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59 / 3.4k / part 3 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap with human!reader <3
kinktober keywords: dubcon, monster mermen, monsterfucking, teratophilia, overt predator/prey dynamics, hypnosis/hypnokink, praise
...
"You gonna behave?"
You bite your lip and keep your arms tightly wound around your upper half. "I thought I was."
The movement catches Gaz's eyes. They darken. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
He reaches out, catching your bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. He pulls it gently lower and lets it snap back into place, and your lip stings with saltwater. "That."
You squirm in his hold.
Gaz keeps his grip, but lets you keep moving. His gaze drops again to your lips and keeps getting lower until it's obvious that he's staring at your neck. Even if he weren't a predator sensitive to the quick heartbeat and rushing blood of startled prey, he'd see the nerves all over you. He draws closer.
"You're so small," he murmurs.
You press back, but it does no good.
"And weak," Gaz continues. The clawtip of his index finger presses into the damp flesh of your stomach. "I could crack you open like the shell of a clam. Can I touch you?"
Before you can answer, Soap's hands wander up your legs again. You tense. Gaz's tail tightens under you in response.
"Bit late to ask if you can touch her," Soap says in their mer-tongue.
Gaz ignores him. "Stay still," he murmurs, his tail tightening. Not quite enough to crush anything, but enough to restrict more of your movement. "I won't hurt you."
As Soap makes a grab at one of your wrists, the coldness of your skin and the quickness of your pulse sends a small thrill down his spine.
You try to still your movements and steady your breath. It seems like the more you squirm and protest, the more it snags their interest. You're pretty sure by now they're not going to eat you, but their interest in you has taken an unmistakably carnal tilt.
"See?" Gaz says. "You can be good." He drags his claw lightly over your belly again, and you feel all the muscles of your midsection tense. If it weren't for him squeezing you so firmly, you'd almost be lifted out of the water.
"Good," he murmurs again.
"What do you want to see? I already showed you my legs."
"Everything else."
It's a blunt, straightforward answer. The way Gaz says it seems almost disinterested—matter-of-fact—but his gaze is fixed intently on your belly. He wants to see every inch of you, the softness and the curves and the hollow spots and the sharp dips.
Soap's hands find your waist, and he pulls you closer in in a way that forces you to arch your back, bough toward him, and spread your legs wider over Gaz's tail.
You steal a glance down at the glass-sharp rocky sand and the cold waves rising in. "Here?"
They don't bother to answer. Gaz shifts your hips up his tail, contorting you further. Soap stares openly down at your tits through your wet shirt as he drags his massive hands down your thighs and back up in an exploratory motion.
Gaz's scales push up against the crotch of your shorts. Your brain skips. This can't be happening right now and you can't be feeling kind of hot under the collar about it. No, nah, nope.
You plant your hands against Soap's shoulders and push him back. "I said not here! Take me somewhere nice." No, that's not quite right. "Somewhere private."
nsfw ⬇
Gaz digs his fingers into your hips and pushes you further up his tail. The movement grinds you into him like he's starting to feel you get warm and wet.
"Yeah?" Soap purrs, letting you push him away. There's no way you could throw him off unless he lets you, but he does. "Where d'you want us to take you, little human?"
"Somewhere soft and dry."
The two merman trade looks with one another. Gaz tilts his head down at you and narrows his dark eyes. "I know a place."
You swallow. "You do?"
"Mmhm." His tail shifts beneath you. "Have you ever seen a merman's bed?"
"No..."
Gaz’s tone drops to something just above a murmur. "It's carved out of sloping reef rock and lined with the softest, sun-warmed sand. Perfect to lie in."
Despite his attempt to soothe you, Soap's claws catching the hem of your torn shirt make you even more tense. You grab his hand and push it down. A muscle in your jaw jumps with irritation.
Soap stops pushing, but there's a look in his eye that you don't like at all. He knows he's bigger and stronger than you. All he has to do is pull back a little too hard, and he could easily yank you off Gaz's tail and into his own arms instead. He can make you do whatever he wants, and he knows it.
It makes you all the more aware of the strength of his body between your knees. He could pin you down so easily—he could crush you with the sheer size of him—and you'd never be able to do anything about it.
Before either of you makes a move, Gaz growls at Soap in their mer language. Soap's eyes snap up to Gaz's. His face tightens. His hands loosen and slide slowly out from under your shirt.
You watch it happen with an unsteady glare. But now they're watching each other rather than you. It only holds for a moment before Soap pulls his gaze away. He looks almost bored as he lets his hands drift back to your thighs.
"Fine," he murmurs. But the look in his eyes still leaves you with the uneasy feeling that he isn't entirely done with you.
Fine is the only word of it you understand, but you still feel the agitation in their tone and the subtle shifts of muscles in Gaz's back and shoulders against your chest. Still, he seems fine with Soap's hands on you as long as he's not agitating you further.
You look down at Gaz's claws. His grip on you stays tight. He isn't rough, exactly, but his hands are big and his touch is insistent and slightly possessive. His hands drift lazily over your hips, up your ribs, across the tops of your thighs. It feels like he's keeping track of every inch of you he's already felt.
You squeeze your legs together stubbornly when he gets close to your inner thighs.
His grip is like iron. You feel the muscles of his tail working beneath you as he shifts to get you just right again.
"Let me in," he murmurs.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"And why not?" His hands wander up and down the seam of your legs.
You get the impression that he can smell you getting wet when you when you're squished up close against him like this. Does he think you're putting out crazy pheromones or something? A twinge of shame makes you look away. "Because we're mismatched."
"Mismatched?" He snorts and pulls you forward so you're leaning further back and against his chest. It exposes your neck to him and his eyes darken. "Your kind has a real obsession with categorizing everything, don't you? We can be matched just fine."
"But we're not, like, physically... you know... it would be weird. It's like having sex with an animal."
"I don't think humans are animals," Gaz murmurs. He draws his claws over the outside of your thigh--not causing pain or leaving marks, but stimulating the nerves under your skin with small jolts. "Besides in the literal sense. But then we both are."
You say nothing. His fingertips brush up the backs of your knees, and a shiver of awareness travels all the way down your spine to your toes. His voice is low and soft as he speaks to Soap in their language again. He rubs his thumb in tiny circles on the back of your knee.
If you knew what he was saying, you'd realise that he's telling Soap that you're nervous.
"It would be weird," you say again.
Soap scoffs. "You keep saying that word. Weirrrd," he repeats in a voice edged with disdain and mimicking your accent. "Why does it matter? There's no one else here."
Gaz tilts his head down in an attempt to catch your eye. "You're not even a little bit curious? You humans are always so desperate to know why and how things work. You used to poke and prod us. You're usually curious about stuff like this." His voice drops lower. "About new experiences. What if I told you that this could feel good?"
"It's still wrong." Even as you say it, you're starting to wonder. You're already pretty sure they won't hurt you. They would have already if they didn't care, right? But you can't bear to think about how disgusted people would be if they knew you were seriously considering this.
"You think it's wrong?" Gaz’s voice takes on an edge. "Humans have a lot of strange rules that don't make any sense. Do you really think we're that different?"
"Yeah."
His gaze drops to your lips. "That's what you humans get so wrong. You think everything means something. Rubbish. Sometimes things can just feel good. And this" --he strokes the sensitive skin of your ankle-- "could feel so good. If you let me in, you'll be warm and safe. That’s what you want, yeah? To be looked after?"
"I don't... I don't know."
Gaz hums and rubs your ankle. Your skin is softer than the salt-smoothed calluses of his hands, and your leg is so small. He feels like he would barely have to squeeze to break it in two. "It's okay not to know, you know," he says. "You've been through a lot. Can I tell you more about us?" he asks, voice low and soft. "About our kind?"
His voice seems to soothe your ragged nerves. "I guess so."
"Good human." He leans very close, his mouth against the shell of your ear. His hands tighten on your thighs again. You’re at his fingertips. You’ll be his in no time. "We're not so different. We hunt and we play. We fight and we... enjoy things." He traces his claw along the line of your legs again. "We can feel things other creatures can't. Sounds too quiet for other prey, smells under water, under the salt. We like the smell of other creatures. What do humans like to smell?"
"Um... flowers, I guess. And food. Baked goods."
He huffs a laugh. "What a waste of your senses." He slides his claw along the outside of your calf. "You humans like things to be clean, huh? Nice warm water and soap. So many rules and little rituals with your cleaning."
"Yeah, so?"
"But then you spend half of your time dirtying each other again. Fighting and rutting and making messes. Humans are strange. Your rules get in the way of your senses."
"We need rules to protect ourselves."
"You need rules to limit yourself," Gaz says. "No wonder you act so fragile. If you'd let yourself enjoy things, everything wouldn't seem so dangerous."
Soap watches you steadily. He can smell the way you're reacting as Gaz's voice washes over you and the way you melt slightly every time he touches you.
You huff. "That's easy for you to say."
"Humans keep themselves vulnerable. No claws, no callouses," Gaz says as he runs his free hand over your upper arm. Your skin is so smooth, he can feel the tiny hairs standing up as his hand passes over them. You really are like a seal—all big eyes and soft give everywhere and no bite to you whatsoever. Except your words, maybe. " How do you defend yourself like this? How do you hunt?"
You don't reply.
His hand finds its way into your hair, claws tracing lines over your scalp. "Do you know what it is to hunt by yourself? Taking charge when something catches your interest. Taking things that you want."
"Not really."
"It's thrilling."
"To be stronger and faster?"
"More than that. Feeling another creature's pulse beneath your teeth, hearing the crunch of bone as it gives way. Knowing you've caught your prey." Gaz strokes the hair back from your ear. His voice and fingers send pleasurable tingles down your spine. He pulls you closer to himself as he speaks so you can fully feel his large frame cradled around yours. “We don't have many possessions," he says. "We like having something that's ours."
"Oh."
"And humans are small," he murmurs. "So soft and small." He rubs circles into your scalp, and you feel his voice as much as you hear it. "So warm and pliable. Easy to hold and keep."
You catch Soap grin and realize you've been staring at him.
"See somethin' you like, hen?"
You flush and look away.
Gaz shifts to comfort you. "Don't look away," he murmurs. His big hand comes up and catches your jaw to make you look up at Soap again. "Watch his eyes. Listen to my voice."
You blink at Soap. Your mind feels sluggish. But Soap is nice to look at. And Gaz is nice to listen to. His voice is low and soothing. His hands drift. The fingertips of one hand trace your collarbone and the other strokes the softness of your throat. Your eyelids are a little heavy.
