limit the damage. And John of necessity did much of his work in the evenings, when his agents returned home from their high-wire acts needing his consolation and wisdom and a large gin.

So by day, when he wasn’t writing a report, John was writing a novel. He had written quite a few by then, thrillers, all published by Gollancz and well received. I don’t remember that we ever talked about the process of writing. John, once a journalist, didn’t see himself as a literary man, just a thorough writer doing a job. The one piece of advice I remember him giving me was to stick a postcard with £100 written on it above my desk and look at it every time I thought of giving up. But far more inspiring than anything he could have said was the simple act of him sitting five yards from me day after day at his desk with his head down and a hangover, writing himself a novel on lined paper. And I suppose, at the most primitive level, I decided that if he could do that, I could.

I lived in Great Missenden in those days and commuted to Marylebone station, then walked or took the bus to Curzon Street. The train journey was an hour plus, so I wrote in small notebooks supplied, I am ashamed to say, by Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. I just wrote. And the first person who came to mind was the man who got me going: John Bingham, one of the meek who do not inherit the earth.

But no real character in my experience is drawn directly from life, and for George Smiley I needed a lot of things that John simply hadn’t got and didn’t wish to have: an obsession with German literature (although he spoke decent German), a miserable private life, a sense of being strapped to the secret treadmill and not knowing how to get off it, and most importantly serious moral questions about the work I was doing. John was, to say the least, a nationalist, and doubts of that sort were simply not his thing, particularly when his every evening was spent buoying up women agents who were, in their estimation and his, sacrificing their private lives for England. So where to turn?

Well, my own life had been pretty well supplied with moral doubt, not least by my father, a conman on the run from the law. But I needed more stately concerns for George Smiley, bred in me in part by the unsparing plays of Schiller, Lessing and Büchner and the anguished cries of 17th-century Germany.

But Smiley is not at heart an academic. In the beginning was not the word but the deed, Goethe tells us through the agency of his Faust, and Smiley refuses to shirk from action where he believes in the rightness of his cause. And so it seems to me now, with the luxury of hindsight, that for Smiley’s conflicted inner life I resorted to my beloved mentor, Dr Vivian Green, by then rector of Lincoln College, Oxford: scholar, administrator, closet iconoclast and Anglican priest whose institutional faith over time gave way to a universal humanism. I don’t know any more whether you will find the seeds of all this theorising in my first stab at George Smiley, but I do. We have grown up together, changed and matured together, and seen his likeness exquisitely portrayed by two great actors, Alec Guinness and Gary Oldman. But for me he’s still the same soul-searching secret sharer that I wrote about in little notebooks on the rattly commuter train from Great Missenden to Marylebone.

Extracted from Call for the Dead by John le Carré; the 60th anniversary edition is published by Penguin Classics on Thursday.

#John le Carré #George Smiley #call for the dead #60th anniversary edition #introduction to 60th anniversary edition #books #long post #John le Carre #introduction

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mistymark · 5 years ago

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VIGILANTE/S IV

part four // 2.8k words // superpowered!au // (sort of) gang!au // series masterlist

summary; in which you consider yourself somewhat of a vigilante.

warnings; swearing, mentions of death, weapons and killing, gang shit really

notes; this fic is now 10k words and that's a personal record so damn

“I hear training was a success,” Doyoung says when he returns from Jaehyun’s ‘errand’.

You roll your eyes, your jaw set. You don’t look at him, focusing instead on the camera footage Mark had given you to watch. A notepad sat in your lap as you sat cross-legged on your bed, the computer in front of you. The footage was over 12 hours long, showing only a large gate leading to an estate that looked to be the size of a museum. The leader of the Red Crown lived there, you knew, and you were supposed to watch and record who was entering and exiting through the gate during the 12-hour time period.

“I’m being serious.” You finally look over at Doyoung, standing in the doorway, and the expression on his face almost resembles pride. He’s never been anything but serious, but he seems more playful now. “You beat Johnny.”

“He beat me about fifty times,” you deadpan, giving him a pointed look before shifting your attention back to your notepad. Doyoung walks in and looks around the room, as if it’s his first time seeing it – like it would help him understand you.

“What was your time?” He asks, his back to you.

“Fifteen twenty?” The worst fifteen minutes and twenty seconds of your life, probably. He looks at you, and for a moment you can’t read the expression on his face.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t say anything. Briefly turning his attention away from you, he stops to look at the drawings and photos attached to the wall, his face stoic again. He’s looking at the detailed sketches of weapons – disturbingly realistic, in your opinion – that adorn the wall by the door. The others were strangely anatomical – surprisingly accurate hand-drawn outlines of bodies were pinned against another bare wall. One had a skeleton, another vital organs, and one had the bloodstream mapped out beautifully. Hand-written notes were scribbled across the paper – you’d attempted to read them but the messy scrawl was illegible.

“What’s this?” When he turns around, you hold up one of the leather-bound journals you’d found on the bedside table. It was quite possibly the creepiest thing you’d ever read. One of the entries had just read, January 16th, tried knives again. Sixteen stab wounds. Mostly torso, though heart was avoided. Twelve hours exactly. Another, only two days later, was simply: January 18th, bullet between the eyes (removed). 6.4mm. Four hours.

You’d wondered if the owner was an interrogator like Doyoung – or just a torturer. Part of you was glad you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet him. From what it appeared, none of the others really missed him, either.

Doyoung furrows his eyebrows, “Don’t read that. It’s personal.”

“The guy’s dead.”

You’re unsure if Doyoung hears you, as he chooses to focus on the pictures on the walls once again. Your personal favourite was in the closet, attached to the inside of the door, otherwise hidden from sight. It was a mix of charcoal and red paint, barely resembling a face, but it felt more personal than the ones on the walls, tucked away in the closet where no one would see. It wasn’t nearly as detailed or clear as the other posters, and you had stared at it for almost two minutes before realising what it was.

“The first time Donghyuck fought Johnny, he didn’t even get a time.” Doyoung’s voice sounds far away as he recalls the memory. You wish he hadn’t blocked you from using his powers so that you could see whatever he was remembering.

“What about you?”

“About fifteen seconds.” He snorts at your expression. “Don’t be discouraged.” His attention suddenly moves to the door, and you follow his gaze, though nothing is there. With a nod, he leaves.

You’re left alone again, and you wonder what it is with these boys and never saying goodbye.

You’ve managed to speed up the footage just enough to make your task bearable but have to pause it when a familiar black van enters the shot. It’s identical to the one you’d seen at the Den on the night you met the team, but the number plate is different. This number plate is familiar in a different way. Unlike every other vehicle that had passed through the gates, the driver’s window does not slide down. No ID card is able to be captured.

You know exactly who it is – the only person who can enter the estate without having to show credentials. The Red Prince.

Even though the footage is far too grainy to make out anything in the mirrors, you swear you can see his reflection. Eyes that stare directly into the camera, as if he knows you’re watching. You wonder if he knows he’s being watched, that a group of Supers had managed to hack into his security system.

The gate slides open wide, and the eyes disappear. You shiver.

“Y/n?” You’re shaken from your thoughts when a voice calls you from the other side of your door.

“Come in!”

“Wow,” Mark offers you a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Donghyuck never lets me in his room.”

“Well-,” you shrug, then hesitate. You realise you have no idea what to say to him. At least, you don’t have anything to say that isn’t insensitive. Clearing your throat, you push your notepad to the side, “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” his eyes scan the walls, taking in the inside of the room, “Johnny needs the notes from the security footage by tonight. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Thanks, Mark.” You can feel how tight your smile is, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He turns to leave, but just as the door’s about to close, he pops his head back inside the room, “Oh, by the way, don’t be worried about training today. Johnny was impressed.” He smiles. “Have a good night, y/n.”

It’s almost midnight by the time you get to the end of the footage. 14 vehicles entering, 10 leaving. And you know the licence plates and drivers of them all.

You feel uncomfortable watching the footage, being right at the gate but unable to enter. Your determination to get in there and take down the Red Crown is strong, frustration bubbling inside you. Everything they’re doing goes against what you believe in, and there’s something about your anger that makes you stand up and head to the kitchen. The walls of Jaehyun’s office are transparent again, and the light is on , even though you know he can’t see you, you freeze when his eyes snap up from his laptop.

It’s weird being unable to hear or see the other team members walking around, and the warehouse feels much emptier without them. Soft snoring makes you jump, and you smile at the sight of Jaemin passed out on a couch nearby, his breaths steady, though slightly too fast. Part of you was surprised by how fast he seemed to live his life, though he had told you he had to consciously slow himself down most of the time. “It’s like letting someone win in a race by running slower than them,” he’d explained. “You know you can go faster and beat them, but you don’t. Like constantly coming second place.”

“Does it get frustrating?” You’d asked.

“Almost unbelievably so,” he’d smiled at you, though you could see some inner turmoil behind his eyes.

When you’re filling a glass with water, Jaehyun steps out of his office, the door closing loudly, snapping you out of your thoughts. His feet are soft on the floor – you almost don’t hear him coming. “Can’t sleep?” He’s reaching for a mug on the shelf behind you, and you sidestep to move out of his way.

“I just needed to clear my head,” you swallow, and quickly take a drink of water as an excuse not to elaborate.

Jaehyun slides the mug under the coffee machine, and watches it whir to life. Only now can you read the words printed on the side, ‘World’s Greatest Boss’. You snort when you see it. He turns his head to look at you, and raises an eyebrow. There’s something different in the way he does it. Normally, when he does this, it’s questioning, analytical, intimidating. Now? You’d say it’s borderline flirtatious. It takes you a second to realise why it seems so different.

He’s standing in front of you, leaning over the counter top, waiting for his coffee – in sweatpants. He’s mindlessly biting the inside of his cheek, and you realise you’ve never noticed he has dimples. Probably because he never smiles.

“What?” He’s frowning slightly, but when he looks like this, it just looks cute. The furrow in his brow almost looks guarded, as if he’s worried you’re about to say something offensive.

“Uh,” you look down, collecting your thoughts, then a smile appears on your face. “Your mug, I-”

He looks down at it, and there’s the ghost of a smile on his face, “The first birthday present Johnny ever got me.”

“It’s…cute,” you say it more like a question than a compliment. A loud thud makes you both stand tall, staring into the darkness to make out any movement. There’s a quiet yawn, and the sound of retreating footsteps. You turn back to Jaehyun, and any emotion he’d displayed in the last two minutes was wiped from his face. His face is hard again, and he looks more like the man you’d seen earlier. He looks older, authoritative. “I’m gonna get some rest. I hear training tomorrow is going to be intense,” you offer him a smile.

His attention has moved from you again, staring into the darkness of the warehouse. He bids you goodnight without looking at you, carrying his coffee gently to his office, his mind somewhere else.

You leave your glass in the sink, promising yourself you’ll wash it in the morning, before making your way back to your room.

You can hear faint murmurs coming from another room, but the walls are so thick you can’t make out any of the words. Moving the laptop from your bed to the set of drawers next to the door, you prepare for bed.

The door suddenly bangs open, and a duffel bag is dropped onto the floor noisily. You gasp in shock and the person in the doorway looks just as surprised to see you. “Who are you?” He asks, frozen right there in the middle of the doorway.

“Y/n. Who-” His eyes are wide and calculating, searching the room.

“Well, what are you doing here, y/n?” He crosses his arms, looking at you skeptically.

“I’m part of the team. I-”

“I meant, what are you doing in my room?”

You’re struggling to keep up with the conversation at this point. You shake your head. “Your room – ? Wait, you’re Donghyuck? You’re dead.”

His gaze is fierce, “I was dead. I’m not anymore. Now, I’m tired. And I’d like to sleep in my own bed.” He walks into the room, rifling through the drawers of the dresser, looking for something.

Reaching out for his power, you can feel it thread through your body, though it’s more painful than invigorating, very different to most of the power you can feel in other Supers. “You’re immortal.”

“Obviously,” he doesn’t even turn around.

A lightbulb goes off in your head as the journals on the bedside table catch your attention, “So the journals – you… you were killing yourself?”

Donghyuck rounds on you, “You read my – ? Okay, you’re clearly new to the team. Rule number one; never read anyone’s journal.” At the confused look on your face, he rolls his eyes, “We all have them. You’ll get yours soon. To track your drawbacks; track your strength.”

You raise an eyebrow at him from where you’re sitting on your – his – bed. “Drawbacks?”

“Damn, okay. Rule number two; know your drawbacks. The limits of your power. We all have them. Jaemin’s is how much he has to eat and sleep. Chenle and Mark lack control.” He gestures to his journals before turning back to the drawers, “As you can see, mine is time. Takes a long time to come back to life.” You barely hear it when he mumbles, “Surprise, surprise.”

“You just kill yourself over and over again?”

“Pretty much.” He finds what he’s looking for but doesn’t take it out from the drawer. He turns to face you again, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed once again. “What do you do?”

“I mimic other people’s abilities.”

His eyebrows raise slightly and he whistles lowly in appreciation, but he doesn’t say anything. “Drawback?”

“Uh… I guess it’s distance. If they’re too far away, it’s like I can’t reach their power.”

He nods in understanding, then furrows his eyebrows, “Johnny will have you training with all of us, then. Have you done ability training yet?”

You shake your head.

“How long have you been here?”

“One day,” you shrug.

“Wait, you’re the one Doyoung brought in?”