Gaz watches you for a moment before leaning very close. "Good," he whispers, and Soap's eyes darken. "Easy to hold. Just like I said."
You feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest. His voice soothes you so completely that the old legends about sirens enticing humans with their hypnotic voices surfaces briefly in your mind. Then it disappears.
His hand continues, and the soft, slow touches lull you further. Your stress ebbs away grain by grain. It’s replaced by anticipation. He rubs the soft skin of your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you feel the calluses on his hands.
"That's a good human." He keeps using that low voice to praise you. Soft warmth and anticipation curl low in your belly. "Just keep looking." He slides a hand down your spine and across your lower back. Your muscles and your mind unwind slowly like a fraying rope. "You remember when I was telling you about a merman's bed, yeah?"
"Mm."
"That's good. Now pay attention. I want you to hear what I say. They're comfortable," he murmurs. "Warm and soft, all lined with sand that's been warmed in the sun. Perfect to lay in. To writhe in. To sink into." As if to show you, his hands slide under your wet shirt and press against the small of your back. He rubs the warm softness of your skin, and goosebumps rise where his hands pass over. "Imagine it. Imagine sinking in. Sinking in. Sink with my voice."
Your eyelids droop even more. You're sleepy.
"You're doing so well." Gaz feels how relaxed you are—the tension out of your muscles and how your limbs feel like they're melting into his. "Sink with my voice," he repeats. "You don't need to struggle anymore. Everything's alright. You're safe with us. Just let yourself… drift."
A sweet, heavy, warm softness like sinking into a hot bath. Like sinking into the sand under his hands. He guides you into a light doze and continues stroking your back and murmuring praise, your body growing heavy and lax beneath his warm hands.
"Shh," Gaz says. You're sinking deep. He guides you down into a soft, warm haze full of quiet, soothing sounds. Even Soap is watching you with a soft, rapt interest, not wanting to ruin the moment. They're taking care of you right where you belong. Deep. Safe. Warm. Comforting.
"What do you see in that bed with you?" Gaz murmurs. "One merman? Two?"
"Hmm?"
"Can't think straight, can you? You're so relaxed." He moves so his hands slide around your waist again. He knows you can't escape this time, even if you wanted to. And you look so sweet and soft. He knows you're almost asleep, almost floating away from him. "I know. Keep listening. Can you tell me what you see yet?"
"Blankets."
"That sounds so nice, doesn't it?" Gaz murmurs. His hands shift again, one drifting all the way to the back of your neck. His voice is as quiet and warm and comforting as a blanket over you. "Just sink into my voice. Keep listening. What else is in that bed with you?"
"Stuffed animals."
Gaz laughs, but it's low and soothing. "Like a child has? That's cute. But it's not like you need them."
You huff, your hypnotic trance vaguely disrupted by his words. "You asked me."
"And I got my answer." Gaz's hand slides up your neck to rest on your jaw. He strokes your pulse point again. "You're getting a little too close to falling asleep. You need to stay awake for this."
Soap has drifted closer, his dark eyes watching you. He looks hungry, but Gaz doesn't push you towards him yet. Not while you're so out of it. "Fine, fine." He rubs your neck again, and you feel your muscles melt under the pressure. "What kind of stuffed animal?"
"Hmm..."
Gaz hums back, his voice deep and soothing. Your eyes are already so heavy, your body is so relaxed in his arms. Your breath is slow and steady, and your skin feels warmer to his touch. Gaz can smell the change in your scent, your body's response to him—to all of this.
"I'm curious now." His voice is low and dark against your sensitive ear. "If you're going to have stuffed animals in your bed, I want to know what kind."
"Octopus."
"An octopus?" He murmurs. "So you want something with so many arms to wrap around you? Something tight and big?" He's so close to your ear now that his lips brush it. "You want to be wrapped up and covered and surrounded?"
"Mm... maybe. Yeah."
Your voice is heavy with drowsiness. He keeps you skirting that line between consciousness and sleep. Your body in his arms is puppet-like.
"You want to be surrounded by so many arms. Maybe even pressed against us with no space to move, yeah?" He slides a hand down your stomach.
"Mmhmm."
"Mm. So you want to sink into a nice bed, surrounded by an octopus with its big, plush arms. Surrounded on all sides with soft, soft tentacles that cover you. You want something big and soft and heavy on top of you--resting between your legs and keeping you warm and safe." His hands slide around you again. "Would that make you feel safe and protected?"
You murmur an affirmation.
"And do you feel safe and protected here? Now?"
You murmur another one.
Something like a smile curves Gaz's mouth. It's sweet that you're answering without thinking. "Mm," he hums, and he slides both hands down your thighs. His claws trace little circles on your sensitive skin. "Very good. Hold onto that feeling as you come up, human." Gaz lifts his eyes to Soap's. "We're just curious. We won't hurt you. We just want to see what you feel like. Is that alright?"
"What I feel like?"
Soap looks down at you. You barely open your eyes. Barely even react, even though you can feel his claws grazing your thigh, even though his eyes are dark and his lips parted slightly. Your eyes are so heavy, your brain so slow.
"Mm," Gaz murmurs again, and his chin brushes your ear. "Your skin's soft. Soft and warm. We want to feel you." His hands slide up your chest again, your breath shuddering at their passing, and he holds you up so your back is against his chest but your legs are still spread over his tail. He smiles. You're so close to sleep, but he doesn't want you to miss this. "Shh. You'll see. You just need to let us touch you, okay?"
"Oh." You let your legs slide to the sides of Gaz's tail and into Soap's waiting palms. "Okay."
...
part 1 / part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 / part 5
more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist
#next part should be tomorrow#mine#story#mermay#mermay 2024#monster lover#monster fucker#merman#kyle gaz garrick#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#fem reader#x reader#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#tf 141 x reader#teratophillia#terato#monster romance#monster x reader#soap x gaz x reader#cod#call of duty#cod mw2#cod mwii#tf 141#monster boyfriend#kinktober#kinktober 2024
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Wrote this last Wednesday for Patreon but:
Simon Riley who retires immediately after Johnny dies and joins the fire service.
It's good work. Physical work. Death wish work. Everyday he teeters on the tightrope between being alive and being in another grave. One slip, one fall, one miscalculation, and he's done.
He doesn't mind it.
The captain does though. The man reminds him too much of Price sometimes. Older, more grey, shooting Simon looks during debriefs when a reckless abandonment of protocol is mentioned.
The rest of the crew doesn't mind him much. Code of brothers, he supposes. Born from fire. They've all got different backgrounds, different stories. His is just another one in the pile.
He lives for his on days. Dreads the off ones. The time alone with his mind turns into a dark spiral, a maze impossible to make your way out of.
He prefers the fire.
The callout comes in the middle of the night. It's a residential building, a four alarm, multiple apparatus response, most people's worst nightmare.
But not his.
The chaos, the screaming, it all reminds him of what he was before, sending his instincts into overdrive. He thrives in it.
By the time it's all said and done, there are multiple casualties. Complete structure loss, people's homes gone, lives turned to ash. It's always the flip side of the adrenaline, being surrounded by the grief, but he packs up in silence, putting away axes and hoses and everything else-
until he spots you from the corner of his eye.
You're wrapped in a blanket with a thin nightie underneath, barefoot and covered and soot, dazed look in your eye as you stare at the skeleton of the building.
You're so out of it, you don't even notice his approach.
"Y'alright?" You blink.
"What?"
"Are you alright?" He cocks his head and then bends, trying to get in your line of sight.
"Oh." That's all you give him. Shell shocked. Lost.
"You got anywhere to go?" You shake your head. A plan comes together, quick. "Need somewhere to stay?" You look up at him, and he smiles, thumbing the smear of soot from your cheek. "Need a shower too, looks like." You're vulnerable. And scared. And alone. He wonders if someone loves you. If someone takes care of you, if they protect you.
Probably not, since they'd try to stop him from doing what he's about to do.
"I've gotta go back to the station, d'you want to ride with us?" This offer is strange, but not unheard of. He's seen others do the same in the past. No one bats an eye. He'll get you home afterwards, get you fed, get you showered, and take it from there. "Well?" He pushes after a gap of silence, and you finally nod.
"Okay."
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Can I request a racer!bakugo showing off his two most precious things after winning a big race, the trophy and his girl pleaseee?
THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE LOVE LOVE <33 also i can't find it but this is definitely inspired by that one bakugo fic where he's doing a vogue interview about the things he can't leave the house or live without (if anyone knows the link for it please please let me know because it's one of my all-time favorites)
"oh, look! it's bakugo! hey, man!"
"the hell are you doing outside my house?" the interviewer laughs nervously behind the camera, but your boyfriend's scowl doesn't move. it's a wonder that he's still viewed positively in the public eye despite his brash personality. you pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers and avert your eyes from the second-floor window, sending another prayer begging for him to behave. the interview took place in his own home, for crying out loud. shouldn't he be the most comfortable in his safest space?
the answer is, unfortunately, no.
"i'm uh, here for your '73 questions' interview with vogue. d'you mind if i step inside with you?" he grunts reluctantly in response, swinging the front door open unceremoniously. you pity the poor guy who had to follow your husband around and chuck questions at him like armed grenades; there was always a chance that he would blow up. "so, where were you coming from?"
"grocery store. you want a drink?" good. at least he remembers his manners. "we got water, juice...i ain't giving you alcohol. i don't even know who the hell you are." never mind.
you spend the next 12-something minutes following their one-sided conversation around the house, careful to stay out of sight and silently begging your boyfriend to at least act a little warmer. the only time he does open up, much to the delight of fans, is when he's talking about you.
"'the things most precious to me?' i don't fuckin' know," you can hear him say plainly. you'd resigned to your shared bedroom to finish up some work when you heard the telltale calls of babe, c'mere! babe. babe. babe! from downstairs. with a huff, you set down your pen and make your way into the living room, where you see him holding his latest first-place trophy. it shines under the afternoon sun coming through the backyard windows. the camera pans to you in surprise and you thank your earlier self for wearing something other than pajamas.
"babe, c'mere," he insists and you roll your eyes in exasperation. his arm slips around your waist and you're suddenly hyperaware of the camera that's going to post your image to millions of people. "alright, nerd, you asked me what i wanna show off? they're right here," he boasts proudly and your face starts to heat up. "got my badass lover, my big-ass trophy, and i don't need anything else," he says with unexpected tenderness. "you got that?"
"y-yeah, i got it," the interviewer stutters out. "uh, thank you-"
"the hell do you look so nervous for? i don't fuckin' bite," he says and the man stammers again. "i don't know why i bother doing all this shit," he murmurs in your ear.
"this is why outlets are so scared to interview you, kats," you whisper and he shrugs indifferently. "you scare reporters too easily."
"don't care. i just wanna relax and spend my day off with you. i'm too tired to be dealing with this shit," he grumbles and you laugh under your breath. "baby?"
"hmm?"
"can you do me a big favor?" you narrow your eyes suspiciously while the cameraman fumbles about with his equipment, packing up to leave.
"depends on the favor," you say carefully. "will i need to compromise my morals?" your boyfriend barks out a laugh, and the reporter startles.
"no, no. nothing like that," he reassures you and drops his volume so that only you can hear him. "baby, sweetheart, love of my life?"
"yes, katsuki?"
"please get this man the fuck out of our house."
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
#bakugo x you#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo x you#katsuki bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x you#bakugo katsuki x reader#mha x you#mha x reader#mha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader#ask iris!
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SMILE FOR THE CAMERA!
02. day2.mp4
cws: as usual, weird yuta <3 implied fighting, mild injury !? somewhat graphic description of death(?) ^_^ // masterlist is linked in the title!
wc: 1.4k!
good morning, afternoon or evening, pretty! i don't know when exactly you'll be watching this, of course, but i do hope you've taken my advice and waited for the next day to watch this! if you're even alive by now, that is! some people just end up dying, y'know, it's crazy.
good morning, yuta okkotsu. wait— why'd you just wish the weird murderer a good morning in your head? is he turning you weird too?
we— i don't have a lot to do today, so we'll go shopping! i mean, i do have to get more food, and running from the authorities doesn't really classify as fun in my brain anymore.
they want to kill me again, i think... see, i'm not against them, the higher-ups, but you gotta go with the flow, y'know? stay on top no matter what. one day, i'll be on top. mark my— actually don't, who knows what'll happen? maybe i'll end up dead! hmm, cherry or peach?
he looks back at the camera.
i'm talking gummies here; my best friend liked the peach ones, but i like the cherry flavour.
a pause; yuta pouts.
if i'm being honest, i really do miss them a lot. but they just don't understand, y'know? "do good, you'll get done good." that's just not a real thing anymore. to get what you want, you have to break the rules sometimes. i guess i broke too many, and now i've basically lost all the people i care about.
the camcorder is set down somewhere, and yuta takes a step back. he holds up three packets of something called happy cherries.
how long d'you think they'll last? eh, whatever— oh, oh shit, wait—
the screen goes black. you hear hurried footsteps, probably belonging to yuta.
that'll be $14.99, sir.
here, keep the change.
thanks.
he begins walking again; his steps speed up until he's running. vague yelling can be heard in the distance before it all just— stops.
yuta comes back into frame. he is in front of a background that suspiciously looks like the sky and nothing else, and his hair whips about messily because of the wind. he barks out a short laugh, one without any humour in it, before his mouth is set in a thin line.
they're not above sending my own friends to kill me now, it seems. rika, can you hold this?
the camcorder appears to be removed from his hands; he rolls his shoulders lazily with a yawn.
too bad none of them are anywhere near as strong as me.
then he perks up.
oh! by the way, i'm flying right now! check it out!
the camera pans around to show that he is indeed moving in midair.
rika's carrying me right now, but she's a cursed spirit, so you can't see her through the camera. but if you're still watching this, that means you can see curses in general. i'll introduce you guys someday!
the camera comes back to yuta's face. he mutters something under his breath.
if they don't kill me before that, of course. but, if i'm being honest, there's probably a higher chance of you dying from... ah... natural causes in the near future than me getting murdered by my old friends.
as if he has not just dropped that terrifying bombshell, yuta continues talking with a smile.
our next stop is the convenience store near my place! i'm really craving some instant noodles right now.
unfortunately, you'll have to go in the bag now.
yuta pouts. the screen goes black after some rustling, and he begins to hum to himself. then:
salmon cod roe.
the fuck?
yuta (you assume) makes a sharp noise in his throat.
inumaki?
mustard leaf.
what are you worried about? i'm fine.
bonito flakes.
that's not true.
yuta's voice is harsh; he seems upset.
i don't want to hurt you, toge. you'd better leave, now.
bonito flakes.
the sound of a— katana? being withdrawn breaks the tense silence.
toge.
a pause.
rika!
don't move!
the two voices ring out at the same time.
with a sudden jolt, your body goes rigid, then slack. you feel... powerless. weak. you can't move. you try to wiggle your fingers, your toes— nothing. somehow, this sudden loss of bodily autonomy is much more chilling than the self-proclaimed murderer who lives in your garage-sale camcorder. the only movement right now is the steady rise and fall of your chest as you breathe; even then, it's relaxed, when you know you would be hyperventilating right now if things were under your control.
huh?
sorry, that doesn't work on me anymore.
silence. it feels like yuta and the other person— toge? are having a silent conversation.
i warned you.
a loud crash, more running.
and then— the sky clears. metaphorically, at least. it's as if you're suddenly aware of everything again, suddenly able to move.
the recording is obviously paused; the screen immediately cuts to yuta. blood dribbles down weakly from a cut above his eyebrow, and there is a bag of frozen peas pressed halfheartedly to his cheek. he looks bored.
welcome home. i mean, my home. for now. as you can see—
he shrugs.
—there wasn't much of a fight. of course, i went easy on him. even if we're on opposite— no, even if we're not on the same side anymore, he still matters a lot to me. i don't want him to die.
but i bet you still have a lot of questions about a lot of stuff. like, why am i so sure about the person i'm talking to right now? what if you were just some old guy?
see, i can explain all of that. i'm not stupid, y'know.
the atmosphere shifts, tenses—
i wouldn't encourage you to think otherwise.
—and goes back to normal..
wait, i'm too low on sugar to do this right now.
he gets up and disappears from view, before returning with one of the previously purchased jumbo bags of cherry-flavoured, cherry-shaped gummies.
i already had the other two, but it wasn't enough, apparently. it's getting late, though. i think i'll tell you everything — or almost everything — tomorrow.
until then, don't die. it'd be so disappointing if you did. i mean, i'd still send flowers to your funeral, of course! but people are so much more entertaining alive than dead, don't you think? although...
when i really dislike someone, i think the best part is when they're writhing and crying and begging to die, when they're dying but they're also not quite there yet.
the smile on his face is bone-chilling, but also oddly attractive. whoa, dude, what the hell? why'd you just think that? what is wrong with you?
yuta pops another gummy into his mouth. his eyes close in appreciation; he looks like an eager, adorable puppy, albeit a concerningly sleep-deprived one, as he chews with a truer smile than before.
mm, i think that's enough for today! as usual, watch the next one tomorrow! goodbye!
he blows a kiss at the screen and your heart skips a beat. you shut your laptop down and get up.
"rika, do you think i made the right choice with her?" yuta asks. he is holding a magazine that was published last month. it is opened to the twenty-third page, which greets him with the title, GOING ON AN INTERNET DETOX HIKE WITH MY BEST FRIEND.
he is looking at one of the pictures in particular, the only one that does not present the scenery of wherever the author went. instead, it is a photograph of two people. the author, and her best friend — you. you smile up at him — only him, he likes to think — so prettily. he really, truly, sincerely hopes you make it out alive. he thinks the two of you would get along great.
rika shakes her head vehemently with a high-pitched cry, and yuta's smile disappears, replaced by a sudden unnerving lack of emotion. "come now, rika, don't be like that. it can't just be the two of us forever."
rika makes another noise of protest; yuta waves her away before closing the magazine.
"whatever, everything will work out, won't it?"
though phrased like a question, it is obviously a statement. as if the only option is for all this to end well. and that isn't really an understatement, is it? yuta will do everything in his power to make sure it does. and the best part is— he's powerful enough to actually do it.
taglist; @stillnotherapy @fishii28 @akaakeis @chososcamgirl @essjujutsu @xnqq @mikikkoo @brideads @schioedtei @starrissm @skullvgirl @satoryaa @aozui @kameyyy @dawnisatotalqueen @nothers @sonotpattismith @babysoo-meu
taglist is open :) i can't tag the bolded usernames!
UMMM YANDERE STALKER WHAT. I DONT LIKE THIS GUYS
im so down bad for him this isn't even normal
iya memorial service gc i will never forget u ("yandere yuta can redacted redacted" — someone in gc 2024)
next chapter will have much explaining also i was Thinking and the reader is so stupid like girl do NAWT [what she will do in the future]
i once had an entire bag of happy cherries while traveling and i felt so sick afterwards 10/10 experience would do jt again
fucking neighbours are setting off fireworks i hope they explode too (they sound like b*mbs actually)
© laughingfcx 2024 do not repost translate or plagiarise
#linawrites#yuta okkotsu x reader#yuta okkotsu#yuta okkotsu x y/n#yuta okkotsu x you#yuuta okkotsu x reader#jjk okkotsu#okkotsu yuta x you#jjk yuuta#okkotsu yuuta#yuuta x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x fem!reader#yuuta okkotsu#yuuta okkotsu x y/n
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PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW, Chuuya Nakahara
Chuuya Nakahara x fem!!clingy!!reader
Summary: Chuuya had been called for a long overseas mission and his girlfriend isn’t ready to let him go just yet.
tw!! MDNI, smut, swearing, sexual themes, fluff, dazai mentions, adult themes
Note: this takes place when Chuuya is 18 around the time Dazai is still with the mafia!! :)) it’s slightly rushed in the end I apologise!!
5am was the time that Chuuya was supposed to roll out of bed and start packing. Recently promoted to an executive role just a mere 8 months ago in the mafia, he had found that being in that position required him to go on a lot of overseas missions-- though he supposed being the strongest ability-wise had a hand in the matter too.
Such as today. Mori had ordered him to go overseas again for a mission of 'high importance'- this time for 2 weeks. Chuuya didn't usually mind long missions overseas but it had gotten much more difficult when he acquired himself a girlfriend. Correction; a very clingy girlfriend.
Though he loved that about her. He liked feeling wanted by her and it's not as if he isn't clingy with her too. When he wasn't working he was at home- usually clung to her when she cooked for him or when they were watching shitty movies in bed. They're just two lovesick teenagers so it wasn't like they felt suffocated by one another.
However, there are definitely times when her clinginess can be slightly distracting- like now. He had planned to get up out of bed at 5am and be well on his way to the airport for at least 7am, the problem? y/n woke up before he could get out of bed.