You pause, then nod.

“Ah, Jeno killed me before we could meet, I guess.”

“Jeno killed you?!” Your voice is high and loud. Jeno was much stronger, much faster, much more skilled than you were. You had no chance against him if he ever decided you were his next target. Donghyuck’s eyes widen at the loud noise, and he crosses the room to shut the door, “Shit, calm down. I’m immortal – it’s not like it’s a big deal. Almost everyone here has killed me at least once, though he does hold the record.” The side of his mouth quirks up to the side in a smile that you would almost call cute. Maybe if he wasn’t talking about his friend murdering him, he’d be cute.

You don’t know what to say to that. “You’re insane.” That works.

He shrugs, “Jeno’s always been impatient.”

“So he just kills you. Logical.” The disbelief in your voice makes him laugh.

“Rule number three; never get Jeno angry. His drawback is his anger.”

“Holy shit, where were you when I joined? I could have used some of this information.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Well, first of all, I was dead. Then I had to go out of town for a day – and here I am.”

You nod, “Right.”

Donghyuck grabs his bag and turns it upside down onto the top of the bed. You aren’t quite sure what you were expecting to come out, but it certainly wasn’t guns. You wait for something – anything – normal to drop out, yet it seems like it’s just guns. At least fifteen of them, ranging in size. You don’t say anything.

He takes one look at your face and immediately explains, “I just bought them. Our weapons dealer is based in China – Winwin? He’s a friend of Jaehyun’s – and he just got into the city two days ago. Jaehyun made me go pick them up.” Under all the posters and sketches on the wall, the walls are painted a bright red, and the subtle blush on Donghyuck’s face almost matches them completely.

“I didn’t realise there was more of you,” you say.

“Us.” You look up in confusion, and he offers you a smile, “More of us.” He clears his throat, his attention going back to the weapons on the bed, “Yeah, Jaehyun has connections everywhere. Japan, China, you name it.”

Carefully, he places the guns in boxes and stacks them in the corner of his room. He brushes off his hands on his thighs, “Look, I’m happy to take the couch tonight, but don’t get any ideas. This is my room, and I fully intend on taking it back after –“ He cuts himself off with a yawn and you raise an eyebrow at him. Rolling his eyes, he heads for the door, giving you an awkward bow of his head as he closes the door.

You feel a little bad about stealing his room, but you’re so tired, you don’t have enough time to think about it before you’re drifting off to sleep in his bed.

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hailing-stars · 5 years ago

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hailing and frosty’s irondad fic list of fun

This is gonna by exactly what the title says!! A fic list of fun, and that highlights some of the fics that we have shared with each other and talked about this year. some fics we think you might not know about, so if you’re bored over the holidays or hiding from your family, you’ll have some quality irondad content to keep you company.

We both choose a handful of fics we thought deserved a little more love. We’ll start with @frostysunflowers‘ picks!!

Of Fevers and Thankfulness by @awesomesockes @whumphoarder

Sick Peter, brilliant humour, team dynamics (these guys do the characters such justice in their fics in the best ways) and irondad - what more do you neeeed?

Ice Princess by @sallyidss

Wholesome irondad content right here featuring some ice skating and a creative insight into Tony’s younger years - a true treat!

What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood by @xxx-cat-xxx

This is such an emotional gut punch of a fix-it. Many tears are likely to be shed reading this because it’s such a realistic and moving portrayal of what Tony’s recovery would be like after Endgame, plus tons of irondad moments guarded to make your heart ache.

Courage of stars by @lunannex

Soft and sweet with plenty of the irondad comfort that will give you all the fuzzy feels!

rose-colored glasses by @ciaconnaa

Ciaconnaaa is a treasure who deserves to be screamed about daily for her all fics. Some people aren't a fan of the gender swap trope but this is done to true perfection featuring female Tony, an awesome spin on the irondad dynamic whilst still remaining so in character and tons of great humour. Read it now for a fantastic time!

leave me (deja vu) by @ambivalentmarvel

Seeing Peter and Tony’s relationship through the eyes of other characters is always interesting, and this is such a unique way of portraying that concept while giving attention to other dynamics too. Gorgeously written and quietly powerful, a must read for sure.

Special mention to @friendlyneighborhoodsecretary who is SUCH an incredible writer. So much beauty and emotion goes into every single fic and each one is more unique and captivating than the last especially this fabulous Happy Hogan series.

You’re a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter’s night

Aaaannd of course there must be a shameless self promo so here is my latest fic featuring Tony and Peter navigating their way through the lingering grief of May’s death and finding a little of their Christmas spirit together.

-Cleo aka @frostysunflowers

a crazy old lady and a tarnished gold watch by @icymapletree

An irondad freaky Friday AU?? YES JUST WHAT WE NEED. Basically Peter and Tony swap bodies and the result is of course hilarious. A must-read, honestly.

It’s Karma Kid by @ironfamjam

A grandpa Tony fic to love and adore. So soft, so beautifully written. Tony talks Peter through fatherly panic after his son is born.

mime under arrest by @spideynamu

LMAO Peter gets stabbed by a mime cause he’s too polite. This is hilarious, and whumpy, and everything you need. 10/10 for Peter vs mime.

they are standing in the garden by @ardenskyedarcy221b

Peter haunts Tony in a post Infinity War world, beautifully sad and hopeful, beautifully written.

The Hand of Fate by @blondsak

The Signs AU the fandom didn’t know it needed. It’s lovely, heart wrenching, and horrifying, and contains protective dad Tony Stark. seriously what more do you need in a fic? go read, go read it right now.

And my special mention has to go to @seek-rest for Where You Invest Your Love (You Invest Your Life). Ben Parker is really more the focus here, which is why it goes in the special mentions. We see so little of him in this fandom, and this fic IS EVERYTHING. Really just a look at Ben’s life, at all the important moments, leading up to the afterlife, where he watches and muses about Tony Stark mentoring his boy. A MUST READ.

I will shamelessly self-promo my fic where Tony is literally Santa Claus cause why not?

-hailing

We wanted to end this list by saying that it’s literally impossible to list all the overlooked fics that have been posted this year. This fandom has been blessed with so much talent, we’d be here all day listing every single one, so instead, we’re asking you to help. If you loved an irondad fic this year (that isn’t listed above), and you’re already going to reblog this anyway, please reblog with a link to your favorite fic of the year and share it with us. We’d love that!

happy holidays, everyone! we hope you have a great New Year!!

#irondad fic #irondad #fic rec list #fic rec #please add on to it!#that would be lovely!#Tony stark #Peter parker

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archivingspn · 4 years ago

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2018: Twitter- pasladeuxieme, battingpractice, and TeamFreeWillBT

Context: After the SPNUK 2018 J2M panel question about eyefucking being a stage direction in scripts between Dean and Cas, several factions began engaging in discussions and arguments about the intent behind the spn writers’ word choice. In response to this, on May 8th 2018, pasladeuxieme tweeted out a series of tweets and screenshots from 8x02′s yellow pages to show where they remembered seeing the use of “eye-fuck” in the script as shorthand for an intense stare for the brothers, Sam and Dean.

pasladeuxieme: “Was telling Bri while I couldn't remember one between Dean and Cas, I could vaguely remember seeing 'eyefuck' in the stage directs of one of the scripts we have - found it :p ‘[image:

"What's Up, Tiger..." Yellow Pages 7/26/12 9. 2 CONTINUED : 12

SAM So things like that don't ever happen again.

Ms. Tran takes that in the pain of Eunis still fresh. Then-- she EYES Kevin.

MS. TRAN Prophet of the lord, huh? (then, a warm smile) That does have a nice ring to it.

A note of approval-- Kevin smiles sweetly...

MS. TRAN I'll get packed. Ms. Tran makes for her bedroom.

Dean turns to Sam--

DEAN We're gonna need a new safe-house, since Crowley's been to the cabin--

MS. TRAN (stopping in her tracks) Safe house? I thought we were going after the tablet?

DEAN We are. You're taking a trip to the demon-free zone.

MS. TRAN And risk letting Kevin fall into the hands of this Crowley, again? (then, firm) I don't think so.

Sam and Dean exchange an EYEFUCK-- here we go.

SAM Ma'am, Dean's right. Crowley-- he's not just a killer. He trades in torment. And if he can find a way to separate you from your soul? He'll take it to Hell and roast it 'til there's nothing but black smoke...]’”- 9:19 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “So many EXPRESSIONS being swapped between these hunter sibs. 5 dollars says Dabb wrote these stage directions with a thesaurus at hand ‘[image: "What's Up, Tiger..." Yellow Pages 7/26/12 10. CONTINUED: (2) 12

MS. TRAN So, a soul is more valuable than a life?

SAM Ma'am, a soul is forever. Your life is just a vessel... (then) It would really be best if you left this to us.

Ms. Tran takes a good long beat to consider that. Then--

MS. TRAN I understand. (then) But it's not my soul I'm worried about-- it's my son's.

She's STRONG. Sam and Dean trade an OMINOUS LOOK-- fearing the worst. Then turn to Kevin.

DEAN Gonna back us up here, Kev? (then) We came all the way out here to pull her ass out of the fire and now she wants to jump back in.

KEVIN Like I can tell her what to do.

Sam and Dean exchange a KNOWING NOD.

DEAN Coming with has conditions. Hex bags to keep you off the bad guys' radar. And you're gonna have to ink up.

KEVIN Do what now?

SAM You too, short stop--]’” - 9:24 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

battingpractice: “wait i found it ‘[image: (then) Sunshine and sandy beaches.

Satisfied, Dean goes all-in for the PIB. Kevin processen that for a beat-- watching Dean take a fork to the pie.

KEVIN Dean. My Mom's all alone-- And surrounded by Demons. (then) Can you really not understand why I want to make sure she's okay?

That stops Dean COLD-- fork hovering by his mouth. Dean looks over to Sam-- remembering his own Mother. Sam gives him a slight shrug, knowing the kid's right.

Dean eyes his pie, perched beautifully on the end of his fork-- he wants that bite so badly.

DEAN Son of a bitch.

Dean STABS his fork into the PIE, moving out of the BOOTH. Kevin SMILES, victorious, and we're on the move--]’“ - 9:26 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “Here's an eyefuck involving everyone's favorite King of Hell ‘[image: SAM all good-- just need to come up with a Plan B.

Then-- a familiar VOICE from off-camera.

CROWLEY (O.S.) what, pray-tell, could possibly have been Plan A?

The boys BURN-- and TURN to see CROWLEY. Standing smug.

CROWLEY Bring the prophet to the most dangerous place on earth, memorize the tablet and then-- va-moose?

That one's pointed at Sam-- a weary eye-fuck from the boys.

CROWLEY Oh, and salutations, by the way.

BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT TWO]’”- 9:27 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

battingpractice: “Meanwhile, the same episode's direction for D-C is "Dean locks eyes with Cas, FIRM" which ends up as an actual eye f-u-ck but was not actually spelled out that way in the script ‘[image:

DEAN No. (then, to Cass) Cass, we're getting outta here. We're going home.

That word hits Cass hard-- something about it makes him visibly ANXIOUS.

CASTIEL Dean, I can't--

DEAN Yeah, we can. Tell him.

He's talking to Benny. The monster shrugs.

BENNY Purgatory's got an escape hatch, but I got no idea if it's angel friendly.

Dean locks eyes with Cass, FIRM.

DEAN We'll make it work. (then) I need you, Cass. And if the Chompers wanna take a shot, I say let 'em. We ganked those bitches]’”- 9:32 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “Not an eyefuck but here are some Destiel-y stage directions around the iconic "too much heart was always Castiel's problem" 😢 ‘[image:

what's Up, Tiger..." Yellow Pages 7/26/12 28. CONTINUED: (3) 25

ALFIE You know, there are some in Heaven who still believe that, despite mistakes, Castiel's heart was always in the right place.

DEAN You one of 'em?

ALFIE I think... too much heart was always Castiel's problem.

Alfie moves off and we hold on Dean-- the angel's words hitting home. CUT TO--

EXT. CLEARING - PURGATORY - DAY (FLASHBACK)]’“- 9:49 PM May 8, 2018

[source]

pasladeuxieme: “No textusl eyefucks in 9x23, but check out the stage directions for Cas reacting to Metatron advising Dean is dead - "Castiel reacts - stunned" got turned into everything Misha did there.... ‘[image:

"Do You Believe in Miracles?" Pink Pages 4/16/14 39. 44 CONTINUED: 44

METATRON Ah. So, Gadreel bites the dust, the Angel Tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe, is in pieces... And for what, now? That's right. To save Dean Winchester. (then) That was your cause wasn't it? You draped yourself in the flag of Heaven but, ultimately, this was all to save a human, wasn't it? Well, guess what? He's dead too.

Castiel reacts, stunned, as-- CHUNK! His arms are suddenly CUFFED to the chair.

METATRON And you're sitting in my chair.

45 INT. ABANDONED PLANT - NIGHT 45

Dean bleeds out on the ground. Alive, but barely. Sam tears up bits of his shirt to fashion a tourniquet. All business.]’“ - 2:48 AM May 9, 2018

[source]

Context: Three years afterwards, May 20 2021, TeamFreeWillBT made a different thread on three additional instances of eyefucking plus the ones found in 8x02:

TeamFreeWillBT: “Eyef*cks in the Supernatural scripts 8.02 What's Up, Tiger Mommy? 13.08 The Scorpion and the Frog 13.21 Beat the Devil ‘[image:

A note of approval-- Kevin smiles sweetly...