At first, she hadn't done anything major, she had simply clung tighter to him and grumbled sleepily when feeling his attempt to shift off of the mattress. He had sighed and said he'd stay with her for five more minutes. Those 5 minutes turned into an hour the second she had made the decision to press a kiss to his jawline.
He had sighed and threw his head back against the pillow because he knew what she doing. She was trying to tempt him to stay longer. And for around 2 minutes it didn't work before it inevitably did. At around 5:45 they were already half-naked under the sheets- her having moved to straddle his hips to bracket him against the mattress.
In fairness, Chuuya should have probably seen this coming. When he had told her about the overseas mission the night prior he had seen it all over her face. Disappointment. She had pouted and complained about not being able to see him for 2 weeks- possibly even longer if the mission required it. He had simply drawn her into his chest to embrace her- allowing her to cling to him as tightly as she usually would.
He had anticipated her to hug him tighter to her side. To cling to him so tightly that she'd leave red indents on his sides. But he hadn't anticipated her climbing onto him and kissing him so affectionately that it would physically pain him if he were to pull away from her.
Hadn't anticipated her tugging his and her pyjamas away in order to connect their bodies on a much deeper level. Practically swallowing him whole with her arms around him- soft needy gasps leaving her lips whenever he would roll his hips up lazily into her. Continuing to kiss him even after they had reached their peaks until he was forced to break the kiss, panting.
"I have-"His words get cut short as she presses another kiss to his lips. --"to go, doll."He murmured against her lips, grunting as she rolled her hips once more.
"need to- shit-" he pauses again to let out a moan when feeling her shift on his lap- her mouth pressed against his jaw. He caves once more and finds himself rolling them over so she is pressed into the mattress and he is between her legs- his mouth pressing to hers so unbelievably softly. --"pack.."He breathes into her mouth- rolling his own hips forward to draw a soft noise of affirmation from her.
"D'you have to?"She whispered gently against his lips. --"Can't Mori send someone else?"She murmured, her hands moving to his back- fingers scratching angry red lines against his skin when he would hit that spot inside her.
"H-Have to, doll."He answers, moving his lips to her collarbone as his hand reaches beneath the cover to find her thigh and hike it up to his hips in order to hit much deeper- his movements slow and delightfully intimate.
"They need me and my shitty partner to deal with something."He sighed against her lips whilst squeezing her thigh comfortingly- feeling her tense up beneath him signalling her impending second release of the morning. A whimper left her lips and she moved her hands from his back to cup his cheeks and draw their mouths together again- kissing him like he was already halfway out the door. Though it did feel like it to her.
With a soft moan of his name and hers- they came apart together, panting into each other as they rode out their highs together. Her hands moved again to his back- caressing his freckled skin affectionately.
Chuuya's chest heaves as he leans his mouth up to press his lips against her sweaty hairline- not moving from her just yet. --"Please don't go.."She mumbled weakly to him causing him to sigh in amusement. --"I'd bring ya with me if I could, dollface."He hummed softly, his hand lifting to press against her cheek causing her to immediately lean into his touch.
"I'll be back before you know it, yeah?" he says, offering her a lovesick smile- pressing another kiss to her lips, forehead and nose before finally peeling himself away from her.
A sad and dramatic sigh leaves her swollen lips as she lay on the matress, pouting. A couple of hours, a shared hot shower and some speedy packing later and Chuuya was standing at their door- shrugging on his coat as he bickered with his partner, Dazai over the phone about being late to the meetup.
y/n stood in one of his shirts and her underwear- taking a moment to bask in how close they were in height meaning his shirt fit her perfectly. She stayed close to him, her arms wrapped loosely around his side as he hissed at Dazai through the phone for a few seconds before eventually hanging up with a 'stupid fucking Mackerel' muttered under his breath.
"Shitty Dazai's always late but the one time I'm late he loses his shit."He muttered in annoyance as he shoved his phone into his pocket and drew her closer to his chest. She giggled gently at his annoyed tone.
She had met Chuuya's partner before (much to Chuuya's dismay) purely by accident and quickly discovered that she found the bandaged man rather humorous. She couldn't exactly lie- she enjoys it when Chuuya bickers with Dazai over the phone- seeing Chuuya get so worked up and annoyed at his partner never fails to amuse her.
He sighed as he hugged her close to him- the watermelon scent of her shampoo comforting him. Forcing a smile onto her face, she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. --"Don't be surprised if your shirts reek of me when you come back."She hums, carding her fingers through his hair affectionately.
A snicker is what she gets as a response followed by a shake of his head. --"You don't reek." he chuckles, his eyes crinkling as he laughs and moves one of his hands to pinch the shoulder of the shirt she wore. --"Steal as many as you like, pretty girl."He tells her.
She hums in acknowledgement as he leans forward to capture her lips in what was supposed to be a quick kiss but lasted slightly longer than he intended (mostly because of her). However, Chuuya knew he couldn't be any later than he already was otherwise he'd never hear the end of it from his annoying partner. Thus the second he felt her trying to tug him closer he was breaking the kiss to chuckle.
"I have to go."He repeats for what feels like the millionth time to her. She frowns but nods her head with a sigh. --"Okay...one last kiss?" She asks entirely too innocently for his liking. The amused smile never leaves his lips. --"Just one more."He mutters before connecting their lips once more- staying true to his word and disconnecting from her a mere 5 seconds later.
y/n's heart sinks as she watches him grab ahold of his shoulder bag. --"Call me when you land?"She asks as he pulls open their front door. He nods in response and turns once more to grab ahold of her face- pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.
"I promise."He told her gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb briefly before taking the step outside. --"I'll see you in two weeks, love."He bids her goodbye with a heartfelt smile on his face and another kiss against her forehead.
She frowns as she leans against the doorframe, watching his figure disappear down the hall towards the elevator- she debated following after him but decided against it when remembering she was only wearing her underwear below Chuuya's shirt.
With one last wave from the redhead, he stepped into the elevator and he was gone. A sigh leaves her lips and she steps back into their shared apartment, shutting the door and immediately slumping against it with a frown on her face as she began her anxious 2 week wait for his return.
#fanfic#fanfiction#imagines#lfl#x reader#bsd chuuya#chuuya nakahara imagines#chuuya nakahara#dazai osamu imagines#dazai osamu#osamu dazai#nakahara chuuya imagines#chūya nakahara imagines#bungo stray dogs#bungou gay dogs#bsd#bsd dazai#smut#mdni#writing#soukoku#chuuya x reader#port mafia#viralpost#fypage
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ooh a continuation of your texts with patrick. he gets to your house, and you open the door, already annoyed. he lets himself in, smug smirk on his face like he knows how the night’s gonna end. you turn away from him, practically ignore him while you make yourself do chores around the house. he talks about how good you are together, but you just roll your eyes and sass him back because (last you recall) you left things off very messy.
somehow, patrick manages to maneuver his way behind you, whispering in your ear about how you belong together and how nobody can make you feel the way he can. you try your best to wash the dishes in front of you, but patrick’s hand that’s down in your pajama shorts, in your underwear, flicking your clit, makes it hard to concentrate. he slips a couple of fingers in, grinding his palm in the same rhythm he’s rubbing his hard on on your ass.
he nips at your ear, spare hand roaming under your shirt to fondle your tits, pressing your gasping body towards his. with a couple of flick of his wrists, your shorts are pulled down and his cock is splitting open your pussy from behind. soon you’re rocking as a single unit against your kitchen sink, dishes forgotten.
fuck man him just coming up behind you and maybe it's better that you don't have to see him and face your own weaknesses - the second his hand is cupping your bare cunt you're gripping the sink and biting your lip. telling him he's a bastard in the same breath as you grind your ass back against him. you need it just as much - just as bad - already clenching around nothing in anticipation for the stretch but patricks sick in the head because he makes you wait for it - yanking his jeans down just enough to fit the length of his cock against the seam of your cunt - just let's himself rock back and forth there and when you whine you feel his chest move like he's laughing -
"what is it, baby? what do you want?" while he bullies the fat head of himself between your lips - nudging back and forth against that tiny opening that always, always, opens for him. "is it this? you want this?"
of fucking course you do. so bad your whole body is thrumming with it. pulse damn near in your clit it's throbbing so needily. "fuck you -" you snap instead, because you hate how weak he makes you for this. that he's so goddamn good at giving you what you need you throw out all your promises to yourself as soon as he's teasing himself at your entrance. "- fuck off if you're gonna play games - ah!"
you whine when his head pops in. the stretch sending tingles all the way down to your toes which you stretch up on - running away from and chasing the sensation of him inside you. patrick fists a hand in your hair, yanks your head back roughly so his lips are at your ear - "who's fucking playing, huh? nothing funny about how much this pussy needs my dick." and he feeds you another thick inch, groaning softly right into your ear. "fuck - you take me so well. there's no one like you - no one else with this fucking -" a crack fills the room as he spanks your ass - "- tight little hole."
you hate how much that makes you wet. how it makes you moan and fuck back on his cock, ass rippling against his pelvis because you do need it - you need him so desperately it makes you sick with longing. it feels wrong to sleep without him wrong to exist without him - all you can do is. is hope he needs you just as badly.
"did you mean it?" you pant - squeezing your walls around him. "when you said you missed my pussy, daddy? d'you mean it?"
his fingers dig into your waist. "fuck yes." he grunts. animalistic. yanks you back and forth on his dick, sawing it into you. the wet slap slap slap of your flesh meeting filling the apartment - "fuck yeah, baby. miss your wet princess cunt choking my dick just like this -"
you reach down, fit your hand between your legs to feel where hes splitting you open wide and wet - feel his cock everytime it slides out and then slides back in. god, you're so good together. bodies made for eachother. "no one takes this dick like me." you tell him, possessive. "you were made for my pussy - you'll never find better -"
you dont know if it's a promise or a curse, but you mean it all the same. and patrick groans like he knows it to be true. like he fucking believes it, too. he's watching where he fucks in and out of you - watching the way your lips splay around his cock - how you suck him back in every fucking time and wrap around him so fucking snug. mouth fucking dropped open in awe of it.
"no I wont." he agrees. slams back inside with a force that rocks your pelvis hard enough into the sink to hurt. "you've got me addicted to this shit between your legs, baby. and you keep it from me - why is that, huh? why do you fucking torture me?"
he doesn't pull out. grinds his hips into your ass in slow sensual swivels. his cock is so thick inside you - you can feel him against your walls - rubbing.