MS. TRAN I'll get packed. Ms. Tran makes for her bedroom.

Dean turns to Sam--

DEAN We're gonna need a new safe-house, since Crowley's been to the cabin--

MS. TRAN (stopping in her tracks) Safe house? I thought we were going after the tablet?

DEAN We are. You're taking a trip to the demon-free zone.

MS. TRAN And risk letting Kevin fall into the hands of this Crowley, again? (then, firm) I don't think so.

Sam and Dean exchange an EYEFUCK-- here we go.

[image: SAM all good-- just need to come up with a Plan B.

Then-- a familiar VOICE from off-camera.

CROWLEY (O.S.) what, pray-tell, could possibly have been Plan A?

The boys BURN-- and TURN to see CROWLEY. Standing smug.

CROWLEY Bring the prophet to the most dangerous place on earth, memorize the tablet and then-- va-moose?

That one's pointed at Sam-- a weary eye-fuck from the boys.

CROWLEY Oh, and salutations, by the way.BLACKOUT.END OF ACT TWO]

[image: As Dean turns the key in the lock-- it opens with A CLICK to REVEAL-- BONES. A WHOLE DUSTY SKELETON'S WORTH.

SHRIKE Bart's bones. You burn them, he dies too. THAT'S my leverage. (then) You're on the wrong side of this, boys-- (a loaded beat) Just gotta ask yourselves if you can live with that.

The boys eye-fuck. Can they?

BART (O.S.) He's right, those ARE my bones.

Sam, Dean and Smash look up-- THERE'S BART! Standing next to Shrike.]

[image:

GABRIEL My tank's a little low right now. Getting vengeance took a lot out of me, and even on a good day, I-- (sheepish, defensive) I have a long refractory window, okay? (then, confident) But archangel grace? It's like, the Four Loko of angelic emissions. It'll be more than enough to get the job done.

Off Gabe's confidence, our heroes eyefuck. It's go time.

QUICK CUTS:

--Our heroes LOAD UP for battle, dressing/ARMING themselves for Apocalypse World. Angel blades, knives, guns. Apocalypse World-appropriate clothing.

INT--MEN OF LETTERS - LIBRARY MOMENTS LATER 4]’“- 7:39 PM May 20, 2021

[source]

TeamFreeWillBT: “9.05 Dog Dean Afternoon ‘[image:

DYLAN --and it's not like we could go to the cops--

OLIVIA --so now we look like total douche bags *cause we have to wear sunglasses inside.

Olivia and Dylan removes their sunglasses to reveal... puffy, bloodshot eyes, surrounded by dead tissue? It looks like textbook gangrene. As Sam and Dean eyefuck--

DEAN (PRE LAP) Necrosis?

INT. MOTEL - DAY

Sam sits in front of his laptop. Dean looks over his shoulder, bottle o’ beer in hand.]’”- 7:39 PM May 20, 2021

[source]

8.02 What's Up, Tiger Mommy?

Written by: Andrew Dabb and Daniel Loflin

9.05 Dog Dean Afternoon

Written by: Eric Charmelo and Nicole Snyder

9.23 Do You Believe in Miracles?

Written by: Jeremy Carver

13.08 The Scorpion and the Frog

Written by: Meredith Glynn

13.21 Beat the Devil

Written by: Robert Berens

#2018-May #2018:May8 #*destiel #*eyefucking #*spn 8x02 #*spn 9x05 #*spn 9x23 #*spn 13x08 #*spn 13x21 #writer: Andrew Dabb #writer: Daniel Loflin #writer: Eric Charmelo #writer: Nicole Snyder #writer: Jeremy Carver #writer: Meredith Glynn #writer: Robert Berens #Twitter #*scripts

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behindtherobinsmask · 4 years ago

Text

tagged by @runnfromtheak

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. I write the most random things so if you can actually find a pattern then... let me know. Help a fool out.

P.S. - I know it says opening line and not paragraph but come on, that doesn’t do any story justice.

Gonna do my tags before because this turned out to be longer than expected - @elwon @stevieraebarnes @epistemologys

1. All The Times Damian Wayne Felt Loved

This was a birthday fic I wrote for a darling friend of mine. The whole time I was writing this my biggest fear was that the characters were going to... just not be right. Still have that fear.

“Gripping onto a pillow, Damian walked down the dark halls of his grandfather’s house, uncertainty clouding every step that he made. At this hour of the night, no one seemed to be around yet he could feel eyes watching his every move. The eyes of the stars in the sky, the moon and the many trained soldiers that had years of practice when it came to blending into the shadows. It was their presence that forced him to walk with his head held high, to bat away the tears in his eyes and pretend that everything was alright. Pretend that he wasn’t afraid.”

2. To all the stars that are listening

Another birthday fic (maybe that was the pattern all along jk). I actually really enjoyed writing this fic because I felt like I was back in my zone (my zone being angst). Can’t wait to get started on the second part.

“Dick’s life had been anything but ordinary since he was a child. As someone who grew up in the circus, his morning was spent studying with the other kids that travelled with his troupe while in the afternoon, he practiced with his heart and soul to fly as beautifully as his parents. In the nights, he’d stand on the sidelines and watch them perform, absolutely awed by the way their bodies moved, each twist, each turn so seamless, every difficult stunt seemed easy in their skin. Clinging onto the edge of the tent, he wished with all his heart that someday, he could be just like them. A bird freed. With every wish, his voice grew louder and louder until somewhere, up above, a star heard his cry. It heard his desire to be free. The chains that grounded him slowly slipped away and he flew with practiced grace. And just as Dick spread his wings, his parents fell. Birds flightless.

Freedom he had asked for and freedom he had received.”

3. Come here, won’t you hold my hand?

Listen, I spend hours of my life playing genshin impact. Did you really think I wouldn’t write a fic for it?

“After chasing the traveler away, Xiao sighed, wondering if now was the time to head back to Wangshu Inn. There he could stay away from the harbour and its people, away from the wishes made on stars that could never hear them, away from their fragile happiness that he could shatter with a single touch. Someone like Xiao, so burdened with sins, could never mingle among the mortals without bringing harm. Wherever he went, only misery ever followed. But even though he knew that it would be best for him to leave, a part of him, as silly as it was, worried that the journey back would make him miss out on the opportunity to see an old friend. While he never attended the Lantern Rite in Liyue, he always made sure to catch a glimpse of the Mingxiao lantern that always honored the adepti. It was only at that moment that he could lose himself to the past momentarily and remember a time when he wasn’t so alone, when his battle wasn’t only his to fight.”

4. Jon Kent Must Die

A jaydick flashfic challenge gave birth to this crack series and I will happily go down with this ship. I’ve written too many of these and maybe, in the future I’ll write more. Who will stop me? God? I don’t think so.

“Damian was sick and tired of his siblings.

Never had he met two people who were so dependent on their partners that they needed them around 24/7. It didn’t matter whether it was day or not, whether they were at the manor or in their respective homes, wherever his brothers went, their fool boyfriends seemed to follow. The obligatory family dinner had been turned into a circus with Todd’s usual clownery that had Damian rolling his eyes so hard that sometimes he was afraid they’d just pop out of his skull. Kent was no better. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had encouraged Todd’s rambling as though he was God’s chosen prophet, sharing his truth with the world. Damian really wished, just for a day, the two of them would simply go away. It wasn’t that he missed his siblings or anything. He just wished to have a conversation with Richard that didn’t end with him wanting to stab someone. Hopefully a 5’11 man with black hair with a streak of white and deep green eyes that could find a conspiracy in Titus’s preferred pose for napping.”

5. I wanna be in your arms by the sea (studying your freckles so curiously)

Yes. It’s another genshin impact fic. Sue me. (Please don’t I’m broke).

“Every night, Zhongli saw the same dream.

Caressed by the gentle winds of the Guili plains, he watched over his people, Guizhong’s people as they lived in prosperity, enjoying the calm and gentle wind that wrapped around them. Serenity was a blessing and they had an abundance of it. In the beginning, when Guizhong had described such a scene, something knit carefully in her imagination, he had not believed her. But now that he was seeing with his own two eyes, he was glad that he had agreed to her terms. Glad that he had formed a contract that had been beneficial for all.”

6. I stay up late and talk to the moon (And I can’t stop telling her all about you)

A christmas exchange fic that I loved writing because it really got me back into the writing for jaydick. It had been a while since I touched anything fandom related. Then this story happened.

“According to Jason, there weren’t many things that Bruce really got right. Not with his rules that could never be bent for anyone or his sickeningly righteous sense of justice. But if there was one thing Bruce excelled in, it was throwing the world’s most boring party ever. Every event that ever took place in the Wayne manor was the same. Classical music. Champagne flutes. Appetizers that could never replicate Alfred’s cooking and finally, the same old rich folks of Gotham who needed to be filled in on the latest gossip lest they melt into a puddle.”

7. Now I’m going down on you (proving what I want is true) Who told me I could write smut? Please take away my license. “Click. Click. Click. With a heavy sigh, Dick switched off the TV and tossed the remote aside after an hour of clicking through the channels, unable to find anything that would keep his mind occupied. Two weeks ago, during a drug bust with the rest of the bats, Dick had suffered an injury to his shoulder which he considered rather minor. But Alfred and Barbara said otherwise as he was benched until he healed, his own city taken over by other vigilantes while he was forced to sit at home and entertain himself with murder mysteries with plot twists he saw coming from a mile away. Unfortunately, even when he hit the gym to let go of some restless energy, he could only do the most basic of workouts, the kind that simply weren’t enough for someone who was so used to being active all day long.”

8. Wayne Boys Unsolved

Another crack fic that I really enjoyed writing. Poor Yvonne though. She was really suffering.

“Yvonne’s body was thrumming with excitement as she peeked out the window of her room, her eyes falling on the black car that just pulled up in front of her house. Four boys stepped out, ones that she was so very familiar with. After all, she had spent many nights watching every single video they uploaded on their blog. They were paranormal investigators of sorts, the kind that didn’t believe in the supernatural and lived to debunk the stories that revolved around each haunted location. Because people loved to watch them so, both alive and dead, the boys had become famous in every circle possible.”

9. You make me wanna die (I’m burning up in the light)

Another birthday fic and the first dark story I ever wrote. Writing this was fun but also nerve-wracking.

“I think we need a break.

Two years, three months, four days and seven hours. That was how long it had been since Jason had said those words to Dick, sitting in the middle of the bed they shared, silk sheets pooled around his scarred waist, the white of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, droplets of it swimming down his throat and across his bare chest that was bruised red with bite marks, across the autopsy scar that he had been reborn with. He looked like a picture, each feature painted so delicately with colours that pulled, that hypnotised and drowned. The fingers of his right hand flexed, parted and then brushed across the back of his neck, tracing the bond mark that tied him down to Dick, shuddering slightly under the imprint, his heady scent spreading across the room like a drug. Strong, so fucking strong that Dick could still taste it on his tongue. Looking like that, after everything they had done, when he opened his mouth, when he said the words that had been sitting on the tipping of his tongue, it was only to end everything that they were.”

10. Come fire up the night (make me feel alive)

Who told me I could write smut (2)

“Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, Dick lay in his bed, tired but unable to fall asleep, the ticking of the clock haunting him. Tick. He took in a deep breath. Tock. He closed his eyes. Tick. He tried to sleep. Tock. Every memory of Jason came rushing back to him. The dark hair with a streak of white that framed his chiselled face. The plump lower lip that he often dreamt about kissing, pulled between his teeth until Jason was groaning. The freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks. Those deep green orbs that gleamed with mischief, teasing and taunting, burning with unbridled fury, one look enough to make Dick’s knees tremble. And as goosebumps spread across his arms, he found himself waking up, lest he did something that he knew he would regret. Like calling up Jason and confessing feelings that were better left unspoken, buried in a special graveyard from which there would be no sudden resurrections.”

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prettyboy-parker · 5 years ago

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starker: the omega in the window

warnings: nff at the end, little bit of stucky, omegas are bought

“Steve, man, shut the fuck up.”

The table roars with laughter, except for Steve, who turns beet red.

“Sam, I swear to God. I’m just excited.”

Sam chuckles softly and shakes his head.

“I’m just teasing. But seriously, if I hear Buckyone more time, I’m going to snap.” He warns, clapping the blonde on the back. Tony smiles and looks down at his almost rock-hard pizza. All this past week, Steve’s only been talking about the omega his parents bought him from one of the private schools, a tiny brunette named Bucky. Some of the group has their doubts, like Clint, who swears everything Steve is saying is a lie. His main argument is that the omega is moving in ‘a week’,which is a ‘lame coverup.’

Tony’s happy for Steve, he really is, but it sucks that he wasn’t the first one to get an omega. His parents insist he needs to meet an omega before they buy him, which is ridiculous, because no one actually does that.

“You wanna come get Bucky’s collar with me after school, Tony?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, sure.” The other Alpha mutters, taking a sip of his apple juice.

Steve shoots him a thumbs up.

🌼🌼

“Do you even know where this place is?”

Steve smiles as they walk down the crowded streets of New York, blue eyes flicking around as he searches for Poppy Petals Omega Boutique.

“Yes. Maybe.” Steve replies and Tony rolls his eyes. There’s a light lavender awning a few stores away, and Tony could guess that’s where they need to be. They walk fast, faster than usual, but slow down when the sign comes into view. And holy shit,his heart stops when they reach the window.

There’s an omega in the window, sleeping on the luxury cream loveseat. He’s snuggled under the fluffy white blanket, lips parted as he naps. His face is gorgeous and peaceful, small freckles dotting his nose, glitter sweeping his plump cheeks. Even sleeping his hair is perfect, almond curls splayed on the pillow.

“Steve,” Tony croaks, eyes not leaving the window. The blonde stops next to him, humming in response. The omega opens his eyes, big whiskey colored orbs glinting with amusement. He smiles softly, sitting up and stretching his arms out in front of him. His white sweater slips down his shoulder, exposing the creamy pale skin underneath.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” Steve jokes, Tony’s brain trying to think of a witty comeback. The other alpha is already opening the front door, and Tony rushes after him.

The bell chimes on the door, and the inside smells so good, like vanilla and honey. An young-ish woman stands behind the cream wooden counter, thick glasses perched on her nose.

“Hi, how are you?” She asks, turning her attention back to the book in her hands. Steve looks uncomfortable, hands tucked into the pockets of his school issued slacks.

“Um, I need a collar for my new omega?” He asks, the woman not tearing her eyes away from her book.

“I can help!”

The voice is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. The omega from the window is standing between two displays, smiling wide. Tony’s awestruck, eyes dragging over his milky bare thighs.

“You’re gorgeous,” Tony says before Steve can ask anymore questions. The boy flushes beautifully, bashfully looking at the floor. The woman at the counter pulls Steve to one of the corners of the store, thank god, so he can revel in the omega a little bit longer.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” The omega purrs, tucking a soft curl behind his ear.

“Call me Tony, honey,” The alpha responds suavely, finally snapping out of his trance to get his charming, sweet talking personality back. The omega giggles and bounces on his bare feet.

“Hi, Tony!” He chirps, and wraps his arms around the older’s torso. It’s so omegan, hugging instead of a handshake as a greeting. Tony hugs back, and his skin is so soft, he could pet the boy forever.

“I’m Peter!” He giggles when he pulls away, practically vibrating with excitement. Tony yearns to get his hands on that skin again.

“Gorgeous name for a gorgeous omega, I say.” He quips with a wink, squeezing Peter’s bicep gently. The younger lets out a breathy little giggle, nuzzling against the lapel of Tony’s school blazer.

“You think I’m pretty?” He asks softly, eyes wide in disbelief.

“The prettiest I’ve ever seen, Jesus,” Tony, growls licking his dry lips because he’s got an armful of precious omega. Peter hums happily, keening at the praise.

“The sisters at the Pine say all omegas are pretty.” He lilts, and oh, that’s the- that’s the best omega private school in the state. Hell, even the east coast.

“Pine Hill?” Tony repeats as Peter runs his finger over the embroidered Anthonyon his breast pocket.

“Mhm! We get a time back home before visiting week.”

Tony open and closes his mouth a few times.

“Like, where the alphas come and pick an omega?” He confirms, and Peter nods excitedly, then widens his eyes.

“Wait, do you-“ Peter tries to form his words, “Do you want to come?”

“I’ll see if I’m free.”

Peter gasps and bounces up and down.

“Are you serious? I’ve never had an alpha come for me before!”He shouts, squeezing Tony tight. For a split second, the alpha thinks he’s gotten himself in to deep. But, he really wants an omega, and his parents will be proud, and Steve can’t be better than him.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to my parents, okay?”

“Yes! Okay! Aunt May! Guess what?”

🌼🌼

It’s relatively easy to find information on Peter.

With a little digging, he finds the school’s yearbook from the previous year, little Peter Parker with his gorgeous smile and perfect makeup on page 23. May Parker, his aunt, owns the Poppy Petals Omega Boutique, Peter sitting in the window whenever he’s home from school.

He decides to break the news over dinner.

“Mom? Dad?”

Maria and Howard look up from their fettuccine alfredo.

“I, um,” Tony has to cough and clear his throat, “I found an omega.”

Howard raises his eyebrows, almost approvingly. “And?”

“Yeah, well, his name’s Peter. Peter Parker. He goes to Pine Hill.”

His mother inhales sharply. Money’s never a problem for them, it won’t make a dent in their bank account, but probably the fact that Tony even knows what Saint Monica’s is caused the reaction.

“Pine Hill? He must be one of the best trained omegas out there.” She inclines, stabbing at her noodles. Tony nods, Howard still staying silent. “And where did you meet him?”

“I went with Steve to pick up something from that boutique in the city. He was there in the window,” Tony has to pause to take a breath. “God, mom, he’s beautiful.”

Maria smiles softly and Howard looks impressed.

“And visitation week is soon, I presume?” His mother presses. She always needs to know what’s going on and every little detail.

“Yeah, next Monday. The website says we need to call in and schedule an appointment if we have a specific omega in mind.” Tony tells her, pushing his noodles around impatiently. “I can call, if you want.”

“That would be very responsible of you, Anthony.” His father says, and Tony almost shoots him a glare, but remembers that he’s the one that’s going to pay thousands of dollars for his omega.

For Tony, dinner goes by way too slowly. He’s bursting with excitement when his parents dismiss him from the table, scrambling upstairs to his phone. He dials the school’s number, and a woman picks up immediately.

“Pine Hill School for Omegas, this is Abigail. How may I help you?”

“Hi, um, I was looking to meet an omega, possibly take him home?”

“Of course!” She chirps, and Tony leans back in his desk chair. “Do you want us to pair you up with an omega, or do you have one in mind?”

“I was interested in Peter Parker?” He says, and deep down inside he can’t believe this conversation is actually happening.

“Oh, yes! He’s a sweetheart. Is there a day next week which would be best for you?”

“Yeah, I don’t have football practice on Wednesday. That would be best.”Tony tells her, flipping a pen absentmindedly.

“That’s perfect. We have a spot open for 3:15. Will that work?”

“Sounds great.”

“You’re legal guardians will have to attend as well. Can I have a name for the appointment?”

“Tony Stark.”

There’s a silence from the receptionist.

“Mr. Stark, I had no idea. I’ll be seeing you Wednesday!”

“Yup. Thanks so much.”

“Have a nice day!”

He hangs the phone up, lets out a sigh, and smiles.

🌼🌼

“Mom, do I look okay?”

Maria rolls her eyes, squeezing Tony’s shoulder gently. The alpha continues to fiddle with his hair, looking at the reflection on the car window.

“You look wonderful, Anthony. He’ll love you.” She coos, swatting his hand away from his hand. Tony takes a deep breath and turns to the school.

It’s beautiful, really. Built in the late 1800’s, the school has two large towers and a rustic feel from the worn walls. The landscaping is a contrast to the building, greens and purples and blues around the front and down the path. Pine Hill School for Omegas is written above the huge double doors, the gold plated letters glinting in the April sun.

“Come on, we’ll be late.” His father huffs, gravel crunching under his shined Oxfords. His mother grabs Howard’s arm to steady herself, black heels not intended for walking on the small pebbles. Tony trails behind them, smoothing out his navy dress shirt. There’s more people than he would expect on a normal school day, alphas of all types getting out of their cars and heading inside.

The main lobby is cool, with tall windows and even bigger ceilings. There’s a giant, glittering, gold chandelier hanging over the white marble floors. There’s a receptionist desk to the right, and Tony’s parents wait beside the doors as he checks in.

“Hi, Mr. Stark!” The receptionist greets cheerily. The metal name tag on her desk reads Abigail Walter, the lady he spoke with on the phone. “You’re just in time. Peter and our Head of Affairs are ready to see you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Walter.” He responds with a impatient smile.

“Conference Room 15. Just keep going down this main hall, and it’s on the right.”

Tony flashes another smile and heads to his parents.

“Come on, mom!” Tony laughs, resisting the urge to sprint down the fucking hall to meet his omega. Maria smiles her warm smile, adjusting her blouse and following Tony. They locate Conference Room 15 pretty easily, and the door’s open, Tony’s breath catching in his throat because Peter is sitting at the side of the conference table.

“Tony! Tony!” He squeals, and Tony can’t help but smile wide, sitting down across from him. The omega is beaming, lips shiny with gloss. The woman from the store, May, sits next to him, lips drawn in a tight line. Another beta woman is at the head of the table, dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, bangs swept to the side.

“I’m Maria Hill, Head of Affairs at the school. We’ll be talking about how this all works, okay?”

The group spends the next hour going through stacks of paperwork. Peter doesn’t do anything, just sits there and sneaks glances of Tony. The alpha will wink when he meets Peter’s gaze, causing the little thing to flush prettily. There’s a lot of signing on dotted lines, and Tony’s pretty sure his signature has improved the most it ever has before. May agrees to letting Peter into the Stark family. Ms. Hill makes it clear that they can’t bar Peter from visiting his family or friends, which is perfectly understandable.

Truly, Tony will let him do anything his heart desires.

Ms. Hill asks the two to go get Peter’s luggage from his dorm, and the omega jumps up excitedly. It’s the first time Tony gets a glimpse of his school uniform, the top like his own but a pleated skirt on the bottom.

“Alpha, I can show you my dorm!” Peter exclaims, pulling Tony out of the office chair and into the main hallway.

“Peter, slow down!” The alpha chuckles as Peter rushes down the hall, to one of the sets of stairs in the corner. The boy giggles as Tony grips his waist, stopping them before the first set of stairs.

“You’re amazing,” He breathes, Peter pressed to his chest, staring at him lovingly.

“Can I have a kiss?” The omega asks quietly, so innocent and sweet Tony’s heart just melts. He laughs softly and presses his lips to Peter’s. He tastes like cake and cookies, and he’s so inexperienced it’s endearing.

“Mm, Alpha.” He purrs, nuzzling into Tony’s silk shirt.

“We have to get your stuff, baby.”

The pet name slips out so easily, and Peter likes it, if his wide smile says anything.

The omega babbles all the way up the stairs, and through the hallways, holding Tony’s hand as he winds his way through the dorm wing. The other omegas who are in the hall stare at them with jealousy. It pets Tony’s ego for sure, knowing that Peter’s the one who gets him.

They stop at room 237, a handmade sign reading Peter + Harley! in neon script under the worn numbers.

“We have a special knock.” Peter giggles, rapping his knuckles on the door in a rapid succession. The door swings open, a dark blonde omega standing inside.

“Pete, what-“ He stops mid-sentence when he catches a glimpse of Tony.

“Alpha, this is my best friend Harley! Harls, this is my alpha Tony!” Peter shares, pushing past Harley and pulling Tony into his dorm. It’s not terrible, not as big as Tony’s, but it doesn’t matter now.

“Peter, you didn’t tell me Tony fucking Stark was taking you home.” Harley snaps, collapsing on the wooden chair in front of his desk. Peter just giggles as he pushes Tony down onto the bed.

“I did! I said Tony, didn’t I?” He quips, pressing a kiss to Tony’s cheek as he hands him two duffle bags and a suitcase.

“There’s a million Tony’s.” Harley huffs as Peter shucks off his blazer.

“‘M gonna change, alpha, sit tight!” Peter giggles and fuck, he’s undressing down to his white lace panties. Tony has to lick his dry lips, because Peter is stunning, with miles of perfect skin and a tiny omega cock nestled in the lace.

“You’re staring,” Peter teases as he slips on a loose, white button up. It’s stylish, tied in the front with short sleeves. He pairs that with tiny white denim shorts, and he looks like a literal angel.

“How can I not?” Tony smiles as Peter kisses him softly. He hums happily, running his hands on the omega’s tiny waist.

“Save the sex for later, Peter.”

Peter pulls away quickly, face heated in embarrassment. Tony kisses his cheek and coos, slinging the two duffel bags over his shoulders.

“You’re so strong, Tony.” Peter purrs, eagerly peppering kisses onto the elder’s neck. The alpha just chuckles, holding his suitcase in one of his free hands.

“Bye Harley, ‘m gonna miss you.”

Peter squeezes Harley tight, reallytight, and the other omega grimaces.

“Keep in touch!” He squeaks, and Tony follows him out the door. The only sound in the hallway is the wheels of the suitcase on the burgundy carpet.

Peter asks a million questions a minute as Tony carries the case down the steps. It’s not even close to annoying, he answers every question to a T. He spots his parents and May standing in the lobby, making small talk.

“Are you ready, boys?” His mother asks sweetly, and Peter nods. He makes his way over to May, who holds him gently. Tony turns to his parents to give the two some privacy, May muttering something to her nephew.

“Take care of him.” May says to Tony, and he nods vigorously. He may be..a little intimidated by the older alpha and her hard stare. Peter takes Tony’s hand in his, nuzzling close into his arm.

“Alpha?” He asks softly as Tony’s parents shake May’s hand. Tony looks down at his boy, gazing into those wide honey eyes. “Are we going home?”

Tony laughs loudly and kisses those baby soft cheeks, causing Peter to squeal and giggle.

“We’re going to go out for dinner, how does that sound?” Howard speaks up, and Peter clasps his hands together happily.

Dinner is nice.