"shit." you gasp. "shit that feels so good, daddy. oh fuck - I'm gonna -"
he abruptly pulls out. leaves you clenching around nothing, your orgasm fading from where it'd been building and you look behind you with this kind of betrayed expression, a wounded puppy. hole spasming like it needs his dick back inside.
he's hard and flushed, cock standing straight and touching his stomach - wet with the sheen of your pussy and he fists one hand around his thick base. strokes from root to tip as you watch with hungry eyes.
"patrick." you whine. petulant. "get back inside me. I was so close."
"so you can throw me out after?" fuck why is he so hot when he's angry. and he is angry, you realize. eyes blazing on your bare cunt - the veins in his arms prominent as he pumps himself. "nah, I don't think so."
you had planned on doing that but - "please - I need to cum -"
"you will. on my cock - when I decide you deserve it. after I've heard you tell me how much you want me back."
you scoff. even as your pussy clenches at the raw determination in his gaze. how he looks on the other side of the net when he already knows he's going to win, but he'll still have a fun time demolishing his opponent. running them ragged.
it's a good look.
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Hobie brown x mute reader?
AHHHH WHAT THE FREAK THIS IS SO CUTE I CANT ANYMORE WHY IS IT SO PERFECT 😭😭😭 IM GONNA SOB
my new favorite Hobie Brown dynamic thank you for this image and thank you for requesting <3
I made this fem reader because that's easier for me to write btw!!
________________
Hobie Brown of Earth-138, was currently on the run.
Well...sort of on the run.
As he stumbled around a corner and raced down Main Street, with a small group of cops chasing him, he began to realize that spray-painting in broad daylight may not have been the best idea he'd ever had.
He ran through the door of a bakery, quickly greeting the cashier before jumping through their back door into a darker alleyway.
"GET BACK HERE YA PUNK!"
He just laughed as he kept running throwing spray cans behind him to throw the pigs off his trail. He was so focused on the people behind him that he didn't even realize that there might be someone in front of him.
BAM
He slammed into someone, sending both of them toppling to the ground. He groaned stumbling to get back up, looking down in horror when he realized he'd nearly killed a girl. He roughly pushed his elbows into the floor to push himself up, but when his eyes met yours his mind suddenly went blank.
You clutched the back of your head in pain, wincing silently as you looked up at him, wide-eyed in confusion.
"Oi!" Hobie was broken out of his trance by the voices of officers behind him and he immediately scrambled around the corner, grabbing your arm to pull you with him as he hid behind a dumpster.
He covered your mouth with his hand to make sure you stayed quiet as he peered from behind the trash can, eyes scanning over the officers who walked in the other direction, fuming.
He sighed, pulling his head back to catch his breath for a moment before looking at you, a slightly apologetic grin on his face. "Sorry 'bout that, dove. Didn't mean t'scare you. You alright?"
You nodded, pulling back slightly to stand up, brushing your clothes down. You looked back at him, cocking your head to the side slightly before you began moving your hands.
What was that about? Are you okay?
He stared at you blankly for a second, before his eyes widened, like a light bulb had lit up in his head. "Is that sign? You're deaf?" he asked, standing up, a curious smile on his face. Suddenly, he brought his hand up to his forehead, shaking his head. "Ah, you probably don't understand what I'm saying, d'you? Stupid." he muttered to himself.
He looked back at you in shock as a noise left your mouth. It was an odd noise, like a quiet wheeze, but when he saw the smile on your face, he realized...you were laughing. His eyebrows shot up. "So you can hear me?" he asked, chuckling in response.
You nodded, a smile on your face. "But you can't talk?" he asked, leaning in a little as if he was inspecting you.
You shook your head, smile dropping slightly. "Ah. I see. Uh...what's your name? Can you like write it out for me?"
You hesitated for a moment, before you began tracing the letters of your name into the air while he stared intently. "That's pretty. It suits you." He said endearingly, reaching his hand out towards you. "My name's Hobie. Hobie Brown." he took your hand in his and pressed his lips to the back, eyes boring into yours.
It's nice to meet you, Hobie Brown.
He laughed. "I don't speak sign, so I guess all I can do is hope you said something nice back." he teased.
You laughed again, brushing your hair back. His expression suddenly dropped when he noticed a light scratch on the side of your neck. "Shit...did I do that?" he asked, peering a little closer.
"Can I see?" He asked. A little confusedly, you nodded, pulling your hair back a little more as he put his hand on the small of your back, pulling you a little closer. "Must've happened when I rammed into you. Sorry, dove." He said sheepishly, his finger gently flicking across the cut. "Did I scratch anywhere else?"
You shrugged your shoulders, putting your hand on that part of your neck as well, trying to feel the scratch. You shook your head, putting your hands in front of you as if you were telling him, it's okay.
He hesitated before sighing, putting his hands on his hips. "Alright. How can I make it up to you then?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "How bout a coffee?" he waggled his eyebrows at you.
He watched in delight as you laughed a third time, your face scrunching up slightly as you looked away, shaking your head. He thought it was the cutest thing. "What? is that a yes?" he asked, leaning in towards you as you pulled your head back, a coy smile on his face.
You stared at him, still smiling widely before nodding. "Hah! I knew it. Ladies can't resist me." he grinned proudly, offering you his hand. "I know a great place nearby...join me?"
I don't like coffee. Can we get something else? You signed.
His eyebrows furrowed. "Uh...what?"
You shook your hands, trying to find a way to explain to him. You gestured towards yourself and made a drinking motion before shaking your head and making a grossed out expression.
He stared at you. "You...don't like coffee? Is that what you're saying?"
You nodded furiously, smiling in delight at his realization. "Yes! Another point for me." he laughed, pumping his fist out. "Alright...do you like tea?"
You nodded this time. I know a place.
"I'll take that as a yes?" he asked. "You have a place in mind?"
You nodded again, taking his hand, moving your head to the side as if gesturing for him to follow you. He smiled, putting his other hand in his pocket as he squeezed his fingers around yours. "Perfect. It's a date."
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#I hate my writing style in this but whatever#im trying to get out of my slump lol#might make a part 2 if people like it!!#atsv#across the spiderverse#hobie brown#spiderman atsv#atsv hobie#across the spider verse#[silvia's requests]#spiderman#hobie my love#astv hobie#hobie brown headcanons#hobie my beloved#hobie spiderverse#hobie x reader#spiderverse hobie#spiderpunk#hobart brown#mute reader#mute character#hobie x y/n#hobie x you#fem reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x female reader#atsv x reader
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"I'm high from smoking your jokes all damn night."
~ Taylor Swift (So High School) Pairing: jegulus fluff - Rating: G
"You're an idiot," Regulus mumbled fondly, looking at James.
The older boy was sprawled on the grass, grinning up at him with sparkling eyes so adoring that Regulus had to pause to control the way his stomach fluttered and his heart skipped a few beats. "Get down here," he whispered, eyes glued on Regulus, one hand extended to the other boy.
"Potter! It's- it's late, and it's dirty, and-" Regulus protested, but suddenly, James's hand grabbed his own and yanked, sending him falling on top of his chest with a small 'oof!'
"Now, look," James whispered into his ear, quite unabashed about they way he'd just pulled Regulus to the ground. "D'you see it?"
It was good it was dark, because a blush had formed on Regulus's face from the close proximity, and if he was being honest, he didn't give a single fuck what James was pointing at in the sky. He was much more focused on the way James's other hand had curled around his waist. "Wh-what-?"
But again, James maneuvered them, so now Regulus was next to him, but still curled into his side. "D'you see my favorite constellation?" he whispered pointing high up again. "It always makes me so happy to see it."
"You're such a sap, Potter," Regulus rolled his eyes, secretly pleased. "Just because my star is in Leo, doesn't mean-"
"Oh- oh, no, I meant Aries," James said seriously, turning to frown at Regulus. "It's my Zodiac sign."
Regulus froze, heart sinking. "Oh, I-"
But then James burst into laughter, pulling Regulus even closer, peppering his face with kisses. "Of course I meant Leo, love. No star is as beautiful as yours."
And after a moment, Regulus fell into laughter, too, actually allowing himself a rare moment of vulnerable happiness with the boy who made him feel more loved and safe than anyone else.
#marauders#marauders era#harry potter#fanfic#marauders fandom#harry potter marauders#the marauders#the maruaders#the marauders fandom#the marauders era#james#james fleamont potter#james potter#james x regulus#james and regulus#james potter/regulus black#james potter x regulus black#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#james loves regulus#regulus deserved better#jegulus#jegulus microfic#jegulus fanfiction#starchaser#sunseeker#ttpdmicrofic
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Happy Anniversary?
Marlene's the first one to bring it up.
Remus is just sitting, trying to do his transfiguration homework in the common room when she pipes up.
"Hey, Remus, isn't your anniversary soon?" That's enough to draw his attention, head snapping up with a confused frown. "Any plans?"
"...anniversary?" He asks. Marlene looks at him like he's just spoken another language, or that he's magically turned into a brick wall.
"Yeah. Are you doing anything for it?"
"I have no clue what you're on about," he says simply, expecting that to be the end of that. However, a knowing smile finds its way onto Marlene's face, and she nods.
"Ah, right. I get it," she says with a wink, only befuddling Remus more.
Still, he doesn't think anyone else is going to bring it up.
As it turns out, everyone seems to think he has some big anniversary coming up. Lily congratulates him, Mary says she "always knew it was going to last forever", even Edgar Bones nudges him and whispers a quick "well done".
Somehow, and Remus has no clue how, he did something noteworthy a year ago. He's also completely unaware as to what. Nobody answers him when he asks, so he simply starts offering a polite smile and moving on with his day. There's some strange misunderstanding happening, and it'll probably blow over soon.
Probably.
It takes reaching the 'anniversary' date to figure out what the fuck is going on.
He's finally gotten some time with Sirius after he's been stuck in back-to-back detentions, walking down to the Black Lake together and just... chatting. It's really nice being able to spend time with Sirius outside of his classes again, even if it sends his stomach spinning and diving. As they talk, they pass Dorcas, who turns and calls to the two of them.
"Happy anniversary, guys!"
She's gone before they can ask any questions, leaving Remus with the same confused feeling as before. He opens his mouth to explain the situation to Sirius, only for Sirius to beat him to it.
"That's been happening all week," he says, puzzled, which stops Remus in his tracks.
"It has?"
He isn't walking anymore, and Sirius stops with him, elaborating with a frown.
"Yeah. Everyone's been going on and on about some anniversary. I don't know what-"
"They've been doing it to me too," Remus interjects quickly, almost under his breath. Sirius catches it though, eyes widening as he reaches the same conclusion as Remus has at the same bloody time.
It's them.