He orders Peter 3 different dishes, lobster, steak, and shrimp. He’s precious, eating the food with his thin fingers, practically moaning at each piece. The omega even took to nudging small pieces of steak at Tony’s lips, almost bursting into tears when Tony said he has his own food. Peter is thrilled when the waitress asks if they want desserts, and Maria encourages him to order as much as he wants. Peter teared up when Tony put his debit card in the check, expressing how he’s such a good alpha and I love you so much.

“Alpha?” Peter whispers in Tony’s ear during the car ride home, bellies full with expensive meals. “When we get home, can we- can you give me your knot?”

Tony has to bite his lip to keep from growling.

“Yeah baby,” He mutters against the shell of Peter’s ear. “You want my knot? You’ll get it, because you’re such a good boy.”

Tony licks up Peter’s neck, making the younger squirm. He smells delicious when he’s aroused, and Tony can see Howard’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as they pull in their driveway.

“Welcome home, baby boy.”

#starker #starker fic #my writing #abo dynamics #alpha tony #omega peter

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iwanttobeyourwonderwoman · 4 years ago

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Nobody Gives A Shit, Git (5)

Act 1, scene 1.

Brahmpur, India.

-Enter Lata-

-Spotlight shines on first box-

Kabir Durrani swinging his bat and looks out to the crowd

-Spotlight dims, and shines on second box-

Amit Chatterji, legs stretched out on a bench, jotting down lines of poetry.

-Spotlight dims and shines on third box-

Haresh Khanna placing the contents of his bag neatly on his desk.

-Spotlight dims on all 3 as Lata stares into the darkness-

-Exit Lata-

HELLO HELLOOOOOO and welcome back. Totally steering away from the tension of the elections for this post because I just finished watching A Suitable Boy on netflix the other day and as usual I have certain scenes stuck in my head that need to be discussed.

So an introduction, (And lots of spoilers ahead!)

Netflix’s latest indian release has been A Suitable Boy, an adaptation of a best selling book written by Vikram Seth (which i now kinda wanna read) and in collaboration with BBC studios, follows the lives of primarily Lata and Maan. Set in post partition independent India, it highlights the journey of self discovery as well as what the title suggests, the search for a suitable boy. Intertwined with lots of secrets and scandals, the show is overall captivating and takes a little bit of a modern twist, mainly because of the fact that the characters mostly speak in English!

The main actress, Lata, was portrayed beautifully as such a well educated and independent woman trying to follow her mother’s wishes of finding her a husband but battles with her own secret love for the dashing Kabir Durrani, a muslim star cricketeer of their school; amongst her slight attraction to her sister-in-law’s younger brother Amit Chatterji, a witty poet who holds the power to charm Lata’s brain as much as her heart, although much to her mother’s disapproval. Lastly, we have Haresh Khanna, a humble and talented cobbler who Lata’s mother has introduced her to as her choice of a suitable boy who is constantly fighting for Lata and her mother’s approval. Overall this aspect of the show somehow reminded me of GIlmore Girls, because of how close mother and daughter were, as were Lorelai and Rory and also how it was always a battle between Dean, Jess and Logan. But who did Rory, and Lata in this instance, really want to be with in the end amongst their romances with each of the 3 men.

So before starting on the show I had only heard of the title and that the lead role of Maan was played by Ishaan Khatter. The rest of the cast included Tabu, Ram Kapoor and so on. A stellar cast to bring out the dramatic tones of the show and highlight the political and religious unrest, scandals and romance all across the 6 episodes. I mean look at the stellar performance and chemistry between Ishaan and Tabu throughout the show!

Starting the first episode, I realise like I mentioned above, that most of the show is in English which is great for a potato like me so I don’t have to read subtitles. Did it match the setting of 1950s India? Initially I wasn’t sure because how do you portray the accuracy in culture if it’s all in English and then I realised a damn good cast is all you need, which they definately had. Also because its a collaboration with BBC, the show has some actors with stronger British or American accents than others, and yet they transition from speaking in English to Hindi or Urdu very seamlessly. I think this would really help to attract the non Indian crowd to also take an interest in the show, as well as the culture.

Now the whole series has been made to be very theatrical, hence the introduction to my post. Throwing in a little fun fact some might not know about me is that I used to study Theatre and Drama, which made my appreciation grow for this style of directing/acting because I feel like it’s hardly being used nowadays. That being said, i feel like having the show in English was key to bring out all the dramatic aspects of the series. I think many people did not like that or maybe could not understand little aspects of it. I loved it though I thought it was a clever way to show off the historical side as well as attract a bigger audience.

*More spoilers ahead!!*

My favourite scene though, was the ending of Episode 5!

Maan, in a fit of drunk rage and jealousy, had just stabbed his best fried Firoz.

Firoz enters the scene dragging his feet, hands clutched to his side, as blood gushes out of his stab wound. He stumbles and finally gives up as he falls to the ground and continues to bleed out as the scene ends. The best part is, the whole scene was set to be red in colour with very dim lighting all around but a huge spotlight on Firoz. Wow I cant even explain how well thought-out that scene was and how impactful of an ending they were able to portray in that episode. It’s like creating a whole other air of suspense and drama as you watch him as an audience bleeding out. I mean they could have just shown him bleeding out on the naturally lit street (but then again were streets ever well lit at night in that era???) But what I’m trying to say is that the whole show could have taken a very different direction but i very much enjoyed the theatrical direction.

Overall, I really liked the series, took me some time to get through all 6 episodes though, but it was worth it. It’s also quite a nice and simple reminder while watching that that was what people were doing at that time, without technology and so on. It also makes us think back to (the unfortunately stereotypical) topic of parents thinking that they have to find a suitable partner for their child after a certain age. I mean as bright as Lata was, she was still made to believe that she had to follow the path laid out for her by her mother when she was portrayed to be an excellent student of English Literature. I mean you could actually cross refer this series to A suitable Girl on netflix (a documentary focusing on 3 indian girls and how they’re parents and society pressurise them to get married as well how their married life ends up looking like) and the problem comes back to society, expectations, religion, pressure and just the indian culture.

So yes to end it all off, I do definitely recommend this show for primarily Indians but also to non indians to have a better understanding of issues ad culture of that time.

Cast - 5/5!!

Plot - 4/5

Ending - 3.5/5 (Why does she end up with Haresh!!!?????)

Acting - 5/5!!!

Set/costumes - 5/5

That’s about all I’ve got on this show to end off yet another topic really nobody cares about! Well I’m off to watch The bonus episode of Hookup Plan/ Plan Coeur on netflix which is a French series, which I also previously reviewd back in season . So as usual, my other writings can be found in the gituuuu tab so knock yourselves out folks!!

#ngasg #gituuuu

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beyond-the-mirror · 5 years ago

Text

Drunk uncle Dante explains: Christmas

So recently I watched a very funny video called Drunk uncle explains Christmas and I couldn’t help but think of uncle Dante trying (and failing miserably) to explain Christmas to a very curious little Nero.

In this context, Dante is visiting his parents’ house for the holidays (Eva and Sparda are still alive in this AU) as well as Vergil and his son Nero.

This was written purely for laughs and giggles, so don’t take it too seriously. By the way, this is the video I'm parodying with this short fic if you want to check it out, although I changed a few things to adapt it better for the purpose of this story. It’s in spanish though, but you can turn the subtitles on. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

..........

It was the night before Christmas. A chilly air ran through the ever so active city of Red Grave, which currently had its streets covered in a soft and pristine layer of snow reflecting all the colorful lights that decorated every corner of the city.

People gathered together in their homes to share a most anticipated reunion with their beloved families, mouth-watering food served on their dinning tables to celebrate the holidays, as well as the numerous wrapped presents hidden underneath the Christmas trees ready to be opened.

And of course, the Sparda household was no exception to these festivities.

Tiny hands wandered around a beautifully decorated tree, its fingers feeling around the decorations that sparked curiosity and wonder in the eyes of little Nero. Tucked between the trees branches, a porcelain star caught Nero’s attention, his little fingers reaching out at the trinket. His attempt was interrupted however, when a very loud snore broke the silence that had covered the living room.

Nero turned around searching for the origin of the sound, finding out that it was his uncle Dante who had fallen asleep on the couch nearby.

“Uncle Dante? Uncle Dante, don’t fall asleep yet!”

As small hands nudged the man’s shoulder, Dante slowly woke from his drunken slumber, having already downed a couple of wine bottles (and probably a whiskey one too), though due to his demonic heritage, he only felt a bit tipsy.

“Ummm, c’mon kid... let your uncle sleep for a little longeeer.”

“But uncle Dante, it’s only seven o’ clock. Dinner will be ready any minute now, and we haven’t even opened the presents!”

“Ughh... fine, you’re lucky you’re adorable as hell.”

Dante stretched and yawned while little Nero sat on the carpet, next to the toy train set his grandpa Sparda had set for him early.

“By the way uncle Dante, can you tell me the story of Christmas? Pleeeaaase? You always have the best stories!”

Dante sat silently until he finally relented thanks to the huge puppy eyes his nephew was giving him. “Alright then. But only because I’m the coolest uncle ever right?”

“Yes! The best one too!” Nero giggled enthusiastically, which always warmed his heart to no extent.

“Ok, fetch me that book over there.”

Nero handed the requested book to his uncle, which he proceeded to open and read out loud, starting with the story.

“Alright. Long, long time ago... in the ancient Egypt-”

Nero giggled once again “Silly uncle Dante! Papa says the story took place in Jerusalem.”

“Ok, ok then. So, Mary was doing housework, ironing some clothes because their housekeeper was fired-”

“Like they did to you uncle?”

Dante sighed “No- I wanted to stay at your grandparent’s house for a few days longer, that’s it!”

“You were kicked out of your office because you owed five months worth of rent, you irresponsible imbecile!” Vergil shouted from the studio where he was currently reading.

“Oh shut up Vergil! At least I know what a condom is!” Dante rudely shouted back at his twin before proceeding with the story. “Then, an angel arrived and his name was Gabe. Gabe told Mary not to be afraid because she will have a baby, who will be named Jesus and who will be the son of God. And Mary was cool with that.”

“Wait uncle Dante, how are children born?”

“Well that’s another fun story for another time, but in Mary’s case it was thanks to the Holy Spirit. Not so ‘holy’ tho, considering he messed with Joseph’s wife.” He snorted while a confused Nero tilted his head to the side. “Okay then, Joseph doubted Mary’s virginity, so he demanded a divorce.”

“What does virginity mean?”

“It’s like a hundred dollars bill. If you keep it, it serves no purpose, but if you use it, it’s gone forever. So make sure to spend it well and at the right time!”

“Ohhh I see.” Poor naive Nero, completely oblivious to what his uncle was talking really talking about. “Also, there were divorces at that time?”

“Yep, they were called ‘stonings’“

Little Nero nodded in complete awe at what he perceived, was his uncle’s great knowledge.

“But of course Mary demanded a divorce first, and exclaimed that she was keeping all the money, the car, as well as-”

“Stop mixing stories you buffoon! That happened to you with Lady!” Vergil’s angry voice once again interrupted the story.

“Stop bringing up my personal matters in front of the kid Verge!”

“Scum!”

“You son of a-!”

“Uncle Dante!” Nero’s innocent voice calmed Dante’s nerves, allowing him to take a deep breath and relax.

“Sorry ‘bout that, now where were we? Oh! Well it was the Holy Spirit, and Joseph wanted to take Mary to Las Vegas for their honeymoon... buuut they didn’t have any money, so they settled for Bethlehem instead.”

“There were honeymoons at the time?”

“Of course! You needed lots of money tho... but one day youuu Lady, wait ‘till I hit the jackpot and then you will see!”

“Get over your problems already!” Another exasperated interruption from his twin, Dante surely wasn’t getting any rest.

“Well then. The couple arrived at a cheap hotel room when suddenly, Mary went into labor. And that’s how sweet baby Jesus was born, our Lord and Savior I suppose.”

“Whoaaa...” Dante couldn’t help but feel proud that he managed to keep his nephew entertained with his fun, albeit inaccurate, stories. “Uncle Dante, was Jesus a good person?”

“Good? He was great actually! He could turn water into wine and stuff!”

“Can I drink wine too?”

“Of course! The bible says so after all.” Dante was about to hand his nephew the unfinished bottle of wine he had kept next to the couch when suddenly-

“IF YOU GIVE WINE TO MY SON I SWEAR ON OUR DEMONIC LINEAGE THAT I WILL MUTILATE YOU BEYOND RECOGNITION!”

“Damn it!” As soon as Vergil’s voice entered his ears, he quickly retracted his hand, taking the bottle of wine and putting it as far away as possible from innocent little Nero who jumped at the immense power and fury in his father’s tone.

“Let’s continue with our story. Thus Mary uploaded Jesus’ baby pics to Twitter and the Fairly OddParents star-faved the pics-”

“Nooo uncle Dante! That’s not how the story goes!” Nero laughed wholeheartedly “Papa told me once. The star was up in the sky and they weren’t the Fairly OddParents, they were the Three Wise Men.”

“Okay okay, three men, got it.”

“Three WISE men. And they were kings!”

“Whatever you say kid.”

“And one was black!”

“A bit racist if you ask me.” Dante rolled his eyes and bit back a laugh before continuing. “So, the star told the three wise kings to follow them for God’s sake, literally, and they arrived at the stable where Jesus had been born with gifts for him. One gifted him gold, the other gifted him myrrh-”

“Wait uncle Dante, what is myrrh?”

“Let’s say... it’s a kind of herb.”

“Like the one papa once found under your bed and stabbed you with his blue floating swords for?”

“It was for medicinal purposes I swear!” Dante nervously responded, flustered by his nephew’s sudden question. “Ahem... and the other dude gifted him incense.”

“Why incense, uncle Dante?”

“They were in a stable! You ever been to one? They smell like crap!”

“What about the massacre of children in Bethlehem? Papa also mentione that.”

“Of course! Hitler was a monster, worse than any demon I ever encountered!”

“Noooo silly uncle Dante! It was King Herod! Hitler was austrian and from a different era.”

“Whoa whoa whoa kid, who’s holding the damn book again?”

“The book is upside down uncle Dante. And that’s not even the Bible, that’s papa’s favorite book.”

Once he gave a closer inspection, Dante realized he had been holding the book upside down indeed. Moreover, once he closed it to look at the cover, he noticed that it had been Vergil’s beloved anthology of William Blake all this time.

Sighing and setting the book aside, Dante turned to his lovely nephew “Look little Nero. The important thing about Christmas is that we are all here gathered as a family. It’s not about the gifts or the turkey, it’s about love, like the one of the family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It doesn’t matter where we come from. Joseph raised Jesus with lots of love, and that’s why he became such a good dude and sooo famous.”

Nero smiled warmly at the words, and Dante couldn’t help but ruffle his cute nephew’s soft white locks of hair, making him giggle.

“That means...” Dante continued “that even if you are not a planned child, like you Nero, we still love you all the same.”

“Huh? Not planned?” Nero tilted his head in confusion. “Does that mean... I’m adopted?” Tears were beginning to form at the corner of his baby blue eyes. However, Dante couldn’t even explain the misunderstanding when a loud bang resonated through the entire house.

“DAAANTEEEEE!!!” Vergil had barged out of the studio and into the living room, furious to the point that he had Devil Triggered and with a halo of summoned swords around him.

Needless to say, poor Dante had to run for his life from his rampaging brother, a chase that was soon put to an end after Grandma Eva stepped out and reprimanded both siblings with a rolling pin and a look so stern and powerful that made them both cower in fear and respect. Meanwhile, Grandpa Sparda decided to stay and calm down little Nero, showing him his new train set until the boy was giggling blissfully once again.

Just another normal day at the Sparda household after all.

#devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc nero #dmc vergil #drunk uncle dante #christmas #fanfiction #crackfic #christmas story #lmao what am i even doing

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kinktae · 5 years ago

Note

The penultimate part🥺 I’m not ready to say goodbye, Bitchin!Jungkook has definitely been one of my fav characterizations of him that I’ve ever read. Thank you so much for sharing your work with all of us💖

bitchin 9 asks bc i suck

sapphireprinces5 said: bitchin’ pt9 was just so beautiful?? the way you explained the emotions and interactions between the characters was just amazing!! I felt myself hanging on every word wow excited for the end but will miss bitchin’ so much 🤧

Anonymous said: TAEHYUNG AND YARA SIGN ME UP GURL!!!!

Anonymous said: Like I just feel like if Jk really liked y/n he wouldn’t have slept with Kiri, you know? It shouldn’t matter that he didn’t know how y/n felt. And it’s obvious that he has feelings for y/n so I just hope that’s something y/n addresses when she talks to him. Don’t settle for less girl! Get you a man who will fight for you regardless 👏 (btw this is not me criticizing how you wrote it in any way! I’m just so invested in the characters and am thinking about how I would feel in this scenario :) )

Anonymous said: I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN WITH YARA AND TAE I FELT IT SO DEEP IN MY BONES IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM 😭😭😭

Anonymous said: Hi! I just binge read bitchin in a day and can I just say that I loved it! I really love the female characters as well, you’ve written them so beautifully 🥺 if I was y/n I wouldn’t be concerned so much about Jk not sleeping with Kiri if he knew the way y/n felt, but rather the fact that if Jk didn’t want to sleep with Kiri, he wouldn’t have, regardless of y/n’s feelings or not. IMO y/n’s feelings shouldn’t be the issue here, but Jk’s should! If I was y/n’s bff that’s what I would tell her LOL

Anonymous said: OH MY GOODNESS! YES !!!! YESSSSS Y.E.S Muchas graciaaaas!!!

Anonymous said: tae and yara are my new ship)

unknowntalesx said: okay but like tae and yara thooO they got me all smiley being like oh yeah bayyybeEE das what im talking about 😏 ALSO OKAY NOW THAT I AM MORE LUCID KIRI GOT FUCKING WRECKED I LOVED THAT SHE GOT A DOSE OF HER OWN MANIPULATIVE MEDICINE I AM 😤😤😤😤😤

Anonymous said: im not ready for bitchin to end )):

Anonymous said: I SCREAMED WHEN Y/N TOLD KIRI THE TRUTH. YES QUEEN. STAB AND TWIST THE KNIFE!

Anonymous said: ROSE AHHSHSJSKSD FUCK U I’m all hot and bothered with anticipation for pt 10 now 😩😩😩🥵

sydney--chan said: We really stan y/n for using her big ol brain to rock kiris world oh my god I yelled also I say what's your damage all the time bring that shit back

Anonymous said: a tae x yara spin off series or one shot...... haha jk..... unless..... 👀

Anonymous said: Fuck kiri's scheming ass. I'm glad YN ripped her a new one

Anonymous said: AAHHHHHH once again, I love this chapter so much!!!! I was screaming at Yara and Tae part. Seriously!!!! I am SURE she felt that spark when he kissed her. Is she going to be the one falling for the guy while he wants something casual now? Or maybe Tae will fall for her as well? Ahhhh so cute! I feel like that would be a nice spin off yk (no pressure, I swear). And Erik, woah I didn't expect him to be like that. To be so nice and wise. Great character development indeed! It was really nice (1/2)

Anonymous said: To see their interaction and the way he opened her eyes (for some reason I couldn't help but picture him as Namjoon). Ohhh the Kiri part tho!!!! I felt really petty but in the best way lol. Anywaysss I am really excited for the last chapter (really sad too) and I am sure it is going to be the best because you are a genius! Thank you for sharing another amazing chapter with us! ♥♥♥ (2/2)

Anonymous said: OKAY I absolutely adored Bitchin part 9 😻 I always thought that it was also OC fault for what happened between her and jk, he obviously was the main jerk but she never actually admitted her feelings to him and he doesn't read minds so??¿¿? Really loved that she came to understand it. And I was rooting SO MUCH for yara and tae MAN I AM CRYING THEY DESERVE IT 🙌🏻

Anonymous said: you came through with the tae x yara content we all needed omg thank you!! if anyone’s gonna make yara fall in love it’s tae lol

Anonymous said: I honestly lowkey hate bitchin’ jungkook right now. I thought I’d get over it but I just can’t imagine how hurt and disgusted Y/N was when she found out that jk and kiri were together just hours before they were like ugh. It doesn’t help that I’m also really interested in Erik’s character development now so it would’ve been really interesting to see how he’d fit in Y/N’s life. 🥺

Anonymous said: jungkook and y/n wANT what yara and tae have

Anonymous said: TAEYARA YES FINALLY OUR WISHES HAVE BEEN ANSWERED 😍😍

Anonymous said: just want to let you know you’re an absolute angel and all you create is nothing short of perfection. *sends you all of the love*

spring2787 said: I jus came from a 4 hour long class and it's finally here... Thank you so much dear 🎂 💜

Anonymous said: Is yara me ? Like when she said that boy act like they understand the no string involved but then fall in love , dude I felt that , that's literally the story of my life lmaoooo Like the number of time a dude told me yeah I'm okay with that and then acted shocked when I told him I didn't feel anything for him is impressive lmaoo Anyway I'm so eager for the last chapter!!!! you did an amazing job!!

kuhweenbri said: The way I already finished but anyways girl I absolutely loved this part and now I’m excited for the next part 😭😭 will we be seeing more of T-ara??

Anonymous said: OMG YARA AND TAEEEEEEEEE. NOW I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU MEANT BY FANSERVICE. JSJSJSJJSBXBSBSB But on a serious note, this fic just keeps on getting better. The fact that there's only one chapter left still hasn't come home to me 😭 but thank you so much for blessing us with this!💜💜

Anonymous said: YO! bitchin is flippin brilliant! you have done so well! jungkook broke my heart in part 9! im emotional but also so ready for part 10! please take your time. have a lovely day

Anonymous said: i don’t normally talk to writers on here but bitchin is really bitchin, i haven’t read a fanfic in so long that makes me excited to read the next part and maybe it’s because i’m so used to all of the aus being recycled but bitchin is truly a breathe of fresh air to me for some reason, maybe because you fleshed out the right hand mans for both characters idk or the it being a different time period, but i just wanted to say you are smashing bitchin dude and i love it!!

shy-kpop-girl said: BITCHIN': I just caught up on 8 & 9. Shocked & angry at JK. Because regardless of whether he knew y/n' feelings it was a dick move to sleep with Kiri one night and y/n the next morning. And it wasn't like he came over to talk/tell y/n about Kiri & things escalated because he went right at it as soon as she let him in. Even tho it was hot. 😳 But Erik. I wanted to hate him but dude surprised me with his reasoning. I loved that dialogue! Once again your writing is amazing & I love this story!

Anonymous said: Bitchin is the best fanfic on tumblr. And no one can change my mind. You’re doing amazing!! Much love xoxo

Anonymous said: “Think of life as one big puzzle and everyone you meet is shaped differently, right? Yet somehow… they fit. We find those that complete us. And they’re not necessarily opposites but—“ MAAM that part hit SOOO different omg your brain!?! Outta this world! Like this is whole ass literature!!!! I stg Bitchin’ is the best thing on this app and I meant that w my whole chest.

Anonymous said: I'm not ready for Bitchin to end. It's soooooo good 😍😍😍

kmultifandom said: Since there's a cast for bitchin I wanna audition for y/n because i wanna be a biologist and I have some similar personality traits *mic drop* Also great work, I seriously love it. No other fan fiction I have read was so close to my actual self and that impresses me even more and make it like it 10 times more djksksks

Anonymous said: how will I live when bitchin ends agghhh I haven’t even read 8-9 cause I’m waiting for the happy ending before I’m heartbroken and left waiting for the last part

Anonymous said: you know what would be super fun and crazy 😛😛🙈🙈 if you dropped bitchin’ pt 10 right now 😳😳 haha just kidding .... unless 😏😏

Anonymous said: lets gooooo!!!!!!!!!!! bitchin pt 10 better haunt me for the rest of the year

Anonymous said: I feel like I’m going to get so emotional once Bitchin’ part 10 is released. It’s like I’m sending off my non-existing kids to university because I won’t be able to see Bitchin!Jungkook anymore 🥺

Anonymous said: I can’t believe Bitchin’ is for real ending 😩 it’s soo gud

Anonymous said: Can’t wait till bitchin PART 10 Probably gonna fall asleep before u post but I’ll try to stay up for it 🥺

Anonymous said: i love your writing honestly and i just really want you to be happy. your writing is immaculate and i really want you to know that you are talented and skilled so yeah. sorry if this is out of nowhere but i just really want to show appreciation to writers because they don't get enough and you are definitely my favorite writer:)) hope you have a good day!!

Anonymous said: okay but if Bitchin' goes on for 50 chapters that would be good too.. just sayin'.

tpo-quinn said: Bruh, I can already feel that I'm gonna cry from the last chapter of bitchin'...I CAN'T WAIT!

leojjeon said: so i've re-read bitchin ready for chapter 10 an I am feeling all sorts of emotions. it's fair to say it's my favourite series I've read!

Anonymous said: y did i forget bitchin would have an end like 😳😐we’ve been on this bitchin journey w u for so long i’m sad it’s over

Anonymous said: What what what?? Bitchin is ending??!!! Didnt it just fucking start like all the drama and tae&yara!!!! Omg girl!!!

Anonymous said: ur the absolute fucking GODDESS of writing angst, ive never ever waited for a ff to be updated before as if it was a new episode of my fav show coming out. thank u for writing and be so active, muah ur amazing

Anonymous said: a moment of silence for our loved bitchin who will die soon 😔 gone but not forgotten, she will always be in our hearts. all the best rides come to an end 😭

#ask

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gwaciechang · 5 years ago

Text

A Very Pierre Prequel (4/5)

Edited on 4/7/2020 to fit the Joey Batey Fanmatic Universe, and I added a new section.

Written for the TAD server, slightly edited. TW for flogging. If you see any straight apostrophes or dialogue marks, grammar errors, or a better title, you can let me know. Otherwise keep your opinions to your own damn self.

“So it shall be. 20 lashes, or until the accused confesses,” the historic decree settles like a block of ice in your stomach. You twist the flogger nervously in your hand, as you approach the bound Templar. No matter how many times you do this, it never fails to surprise you exactly how coarse the fibers are.

His blue eyes, sharp pinpricks in the light, bore at you more deeply than any needle or knife. He knows why you volunteered to do this, and you’re not sure whether he will confess to your crimes to buy himself a little leniency. You raise the flogger, but he doesn’t break eye contact until it actually connects with the soft skin of his belly with a sharp crack!