It's all about them.
All of the knowing glances, the congratulations, even the weird fucking winks. They all think Remus and Sirius are dating. Not only that, but they've thought that for a year? The thought sends too many emotions running through him. Shock, confusion and, oddly enough, bitterness. He's fallen asleep every night for months with Sirius on his mind. The thought of kissing him, being with him, belonging to him. He's spent too long biting back his confessions, the very obvious and frustrating fact that he's in love with Sirius Black, because he doesn't want to destroy their friendship, and his friends have just swooped in and made things so much more difficult!
"It's our fucking anniversary, isn't it?" Sirius says quietly, before glancing behind him. "Hold on," he says to Remus, turning right back around and going in the same direction Dorcas has just gone. He seems to involuntarily grab Remus' hand, Remus having no choice but to follow him helplessly.
They get to the Great Hall in time for lunch. Remus is a little pissed that everyone's weird obsession with their imaginary anniversary is interrupting the picnic they had planned.
"Guys." The two of them stop on front of the group, Sirius doing the talking, thank fuck. To be perfectly honest, Remus feels pretty speechless. "D'you lot think Remus and I are dating?"
"Yeah?" James says simply, wrinkling his nose like it's just a fact of life. "Everyone knows you're together."
"...we're not," Sirius says slowly, carefully, sending the group lapsing into silence, exchanging confused glances.
"Okay, that's doesn't make any sense," Lily says, everybody else nodding in agreement. "You're literally together all the time."
"Because we're friends," Sirius explains, and Remus really isn't sure what to say. Good thing he doesn't have to, because the back and forth doesn't stop.
"If Remus is in the hospital wing, you're there until Madame Pomfrey kicks you out," James offers.
"I care about him!" Sirius argues, but something about what James has said has hit him in a strange way, Remus hears the shift in his tone, feels the slight tightening of his grip on Remus' hand.
"You're holding hands right now," Mary says pointedly, and Sirius looks down at their connected hands like he had forgotten it had happened. Still, he has a reason for that one too.
"I hold everyone's hand."
He really doesn't want people to think he's dating Remus, does he?
"Not that much," Peter mumbles under his breath, and Remus almost wants to laugh.
"Sorry, does nobody find it strange that we've never kissed, then?" James shrugs.
"Not really. Figured you didn't like PDA."
"Okay, then... we've never called each other boyfriends, never been on a date-"
"Right, that one's just not true," Marlene says with a snort. Remus frowns, confused. Have they been on a date? Surely he'd know, right? "You go to Hogsmeade together all the time, you run off to 'study' every chance you get, and you're picnicking today."
"We're friends? Friends spend time together," Sirius says quickly, and Remus is really starting to struggle. He doesn't want to stand there while Sirius explains how ridiculous the concept of them dating is.
Instead of putting a stop to the conversation, Remus takes the coward's way out. He pulls his hand free from Sirius', turns, and walks away.
"Moony, wait-"
Remus pointedly ignores Sirius' call to him, aiming to get to the dorm and just wallow in self-pity for fifteen minutes. That way, he can act like he's fine and just go to the bloody picnic.
His hip, however, has other plans.
It twinges right as he reaches the stairs, forcing him to a halt with a sharp inhale. His hand involuntarily goes to the bannister at the bottom of the stairs, trying to get some of the weight off it. Unfortunately for him, it means Sirius catches up too quickly. To be honest, he hadn't even realised that Sirius was following him, but he arrives at his side in a matter of seconds.
"Moony, are you alright?" Remus lets his eyes sink shut for half a second, frustrated. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise they were upsetting you that much."
"It's not- it's just- it's nothing, I'm fine," Remus settles on, offering Sirius a tired smile.
"Moons, s'fine. I know how stupid you think it is." Sirius takes another step forward, acting as though he hasn't just confused the fuck out of Remus.
"What d'you mean? That's not why..." he trails off, not sure how to verbalise any of his thoughts without telling Sirius everything. Sirius fills it in for him, though.
"It's okay, really. You don't have to spare my feelings, or anything. I know you don't feel the same way," Sirius says with a shrug, sending Remus' mind reeling in a matter of seconds.
The same way.
The same fucking way?
Just like that, Remus is malfunctioning. Firstly, when the Hell did Sirius start liking him back? He's spent months having to reel in his own emotions, spending time with Sirius and accepting the sad reality that he's never going to be with him in a romantic way. Finally, just finally, he's started to come to terms with his own unrequited emotions, accept and embrace his friendship with Sirius, and they're not even bloody unrequited?
Also, when did they talk about it? How has Sirius come to the conclusion that Remus doesn't like him? Christ, Remus is fucking in love with him!
That's enough to spur Remus to talk.
"What?"
Okay, maybe he can't form full sentences right now, but he'll get there. Hopefully. Sirius just scrunches his nose up, confused.
"Moony, I get it, it's honestly okay. You don't like me, and didn't want to hear them all jumping to conclusions," He explains, and it only throws Remus more.
"No, that's not it," Remus says quickly, stunned that any words are coming out, even if they're pretty unhelpful words.
All he can do is look at Sirius. Beautiful, amazing, kind Sirius, who crushed his own feelings because he thought they were upsetting Remus. Merlin, he can't take it anymore. Clearly words aren't working for him right now, he has to try something else. Something that will express every single emotion that he has bottled up since he first went tripping and falling head over heels for his best friend.
His solution? Kiss the prat before he has a chance to second guess himself.
With that, he reaches out, grabs Sirius' jacket with one hand, pulls him in, and kisses him. At first, Sirius freezes, stunned, and Remus has an awful panic that he's gotten everything all wrong. Luckily for him, Sirius finally registers that Remus is kissing him and kisses him back.
It's...
Christ, it's everything Remus has ever imagined and more. It's like time stops as Remus' stomach swirls. Sirius' lips are soft against his, and his kiss is explorative, fucking mind blowing. He wraps his arms around Sirius' waist, feeling Sirius lean into the touch as he reaches out and cups Remus' cheek.
After what could be an hour, a few minutes, even a few seconds, just definitely not enough time, they both break away. Unfortunately, breathing exists, and Remus kind of needs to remember how to do that. Almost in unison, their foreheads press together, and Remus can feel a smile making its way onto his face.
"Well," Sirius starts, amused, "I guess this is our anniversary, then."
#i'm super happy with how this turned out#i have a whole separate thing explaining why they all thought it was wolfstars anniversary#it is though xoxo#ugh i love them#idiots#my idiots#wolfstar#sirius black#wolfstar oneshot#marauders#remus lupin#remus x sirius#young marauders#moony x padfoot#atyd marauders#marauders oneshot
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Bakugou constantly loses his phone. Not that he leaves it in public spaces and gets it stolen. Just one second he's putting it down somewhere and the next he has no idea where it is
A/N: I made this cause I always lose my phone and I def think he does too
He doesn't seem like the type of person that's always on his phone so he probably doesn't really keep track of where it is. He'd rather watch whatever you're watching on your phone than go out of his way to look for something to watch on his own.
He'll even complain that what you're watching is boring and you should watch something else.
-
Like maybe you two wanted to bake something together on his off day. You tell him to google something on his phone because yours is charging. And he just starts feeling his pockets cause he's sure it's there but he feels nothing. Even starts looking around and when he doesn't see it, he looks at you.
"Where's my phone?"
"I don't know?"
"What do you mean ya don't know? You're supposed to know these things, baby."
And he ALWAYS gets so offended when you don't know where HIS phone is.
"I'm supposed to know where YOUR phone is?"
"Yes, you're always fuckin' calling it so, ya should know where it is."
"That doesn't even correlate at all."
"Actually call it for me now.. please."
You send a short glare at him before turning around to call it. Only to see his phone sitting right next to the rice cooker where he supposedly "looked".
"is this not it?"
"Where'd you find it?"
"It was sitting here this entire time."
"No it wasn't, I looked there."
-
OR maybe he was expecting an important call and he wanted his phone next to him. So when you're sitting on the couch together and he suddenly starts looking around you're very confused.
"Baby, you seen my phone?"
"No, why?"
"No?"
He looks at you offended again as if he's paying you to keep track of that stuff.
"M' getting an important call soon I need my phone."
And he doesn't even let you finish talking before he gets up and starts retracing his steps.
-
Other times he'll lose his phone while it's in his hand. And he starts stressing thinking he's actually lost it this time. So when he comes to you asking for your help and you start laughing he's even more offended.
"What's funny, need help finding my phone now's not the time."
"Really?"
"Mm."
"D'you look in the kitchen?"
"Mm"
"The bedroom?"
"Mhm."
"The bathroom?"
"Looked everywhere."
"Even your hand?"
"Hah?"
"Your hand?"
You almost feel bad when his face drops into one of pure exhaust when he sees his phone in his hand.
"Why didn't you just tell me?" He groans flopping down onto you sitting on the couch. "I just saw it now." You explain scratching the nape of his neck.
"Ya really need to start keeping track of my phone."
"Are you gonna pay me?"
"Do I need to pay you for that?"
#bakugou headcanons#bnha fluff#bakugou fluff#mha fluff#katsuki x reader#my hero academia#bakugo katsuki#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#boku no hero academia#boku no hero x reader#katsuki bakugo#bakugou drabble
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Rules R Rules
(description: naoya, your husband and also clan leader found out that you were teasing some of his army personnel. you weren't exactly all that innocent, being his wife meaning you weren't able to leave the clan quarters much. you had your eyes on toji fushiguro, his sergeant. you took this chance to live your dreams, to have sex with mr. fushigruo.)
part 2 here
“n-naoya darling, please, we can talk about this. don’t jump to conclusions when you haven’t heard my side of the story, please!” you begged while you were practically on the floor, inching yourself away from naoya, your husband.
naoya rolled his eyes, whip in hand. the whip was slender, black and thin.
“oh really?” he growled, with a lower tone of voice. “you really expect me to believe i wouldn’t do anything when my when my wife of the head of the zenin clan, flirts with my generals and soldiers?!”
“i didn’t do anything, promise! i was just worried that they needed some sort of entertainment, i know it’s dreadful to work as a soldier…promise, it’s an innocent mistake that i meant no harm,” you defended yourself, despite knowing it would never work on naoya.
a brilliant an interesting idea popped in your head. “naoya, my master...i’ll make it up to you. right now, even. j-just call in your sergeant. trust me dear,”
“if im not pleased by whatever you’re going to do, im sure you know what’s happening,” naoya snapped, glided the whip on your ass and pressed on his intercom, calling in said sergeant.
after a few seconds, heavy boots were walking in his office.
“good afternoon sir! how may i be of assistance for you?” it was sergeant fushiguro. the sergeant fushigruo.
your heart skipped a beat when you eyed him.
handsome, muscular, broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, muscles ripping through his army top. a scar beside his lips which made you bite your lips thinking of all the dirty things you could do to him, or that he could do to you.
“trust me darling, i’ll make this worthwhile for you..” you said to naoya as you sashayed towards sergeant fushiguro.
raising an eyebrow, naoya clicked his tongue, already knowing what kind of performance you wanted to do. a teasing one, one that will make him jealous. on purpose? you’re not that gullible to make such a mistake.
“i know what you’re trying to do, peasant. you’ve been eying my sarge for quite some time. d’you think i won’t notice those quick and naughty glances you give him?” naoya revealed to you.
“i’ll join in with the parade, im sure you can take two cocks at once am i right? such a good slut for me, aren’t ya slut?” naoya walks towards the both of you and grabs your hair tightly, causing you to moan.
“you’re lucky i like sergeant fushiguro here, or else i would’ve have both your heads tomorrow,” he continues proceeding to sit comfortably on a chair, prepared for whatever performance you were going to give.
horny as hell, you nodded your head.
“let’s just ease mr. toji here into it, okay daddy?” you said while tugging on the sergeants belt, removing it swiftly with your hands.
“w-what’s going on?” toji was alarmed at your pair of hands reaching for his army pants. you gave him a sly wink, ensuring to him that everything was fine and that he will not be fired tomorrow.
“what can i say sarge? she’s a horny little minx,” naoya said as he takes you up and starts massaging your breasts through your shirt. you did not expect naoya to react this way, a way where it would make things easier for you.
playing with your nipples, he licked and suckled on your earlobe. “let’s see who you take in better, huh? me, leader of the zenin clan or toji, sergeant of my army,” he whispered into your ear.
naoya grips on your thighs tightly, spreading them wide open. your wet slick already drippin' down your legs. it was that easy to turn you on, especially with two guys ready to take you.
"d'you better behave, little slut," he slaps your already aching cunt, sending waves to your thighs. "there's someone new here, be on your very best okay? don't ruin daddy's reputation," he said with gritted teeth.
"sergeant toji..don't be shy. have a taste of her, she's not going to bite," he mischievously said. he allows toji's fingers to play with your nipples that have hardened. twisting, turning and lapping on them. you whimper as you give your body to be used, touched by two men.
naoya brings you closer to sarge's leaking cock while he finds his way to your plump breasts. "put on a good show for sarge here. if you please me well then i might let him fuck you," your husband reminded you.
he knows how much power he has over you and is clearly swimming and drowning himself in it. without a thought, your hands wrapped around his surprisingly thick and long cock.
naoya winched , not really understanding the feeling of seeing his wife holding on to another man's dick but he let that slide. as you started to take toji in, he grabbed the back of your hair pushing you deeper. naoya was impressed, impressed at how much more could take in with that small mouth of yours. what could you say? you were trained by the best (naoya).
you knew that you were blessed, having a husband that would definitely be able to hit the spot that made you see stars all the time.
toji was hesitant still, unsure of whether he would be punished if he were to continue to touch you. you notice how uncertain his shaky hands were. snickering, you wiped your mouth clean from your saliva. naoya noticed your actions.
taking a deep breath in, toji stepped closer to you, no longer worried about what his leader might say about him. daringly, he lifted you up by your thighs and placed you on a nearby table. without asking for permission, his dry lips were on your wet pussy, slurping. you were shocked by the sudden intrusion, reaching out to grab anything.
toji placed two of his thick index and middle finger inside your pussy. it was easy, since you were terribly wet. because of his finger's long length, he was able to reach into your g-spot immediately, making you see stars.
gripping onto his muscular shoulders, you couldn't help but to yelp and moan in pleasure, "ah f-fuck, t-toji....you're so fucking bi-". his ego was boosted and he was ramming into your tight pussy at an intense speed ; faster than naoya.
scoffing, the clan's leader didn't take this lightly. who does toji think he is? fucking his wife better than him?
he grabbed you by the arm, simultaneously removing toji's hard cock from you. you mewled due to the emptiness you felt.
"aren't you enjoying his cock? this better teach you who's in charge over here," naoya slammed himself into your abused hole.
tears came pouring down your face from the pain, it wasn't pleasurable anymore. did naoya care? no.
"my. fucking. hole."
toji noticed your discomfort and wanted to caress your limp hands and legs.
"s-sir, she's in pain...she's bleeding sir i think you should sto-" toji's pleas for naoya to stop was only greeted by a menacing glare.
"who's your leader here, general?" naoya cut him off, not liking how he wanted to come in between the sadistic pleasure he was getting while torturing you.
"y-you sir, i'm sorry.."
toji was asked to leave the room, with blue balls, and a worrisome thought about how you were doing.
part 2 here
#fics#jjk smut#jjk#toji fushiguro#toji#smut#naoya#naoya zenin x you#toji x you#threesome?#potong stim
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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 5
Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |-| Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19
AO3
Summary: Egan's first mission since Cleven's disappearance proves disastrous, leaving Frankie to clean up the damage he left behind
Warnings: Language, vomit, this one's angsty guys
Word Count: 4k
Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58
The smell of cigarette smoke stung Bucky's nose, his warm breath fogging up the inside of the cockpit windows as he stared aimlessly at the early morning sky, dull grey gradually giving way to a vivid blue as the sun crept above the horizon. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, glaring at nothing, but this certainly wasn't his first cigarette, a pair of burnt-out butts on the floor by his feet a testament to this. It could have been sadness or anger that had driven him up here, but when the two combined it felt awfully more like numbness than anything else.
A sudden hammering against the glass broke his train of thought, dropping his cigarette in surprise as if left a small scorch mark on the inside of his trousers. Turning to his left, expression contorted in shock, he came face to face with Frankie, her furrowed brow only inches from the window after somehow managing to clamber up onto the wing without him noticing.
"What the- get down!" Egan cried, stomping out his cigarette before it could become a fire hazard.
"If that cockpit's full of cigarette butts now, I'm gonna beat your ass," She warned, her voice slightly muffled by the glass.
"...No," He shook his head, attempting to covertly use his uniform cap as a makeshift dustpan to clean up his mess, but when he looked back up at Frankie her eyes had narrowed at him. "What do you want?"
"Colonel Harding's looking for you. Personally, I just didn't want to deal with the smell after you drink and smoke yourself to death in here. I'd much rather you do it somewhere else, please."
A flicker of a smile crossed Egan's face, perhaps the first he could remember since he'd heard the news about Cleven. Half-empty flask tucked in his pocket, a hat full of ashes in his hand, he clambered out of the pilot's seat, weaving his way through the plane's interior to drop down out of the door. Frankie was waiting on the tarmac for him as his feet touched the ground, peering discerningly up at him. She swiped the flask from his pocket and took a swig for herself, giving a shrug of almost-approval at his choice of drink as she handed it back.
"I'm not gonna ask if you're ok," She frowned, yanking the cap from his hand and upturning its contents.
"Good," Bucky nodded, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they wandered back towards the jeep she had come in. "Weather report?"
Frankie glared up at him. He knew she objected to his participating in the next mission - it was only a matter of time before she actually tried to argue about it. Really, it was more a question of whether she was going to fight him, or try and take on the general. "Clearing up. D'you need me to drive you back?"
"If it was anyone else I might have said yes, but you... you're really bad at driving," Evidently she had anticipated this response, for her bike was already sticking out of the trunk, waiting for her to surrender the vehicle to him.
"Alright, one sec," Frankie gestured for him to turn and face her, surveying his appearance like she was a mother about to send her son off to the school dance. Reaching up, she tugged his tie straight, brushing a few flakes of ash from his jacket with the back of her hand. "Open," She demanded, and he opened his mouth without question, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Taking a whiff of the alcohol on his breath, Frankie frowned, and Egan found himself unable to utter a word before she shoved a couple of breath mints into his mouth with such force he almost choked.
"Gee, thanks," He spluttered, coughing. "Might choke to death, but at least I'm not gonna smell."
"I can't do everything," She shrugged, stepping away to grab her bike out of the jeep.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky drawled sarcastically, clearing his throat one last time as he slid into the driver's seat, the engine starting with a roar as he watched Frankie begin to cycle away in the rearview mirror.
It was barely beginning to rain, spots of cold water striking Frankie's face as she pedalled relentlessly, taking it at a somewhat leisurely pace for once, too distracted to sprint the way she usually would. They were running a mission today. They had run one yesterday. They had run one the day before. She was losing track of the last time she'd slept more than a couple of hours in a night, the constant missions meaning tougher, tighter deadlines for all her work. The fixes needed to be completed twice as fast, and it was becoming physically impossible to keep all the buses air-worthy as needed.
Lemmons and the others were already on site and working away as she arrived, a fact that lessened her anxiety ever-so-slightly. In the months since they'd arrived, her begrudging acceptance of the American mechanics had grown more and more willing - they'd proved their worth, their dedication, and she couldn't ask more than that.
"How many can fly today?" She called, abandoning her bike in the grass as she jogged over to the hardstand where Ken was working away.
"Still only seventeen," He sighed. "A couple need fixes to the return lines, but we just don't have time for any big repairs."
"I know," Frankie nodded grimly. "Daily missions are a nightmare, just pull through with what you can, they can't blame us for any of this."
His expression was tense, tainted with guilt. She could tell he was thinking of Cleven again. "Hey," Frankie urged, pressing a reassuring hand to his shoulder. "None of this is our fault." Lemmons nodded after a moment's pause, tilting his head to let his chin rest upon the spot where her hand gripped his shoulder.
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By the time the flight crews began rolling in in their jeeps, Frankie had grown so irritable that she swore her teeth would shatter if her jaw clenched itself any harder. The constant frustration of never being able to carry out the repairs she wanted, the ever-present worry that burrowed into her stomach whenever the pilots left, and the anger she felt at Egan for going with them, were all colliding in an explosive combination. And her fellow mechanics seemed to feel it - even Ken was keeping his distance.
Bucky's car slowed to a halt behind her as she finished up, and she turned to glare at him, a look he was sure he'd never seen crease her face before. "Now, Frankie," He approached with a plastered-on grin, seizing her by the shoulders as he tried to alleviate her mood with his own false joyfulness. "Why is it that we're only flying seventeen buses this morning? I hope Lemmons over there hasn't been screwing with your excellent work."