A red mark is left in the flogger’s wake, but not bleeding, not yet. Nor does he make a sound besides the rustle of his clothing as he hunches over. He opens his eyes, which don’t seem damp, so you raise your arm again for another. You don’t quite manage to hit in the same spot, but it’s enough to draw a grunt from Pierre. The sound makes your pulse rush to your ears, and when you bring your arm down a third time, it’s more forceful and less accurate. A thin red line appears in the middle of a raised mark a full inch over the first two.

The handle is starting to warm your palm, but you know it’s nothing like the absolute fire that the knots draw across Pierre's stomach. He manages to muffle his shout into a hiss, but it’s enough to make an entirely different kind of burn in your own stomach. Pierre is still looking at you in between strikes. You’re going to have to rectify that.

The fifth strike provokes no sound, to your disappointment, but the sixth draws out an actual shout. Pierre bites his lip to muffle the next shout, and the next. You’ve scored another bloody line across his stomach, and you plan for your ninth strike to cross over all three of them.

It nearly does, and this time Pierre doesn’t manage to lift his head quite as quickly to look back up at you. You keep your smile to yourself, because you don’t want the fun to end just yet. You gear up for the tenth strike.

Crack!

There, all three lines, joined by a fourth. Something sparkles down Pierre’s cheek, and you wonder what it would taste like.

“Are you ready to confess?” you ask. It’s only fair. The skin on your palm is red, and you want to see more of it.

“No,” Pierre manages to lift his head. The sparkle’s gone, so you lift the flogger in an attempt to call it back. He keens, the sound hanging in the air almost visibly, like the drops of blood the flogger drew out of his stomach. But he’s still looking at you, so you lift the flogger yet again.

You grab the flogger and aim for one of the red, sluggishly-bleeding lines, it doesn’t matter which. You want to cut a groove deep enough to scar, to remind him of this day and the one who delivered it. He screams when you hit your mark, once, twice, three times. His shoulders shake with suppressed sobs, and his legs have started to slide out from underneath him. The sight of this makes you realize how close your own legs are to doing the same.

One more strike, and he hangs his hair over his eyes. So disappointing, you need to see them, see their sparkle, so you strike again. His entire body is shaking now, so you miss and hit a yet-unmarked patch of skin. He relaxes a little and draws in a full breath as he readjusts his stance. This won’t do. You make sure the next strike hits squarely over a red line, undoing all his work and drawing out a louder, higher scream. Much better.

He winces when each gulping breath moves his stomach in and out. You wince as well when you raise the flogger again, as the handle rubs against your reddened palm. He notices, of course he does, nothing gets past him. There’s something satisfied in his gaze, and this time he doesn't look away when you break another line, even as he groans in what must be considerable agony.

You want him to blink even more than you want to see those eyes fill with tears. You ignore the abrasion in your palm and the soreness in your shoulder as you swing the flogger down with renewed force. He lets out another scream, and continues whimpering when your arm drops. You roll your shoulders to soothe the ache while holding his gaze. His hands are tied behind him. He can’t move to adjust his position no matter how badly it hurts.

You wait until the whimpers and trembles die down before you strike again, leading to another stream of broken sounds. He’s nearly bent double, and something sparkles in the air before darkening a small spot on the ground. You wait, but even after he’s silent and still, he doesn’t rise. “Do you wish to confess?”

That does the trick. He stands up with several harsh breaths, and he’s glaring at you again. Not for long, the next strike has him bent over again. You take a step forward before you realize, and scramble back. He chuckles, winces when that jostles his stomach, and slowly raises himself back up. When the final strike hits, it’s you who can’t look him in the eye, preferring to see the final red line scored into his stomach.

He winces after you untie his stiff and cramping limbs. Your rub the blood back into them and he nuzzles into your cheek under the guise of letting his exhausted head drop against your shoulder. He sighs and barely manages to open his eyes. Okay, maybe not so much pretending.

“Was that good for you?” you croon. “Do you feel you’ve been punished enough?” He shakes his head, and the warmth in your stomach fizzles out.

“Pierre,” you lift his head up so you can look at him, and his eyes shift everywhere but you. You hold him in place, you’re not going anywhere. Finally, he looks up, and his eyes are wet with tears. “I don't deserve-”

“You deserve the world, darling. You were so good for me, you screamed so beautifully. You took every strike I laid on you, and I know you could’ve taken more, but look at my hand, darling.” You show him your palm. It’s red and glossy, like a burn. “I couldn’t.”

He scowls when he sees it and drags you over to the pot of salve. It hurts him to move so quickly, you hear his sharp intake of breath, but he doesn’t stop until your hand is liberally coated. “You need to wear gloves,” he begins to lecture, but you place your finger against his lips.

“Thank you for taking care of me, darling,” you say. “Now hush, and let me take care of you.”

You pile your fluffiest pillows up on the bed like a nest before helping him sit on the bed. You want to help him lie down as well, but this close, you can see the tiny aborted flinches he tries not to let show on his face when you touch him, so you let him lie down on his own. There’s a story there, but he’s already so vulnerable, demanding anything more is unforgivable. “I have some aloe, darling,” you move your arm in grand, sweeping motions so he knows exactly where your hands will be, even as tired as he is.

You apply the salve in light, careful motions like you know he needs, but Pierre still grunts impatiently above you. “Get on with it,” he refuses to look at you again. He hates what he considers coddling and reacts to softness like he had been scalded.

No, you’d scalded him once, and he had reacted much more calmly.

“I know you don’t need this,” you carefully avert your gaze, “but I do.” And it’s true. Your eyes are already filling with tears at the thought of how many times he must have lied alone, with no one to look after his hurts.

A hesitant hand pats your elbow like you’re made of glass before gesturing for you to go on. You glance up at him, and his gaze is inquisitive, not impatient. You beam at him until he returns the look.

You put as much salve as you think you can get away with. Too much and he’ll start to squirm, possibly doing more damage to himself. But you have your own rule: the games stop until the risk of infection is over. And as pigheaded as that boy is, he would sooner stab himself through the heart than disrespect you. The thought makes your pulse quicken in a thoroughly unpleasant way, and you squeeze his hand in yours to feel his pulse, kiss it to feel his warmth. He looks at you with confusion, but there must be something in your gaze that keeps him from pulling away. Instead, his eyes soften even further, and he brings his other hand up to curl against the back of your head. You let him pull you against his chest, then you settle, mindful of his injuries.

He kisses the top of your head and curls an arm around the back of your shoulders protectively. You do the same across his chest, drawing small circles with your thumb along his clavicle until you reach his neck. Then you press your warm palm, greasy with aloe, around his cheek so that he turns to see you with your lips pursed for a kiss.

He leans forward obligingly, and the kiss deepens as it's wont to do. He growls, and the fire in your stomach bursts back to life when you feel something poke you in the thigh.

He pulls you flush against him and your stomach strikes against his. His grunt is so different than his pleased rumbles and you freeze above him, and almost simultaneously, he stops as well. Then he’s moving again, this time biting his lip until it's a bloodless white.

“Stop,” you press your hand against his sweaty chest. You pet it like you’re soothing a hurt animal (because you are), until he carefully puts you down beside him. You’ll never get enough of how gently he handles you. “I can keep going,” he protests.

Your yawn is genuine, if exaggerated. “No dear,” you run your fingers through his hair.

His eyes flutter shut and his entire body goes lax except for his head, which arches into your palm. Your heart breaks even as it melts. This is the only way to make him relax enough to seek the touches he craves, instead of being afraid that every hand only brings pain. But for now, he’s leaning into your body with his, the blankets are warm and the flutter in your chest even warmer than that. You’re home, you’re safe, you sleep.

You wake up when the door opens, because holy shit, how did you forget Laurie lives here too?

Pierre stirs underneath you, frowning. He hisses when the cold air hits him as you hastily exit the bed.

“Do I have to leave?” he asks forlornly. God, you can’t look at that face again.

“No, no, I just have to talk to them, go back to sleep,” you motion for him to lie down again.

“I have no desire for you to get in trouble with the person you share quarters with,” Pierre is already putting his shoes back on. How did you not notice how weird those shoes are?

“I’m used to talking my way out of trouble,” you say with a failed attempt at a wink.

Laurie looks stressed, which is unusual, since you know her boss at the restaurant is a pretty nice guy who doesn't tolerate mistreatment of his employees.

“Are you okay?”

Laurie snorts. “Shelley took us out for drinks today, and a gunman chased us out.”

“Jesus,” you look them over, but they’re not bleeding anywhere, and you doubt they would only be disgruntled if they’d been injured. “Um, would it be a bad time to mention that I have somebody over?”

Laurie sighs. “Just let me take a shower first,” they say wearily.

“I made potatoes?” you blurt out. Damn, you’d really been hoping to save those potatoes for tomorrow, but that just means you have to come up with a new dish for Pierre.

“Really?” they perk up.

“If you let me use some of your lotions, I’ll warm it up while you're in the shower.”

“Yay! Thanks, Alex! You’re the best!” Laurie goes to the bathroom greatly cheered. So, that’s one crisis averted.

You let out a sigh of relief before putting the potatoes in the microwave and going back to your room. You find Pierre pacing like he wasn’t flogged within an inch of his life a few hours ago, and the flogger is already hidden in your closet with the other presents the dominatrix gave you.

“Okay, so first off, don’t let Laurie know that you were sent here to kill me, and second, don’t let them know you’re from the 14th century,” you say. “Otherwise, we can pass everything off as you being from, I don’t know, a backward village somewhere? Unless that's offensive?”

“Offensive? Are we going to war?”

“Fuck, never mind.” You wish Maisie were here to tell you how to word good. The shower stops, and you give Pierre a grin. “You’re going to love this,” you say, taking your most colorful bath bomb and dragging him to the shower.

The bathroom is still steamy, so your bath bomb dissolves faster than usual. Pierre audibly gasps as the smell of ice cream, not that you expect him to know what that is, fills the room.

You smile at his face as he swirls the colors around. “Well, get in,” you motion, already settling in.

He moans when he gets in the bath. Outside, you can hear both the television and the sounds of potato-y chewing getting louder.

“You’re so soft,” he marvels. He sniffs your hair, which makes you feel warm in a way that can’t be attributed to the water.

“You like my shampoo, huh?” you pull out the honey-scented bottle. “I’m going to get behind you now,” you shiver a little when you stand up.

He frowns until you sit back down at his back, but when you put your hands on either side of his head to tilt it back, he’s not tense at all. He shakes a little when you just run your fingers through his hair several times, and You wet his hair and carefully untangle the knots. He shakes a little, and you decide to pour a generous amount of the shampoo in your hand before he gets too pliant to hold himself up.

“Close your eyes,” you say hoarsely. Once he does, you work the foam down every strand, scratching his scalp a little more than necessary. He makes a series of half-gasp, half-sob noises, and you press a kiss to the small dark scar on his leg. He twists around and pulls you up to kiss you, and you keep your eyes closed to pretend it’s bath water that's causing the wetness on your face.

“God, you need a person,” you say, pressing your foreheads together. You put your favorite cookie dough scented body wash on your loofah and grin at the idea of introducing Pierre to cookie dough. “Okay, now stand up.”

He doesn’t shiver when he stands and gives you full access to that strong body of his, but he does giggle when you run your loofah down his side.

“You're ticklish!” you giggle. This is delightful.

“Don’t you dare,” Pierre glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the way he keeps closing his eyes as you run the loofah down his body. You try to not let this ruin your mood to, the proof that he hasn’t had anyone just touch him gently before in every expression of simple happiness.

So you jam your fingers into his sides and laugh as he falls with a shriek, splashing the water out of the tub. He glares at you, and before you know it, has tugged you into the water with him. He turns his body so you land on him and not the tub, a courtesy you kiss his chin for.

He hums pleasantly, and sitting between his legs like this, you feel his arousal spring to life.

“Well, hello,” you purr, wrapping your hand around it. It feels nice in your hand, and you briefly entertain the idea of it feeling nice inside you, but the idea of fucking in cooling bath water is less than appealing.

Pierre bites his lip and pants while you jerk him off. “Oh god,” he gasps.

“You’re so wonderfully responsive for me, darling,” you murmur.

“Is-is that a good thing?” he asks in fits and starts. “I’ve never, ngh, I’ve never done this before.”

Your hand stops for a second before resuming. You run your thumb over the head several times, each time earning a little squeak as he thrusts. He comes quickly, then sags against the side of the tub. Sweat covers every exposed inch of him, and he misses your mouth when he presses you closer for a kiss.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, half propped up against you and half propped up against the side of the tub. “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling, of course,” you turn away to avoid looking at his tears and focus on stroking your hand down every inch of him, waiting for him to regain his ability to sit and stand on his own power.

He gets up out of the water reluctantly, even though the water’s not that much warmer than the air now. His eyes close again at the feeling of the soft towel, and you know right then that you would do just about anything to make him look like that every day.

#pierre you dick #knightfall fanfic #whump there it is #into the joeyverse #joey i am literally begging you not to look through this tag

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kaniacqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Leverage International: The Diner Job Ch. 20 Pretzels

Eliot was finishing up his bowtie as he trotted down the stairs into the conference area where the girls had taken it over as the bridal suite. Sophie was adding the finishing touches to Parker's hair and makeup. She looked perfect. She had her hair pulled up in an elegant braided bun with tendrils of hair framing her face. Sophie had her makeup natural and glowing. She looked ethereal.

"Did you need an escort down the aisle?" a posh voice asked from the direction of the front door. Parker whipped around in surprise, recognizing the voice instantly.

"Archie!" The tears came immediately as she squeezed the silver-haired thief.

"You? A crying bride? Have I been called to steal you from this wedding?" There was a touch of concern in his smile.

"No," Parker declined with a laugh as she squeezed him again. "I just...I was trying to get a hold of you and everything happened so fast and here you are…"

He dabbed a finger on her nose. "You know I only show up at the precise time I mean to. And Sophie wanted it to be a surprise. You know I wouldn't miss this for the world. I do like the boy."

Parker turned to wordlessly thank Sophie as she swiped the tears from her eyes. "This is why I put waterproof makeup on you. For once, I wanted you caught off guard," Sophie said wryly. She checked the time. "Oh, we're cutting it close. Eliot you should already be upstairs. As should Savannah and I."

So Eliot made his way to the roof ushering Savannah and Sophie in front of him. Nate waited at the altar with Hardison. Nate had gotten reordained for the occasion. Nate wore solid black while Hardison contrasted with a classic black suit accented with an emerald green bow and pocket square. Eliot stayed classic black with a sage green shirt. He jogged to Hardison's side as Sophie and Savannah took their places on the other side of Nate.

The archway was simple, almost. It was two curved sides that met at a point made of dowels covered in clear and green crystals that caught the light beautifully from the slowly setting sun. Off to the side of the ceremony area was a table draped in sparkly fabric akin to the overlay on Parker's dress. Atop it was a a three foot tall chocolate covered pretzel traced in regular chocolate covered pretzels. Around it were a dozen bottles each of orange soda and Thief Juice II wine and beer (drinkable batches) . At one end of the table was a bone-in prime rib large enough for the seven of them (probably more) ready to be sliced, and at the other was a small mountain of squid ink pasta, both a top low flames to keep them warm, a courtesy of a late night from Eliot.

Archie and Parker appeared at the end of aisle constructed from metallic silver tiles. Hardison's smile got bigger and bigger with every step she took as did Parker's. They got to the altar and Parker and Archie kissed each other's cheeks. He said quietly to Hardison, "I'm obligated to tell you that my canes have been upgraded in case you hurt my daughter."

Hardison couldn't stop smiling. "I expect nothing less, Sir."

Archie had his own smirk as he took his place next to Eliot. Nate began. "As pretty much everyone here knows, I struggle with expressing my emotions in a way everyone agrees with." The opening was met with giggles. "These two people standing before me did a lot to help me overcome my demons and become a better man and a better husband. I'll be direct in saying that I couldn't be prouder and happier that they're here today ready to share the love they encouraged me to pursue with each other. They have written their own vows because the traditional dribble would never do for these two. Hardison?"

Hardison held up a finger and placed a small metal box with a shiny black dome on top of it a few feet down the aisle that he retrieved from the side of the altar. He pulled a remote from his pocket, clicked it, and replaced it. A projection of stars lit up the roof. In the projection, clips began playing; clips of Parker and Hardison; working, gloating, in the offices, out on the town. Some were images Hardison had collected of their dating life. Others, it seemed, were snippets of security footage he saved and scrubbed and edited them all together into this romantic black and white montage. As the images floated through the sky, sound bites were heard; sound bites collected from the coms, saved, and curated, to create this.

"I think people are like locks…you have to take time and be fiddly."

"I like how you turned out."

"Do you hear me, Alec? I need you!"

"You're not alone anymore...you have me."

"Kiss for luck?"

And there was a vaguely familiar humming. Parker smiled wide as tears fell freely. Sophie was quietly sobbing. Every eye was glassy at the least.

Hardison took Parker's hands. "Parker, it is a known fact that I have loved you since the day we met, and I promise I will never stop loving you. I promise I will put you before every video game, every new gadget release, and every job. I promise to hold your hand through every dark night and every awkward social interaction. I promise I will never hold you back, unless you're trying to stab somebody. And I promise I will never stop trying to make you smile." As he finished his vows and the giggles quieted, he reached up and thumbed a few tears away from her face, ignoring the ones that slipped down his own.

Before anyone could disintegrate any further, Parker cleared her throat, her voice surprisingly steady. "Alec, there aren't a lot of people that have been patient with how different I am, and I'm really glad you were one of those people. I promise you that you'll never be alone, and I'll never forget you're there. I promise I'll never climb higher than I'm willing to take you. I promise to never hide from you. I promise I'll love you more than anything, even money. And I promise you'll never be bored."

More laughter. They had to make it funny. "And with that leap of faith into the next phase of your relationship," Nate started with an air of anticipation. Parker and Hardison pulled closer. She reached underneath one of the slits in her dress and clipped something to a belt that blended in with his waistcoat. "And by the power vested in me by the state of Oregon," Nate continued as the anticipation built further. Parker gave a yank. Nate skipped gracefully to the side. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." Hardison and Parker, clutching each other and grinning ear to ear, went flying over the edge of the roof. Everyone turned to lean over and look. Somehow, Hardison was unshaken. "You may kiss the bride!" Nate called to them. It was a kiss years in the making. It warmed the heart. It filled the soul.

As lips parted, Hardison tried to sound calm as he asked, "Can we go back up now?" but his voice trembled just enough to give him away.

"Yeah," Parker answered, a little shake in her voice too. She reached up and gave another yank, and the newlyweds sprang upward. The wedding party helped them over the edge and worked the harnesses out of their clothes.

A song started that Eliot didn't care to listen to as Parker and Hardison shared their first dance. Nate took Sophie. Eliot took Savannah. Archie swung his cane to the rhythm. It was bliss. Every tragic turn in their lives lead to this moment, and it was worth it.

#Leverage #Leverage International #Leverage fan fiction #Leverage fan fic #Archie #Eliot Spencer #Alec Hardison #Parker #pretzels #Pardison #Sophie Devereaux #Nate Ford

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isaksforelsket · 5 years ago

Note

Since you’re rereading tosf, what are your favourites parts from that fic? 💗

The Oceans Shall Freeze

Must I choose? Can’t I say I adore the entire fic?

BUT here are a few parts that I genuinely love:

Even pulling his fur over Isak’s head and protecting him from all the sounds on the boat the night he was taken. (”Isak started to cry at the sound and he tried to muffle it with his hands but Even heard. Through his cloak, he covered Isak’s ears with his hands.“)

Even saving Isak from the bear trap and Isak being scared of Even taking the quilt from him and clenching it tightly and Even had to uncurl his fingers from it!!! The cutest, sweetest thing, this Isak was so so soft. (”When Even reached out to grab his hand, Isak jumped, thinking he meant to rip his small comfort away. Even only gently uncurled one shaking hand from the cloth before pulling it to his chest and wrapping it in gauze.”)

“Isak clung to him, ashamedly taking comfort from his captor once again. Dully, he noted that he had never heard Even plead for anything before. But he had pleaded for Isak not to cry.” - Stab me in the chest and rip my heart out, why don’t you? I don’t know why, but when a character pleads for their partner to please not cry, it makes my heart clench. It’s such a specific thing that I adore in fics but it’s one of my faves.

Even associating Sol with Isak while teaching him to read. My God sir, you are one romantic fuck and I love you. (”The second letter of your name. The sun melts the iciness of it,” Even told him. “That is why your hair is so golden.”)

The event at the tavern. It was very dark, but Even protecting Isak, and while all these crude words were spoken to him he was whispering about how he’ll protect him and kill anyone that even looks at him the wrong way. (“I would like to hear him whimpering...” “I would cut off his ears if he tried.”; “...Besides, a thrall like this simply needs bending over and fucking.“ “If anybody touches you I will chop their hands off.”)

The comfort after the tavern, particularly the hug. I just.... The sweetest, most precious thing ever. (”The words broke Isak; he moved forward, his arms circling around Even’s waist, his head pressed into his chest.“)

The entire scene after Isak escapes and the men leave him outside of Even’s hut. Literally all of it. Even cutting the ropes. Isak calling the place his home. Even comforting him and holding him close. Yes, yes, yes. (”“You are safe,” he told Isak again, though the boy did not stir. The only sound between them was Isak’s fractured breaths and the crackle of the fire beside them.”)

Even calling Isak Lille Sol for the first time, and every other time he did it. *chefs kiss* (““Come on, Lille Sol. ” Isak did not know why Even was calling him that, but he turned around at the moniker. “)

THE FIRST KISS!!! Holy fuck, that moment. Wow. Even gripping his chin??? Isak thinking that he doesn’t want him but then Even grips his thighs and picks him up?? Isak closing his lips cause he didn’t want to appear too eager??? Both of them being hard and grinding against each other?? Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Yes. (”He waited to see if Even would strike him; he shuddered with something like fear when he saw Even raise his hand, but he simply gripped at his jaw and tilted Isak’s head higher.”)

This sentence, that’s it: “Every inch of skin Isak allowed Even to touch was a privilege, no patch taken for granted. If Isak decided that he did not want Even’s hands on him anymore, Even would only say, “Thank you.” for all the times he had.”

And this sentence, wow: “If Isak chose to slit his throat, Even would probably hold still so he could get a clean cut.“

Honestly, the entire scene of this shaving thing. It was so hot, and so fucking good, and then the end made me real sad but let’s ignore that. (”He held Isak’s hips in both hands and grinded upwards. When the head of his cock caught on Isak’s hole he heard Isak cry out and he felt his hips stutter.”)

Isak thinking he’s not experienced enough for Even. I don’t know why. I just love it. (”“I believe he thinks I am beautiful but maybe it is not enough. Maybe he desires someone who… who understands how to please him.”“)

The hug after Even agreed to go to Jolablot. So precious. (”“It was for you,” Even admitted, his voice deep but soft in the quiet of the homestead. Isak’s heart in his chest threatened to overpower Even’s voice when he said, “It is always for you.””)

Honestly, the entire thing after Jolablot. Elias grabbing Isak and Even killing him, Even picking Isak up and carrying him home. Taking care of him and washing him. It was beautifully written and I adore it. I’m a whore for hurt/comfort, and this fic delivered. (”“Calm, Lille Sol. I am right here. You are safe,” Even soothed, wiping his wet cheeks, and then kissing them as he forced out apologies through tears. Although Isak was sure the rest of his body needed scrubbing more than his face, Even insistently wiped at Isak’s face, catching all the tears until Isak stilled again, limp.”)

Isak taking hot baths after what happened and Even trying to get him to stop, but particularly this moment, purely because it makes my heart clench: “If Isak had been in a right frame of mind he would have yelled back like he usually did but with his heart delicate from Even’s absence, he had not been able to stop himself from bursting into tears.“

The first sex scene. I’m a whore for smut, and this was beautiful. Sweet, hot, intimate, oh and did I mention hot? (”“I think I’ll keep you like this forever,” Even sad breathlessly, like it was a secret between the two of them, “You’ll stay in my bed and you’ll never wear clothes because you’ll always be full of me. I’ll keep you happy every day and fuck you every night, I swear to the Gods.””)

Isak being there for Even when he’s depressed. So sweet. (”“Well,” Isak floundered for a moment, “You are a great warrior and deserve to go to Valhalla but I am not. And I wish to be with you forever so Helgafjell will have to do.””)

Even comforting Isak after he tells him his mom killed herself. (“”Oh Min Sol,” Even said as he pulled Isak into his arms. “It was not your fault, none of it was your fault.””)

The whole scene where Jonas and Isak talk about God. We stan two idiot friends. (”“I’m not young ,” Isak spat out the word like a slur. “And that’s foolish. Is your God going to fuck you on his cock? Or allow you to fuck him? Will your God hold you at night? Only a person can do that.””)

Honestly.... Kind of the entire argument before Isak falls through the ice. I like things that make my heart hurt and make me cry, it was so good. And the comfort afterwards, Even saving him and taking care of him. (”Even’s body next to him felt more familiar than his own. He pushed back against it, wrapped the strong arms around his chest, murmured never let go. But he was not fully conscious, did not know if he was saying it or only thinking it.”)

Even saying this and making me cry: “But you are better than any God, because you are here. I can see you, and feel you. I can taste you. And that makes you more remarkable than brave Tyr or blind Höðr or any of the other faceless men that we are told as children to believe in.”

Even and Isak watching the Northern Lights!!! Yes!! It’s fun and sweet and I love their interactions together. And them having sex in the snow!! Wow, amazing. (”Isak felt a rush of blood to his cock and he grabbed Even’s furs, pulling him on top of him. “If you are scared of the lights, watch my face only as you thrust into me,” he told Even. Even’s face twisted in pleasure, and he leaned down to kiss him.”)

And can I just say, from the draft that they posted, Isak and Even having sex and Even making sure that Isak moans loudly so that Chris hears it and gets jealous. When Even sees Chris watching he starts talking about how he’s going to eat Isak out when they get home. Just.... Yes. Yes. I love it, I wish we got that, I wish we did. Amazing, showstopping, incredible.

And every other word that was written in this fic.

I genuinely don’t know how to show enough love and appreciation for this incredible fanfic. I wish I got the chance to tell the authors how much I love it while they were writing it, but I didn’t. So now all I can do is constantly talk about it until I become a stan account just for this fic. It was a gift, it really was. And so where the authors that wrote it, they were both so incredibly talented and I am grateful that we got to witness them create this work of art. I am so happy that I have had the privilege to read it and revel in the beauty of it.

#anon #i adore this fic with all my heart #i really really do #skam #skam fic

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