He had touched a nerve. Unfortunately for Egan, this realisation came a split-second too late. Before he knew it, there was a spanner jammed under his chin, as if she held a knife to his throat, her expression only made harsher by the remark. "Maybe if some people didn't force themselves in where they aren't needed we wouldn't have to pull everything together in such a fucking hurry, eh?"
"Ok, Frank, tough morning, I get it," He nodded, releasing her shoulders and taking a full step back. But he wasn't going to pretend her statement about him being unneeded hadn't sparked his own anger. "But don't take that out on me, I'll pass your concern on to Harding, and we'll see what he can-"
"The only thing I want Harding to get is a smack up the fucking head for letting you fly."
"This is war, Frankie, you think I'm gonna sit out because of what happened? I've never wanted this more than I do now!"
Without fully realising, their voices had begun to rise, argument audible to the other ground and flight crews nearby as they attempted to awkwardly go about their business.
"We both know you're not fit to fly - oh, or does a breakfast of whisky and cigarettes pass the military standard these days? You're burning the candle at both ends and you won't talk to me about it because you're embarrassed by how obvious it's become, John!"
"You really wanna go there? How 'bout we talk about how you spend every fucking night up here working until you drop, and the only times you don't is when you're drinking yourself to the same effect? How many hours did you sleep last night - or the night before, huh? Two? Three? Don't stand there and fucking lecture me about 'burning the candle at both ends'-" He lifted his hands in quotation marks, mockingly mimicking her accent. "- when I'm just following your example!"
Frankie didn't speak for a moment, but as Bucky tried to walk past her, she swivelled on her heel, yelling at him with such force that it was a miracle the entire bomb squad didn't hear. "Why do I have to lose my friend just because you lost yours?!"
He stopped dead in his tracks, stone-cold expression cracking for a second. "Frankie-"
Raising a hand to silence him, she shook her head. "No- you know what? Just fuck off. Get in your death trap and fuck off. At least I'll have one less mess to clean up when you don't come back. I'm sure Cleven will be so proud that his legacy amounted to that."
Frankie could tell she'd hurt him. His glare didn't falter, but she saw the way he flinched when she mentioned Cleven. If she'd been in a more forgiving mood, she might have apologised on the spot - taken it all back, promised she wanted nothing more than for him to return safe and in one piece. But she was tired and she was angry, and apologising was the last thing on her agenda. Hot tears were welling in her eyes as she stomped off, the clanging weight of her toolbox accentuating every step as she officially declared whatever happened next as Not Her Problem.
'Royal Flush' was the next plane along the runway, close enough so that every shouted word of Egan and Frankie's exchange had carried on the wind, the flight crew exchanging embarrassed glances as they tried to ignore the conversation they had suddenly found themselves privy to. Rosie had been about to climb in, but the sudden shouts had given him pause, waiting by the hatch as he watched on with a furrowed brow. Her boots thumped hard against the tarmac as she marched up to them, tools weighing her down on one side.
"Everything looks good?" She demanded, stopping in front of the plane, her usually jovial tone gone.
He frowned, concern twisting his expression. "Everything is - yeah - are you ok?"
Frankie's lip jutted out for a moment, and Rosie grew suddenly worried that she was about to burst into tears. Taking a sharp, shaky inhale, she nodded firmly. "Everything's great."
He slammed the hatch shut, gesturing for her to step underneath the plane's belly so that they were out of both sight and earshot of the rest of Rosie's Riveters. She did so, putting her toolbox down at her feet so that she could wipe away the tears that were forming with the heels of her palms. "I'm really tired."
Rosie almost laughed, a huff escaping him as she confirmed every suspicion he'd harboured about her unorthodox work hours. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he brushed her hair away from where it had stuck to half-dried tears. "Oh, honey," He uttered before he'd had a chance to actually consider the words, the pair of them brushing past the term of endearment without a second thought, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "He's gonna be fine. Egan'll come back in a couple hours, and you can both apologise to each other, and everything'll be fine."
She sniffed sharply, nodding, and he chuckled as she reached up to tug the zipper on his jacket all the way up past his collar, the sheepskin brushing against his chin. "Don't get... like... shot, or anything."
He grinned, nodding affirmatively. "Duly noted. Nice pep talk."
Frankie smiled then too, thumping him in the shoulder like she always did when he teased her. "I'm not kidding," She chuckled. "If every person I'm seen talking to before a flight fucking dies people will start thinking I'm bad luck."
Rosie raised a brow at this, flicking away another stray strand of hair that had gotten caught on her eyelash. "Well... of all the ways to go, I'll take your weird bad-luck-magic any day."
She sniffed again, her eyes still red from almost crying. "Thank you," She nodded earnestly.
"Alright. I'll see you later?"
"You hope," Frankie joked, smile flickering for a moment as she realised the remark may have been in bad taste, but he chuckled nonetheless, opening the hatch and climbing up into 'Royal Flush'. As his head popped up in the belly of the machine, Rosie noticed his co-pilot crouched on the floor beside him, eyeing him with a raised brow.
"... What?"
"Jesus Christ," Pappy muttered, pushing himself to his feet and worming his way through to the cockpit.
"Pappy, what?" Rosie insisted, close behind him. The man batted him away, and he threw up his hands in frustration, sliding into the pilot's seat.
"This thing ain't as sound-proof as you think it is, that's all I'm sayin'."
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Frankie squinted in the midday sun as she lay in the grass beside the runway, the tall grass blowing in and out of her peripherals on the cool breeze. The wait was always agony - the uncertainty, the sense of powerlessness, the surety that some of the men who had left were never coming back. It seemed word of her public argument with Major Egan had travelled fast, for as soon as lunchtime rolled around, there was George. She never bothered to walk all the way to the airstrip from the command centre, but today she had made the hike, a paper bag full of cheese and cucumber sandwiches in tow.
Lemmons sat silently, cross-legged in the grass as he enjoyed his lunch. "Thanks for this, ma'am, it was real nice of you," He nodded appreciatively, making up for his and George's lack of familiarity with polite flattery.
"Yeah," Frankie agreed, speaking with a mouth full of cheese. "Much better than the shit coffee and stale crackers we keep in the hut."
George furrowed her brow, frowning questioningly over at Ken. "No refrigerator," He shrugged, offering no further explanation.
Frankie ate with one hand, a difficult task when lying down, half of the sandwich filling falling out onto her chest. But her other hand was draped across George's leg as she painted her nails a subtle shade of mauve, scolding her whenever she twitched. When she was stressed, she smoked too much, and George had long since realised that the best way to curb the bad habit was to distract her with food, or to ensure her hands were indisposed. On a particularly stressful afternoon such as this one, it seemed combined efforts were in order.
"... You don't think Bucky hates me now, do you?" Frankie asked quietly, her two companions frowning down at her.
"What are you, twelve?" George snorted, carefully finishing off the edges of her thumbnail. "He'll get over it. Grown-ups fight, dear."
"You're both having a hard time," Ken added. "He's just blowing off steam, I don't think he meant any of it."
"I meant what I said. When I said it, that is."
"Once you got drunk and told me you wanted to rip my eyes out because I was too pretty - I haven't held it against you," George shrugged. "You definitely meant that at the time."
"I'm easily frustrated."
"Yeah, no shit."
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George's watch ticked steadily past the time they had expected the planes to return. She didn't return to work - didn't leave Frankie's side - sitting beside her in the grass, a deathly silence hanging over them as she began to pick and chip away at her freshly dried nail polish.
"They should have been back by-"
"Shh." Frankie interrupted sharply, an utterly dreadful sense of foreboding hollowing out her gut. She didn't realise how thoroughly she'd picked at her hand until her finger came away bloody. Where were they?
The sound of an engine rattling above made their ears prick, gazes locked on the same spot on the great blue horizon as a single plane came into view.
Just one.
Before she even realised she was nauseous, Frankie had vomited the contents of her stomach onto the grass in front of her. If none of them had returned, it could have meant any number of things. She knew exactly what one plane meant. She didn't even watch it land, just stared down at the stinking puddle before her as it soaked into the dirt.
In her mind, she had a choice now. When the time came to head over, she had to decide on who she was praying would climb out.
Bucky or Rosie.
Even if it was neither, it couldn't be both.
But then a second rumble sounded, and before she'd had time to look up and track its movements, another plane was pulling in, its wings jagged and torn, engines sputtering as it slowly descended.
'Royal Flush'.
A terrible, ragged noise escaped Frankie's throat, something between a sob and a sigh of relief. Scrambling to her feet, George thrust her half-empty flask of lukewarm coffee into her hand, and she downed the whole thing, the bitterness mixing with the acidic tang in her mouth, masking the smell of sickness as best she could.
Rosie hadn't even had time to register her approach. No sooner had he slipped out of the hatch did he feel the sudden crush of another body against his, her arms thrown around his neck, her hand in his hair, holding him steady. Suddenly he was breathing again.
He wasn't sure he'd ever held anybody so tight, relishing the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet as he wrapped his arms around her back, hands pressed so firmly against her skin that he could feel her rapid heartbeat beneath it, a desperate tether to life. She was breathing in his ear, his curls waving back and forth with it, and without thinking he reached up to pluck a piece of grass away that had gotten stuck in her hair.
Her breath didn't come easy - he could hear the laboured way she pulled in each inhale, as if a weight were pressing on her chest, keeping her lungs empty. When she spoke it was barely a whisper.
"Egan?"
Rosie shook his head ever so slightly, the guilt of what he knew he had to say eating away at him. "I gotta wait until after interrogation, I can't-"
Suddenly Frankie pulled out of the embrace, hands clutching either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. Her hands were gentle in the way they pressed against his cheeks, but in that moment it felt like a vice grip. That warmth he had become so fond of was gone, her eyes merciless, and Rosie knew in that moment that if he didn't tell her now she would never forgive him.
"He went down Frankie, they all- ... They all went down."
A horrible, agonising sound tore free from her throat, half whimper, half choke, and immediately she was blinded by the tears that filled her eyes. His fingers found hers, ever so gently prying her palms away from his face so that he could hold her again, pressing his lips briefly to her sweat-soaked temple. If he could, he would have stayed there for hours, for as long as she needed someone to be there whilst she wept. But he couldn't. For someone he'd known only weeks, walking away from her was suddenly the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.
Frankie didn't turn to watch him go, didn't spare a glance to the surviving Riveters as they climbed into the back of one of the trucks, whisked away to interrogation.
What the fuck could they say that wasn't already obvious?
She felt a hand press against her shoulder, and turned her head to meet Ken's gaze, his expression twisted with fear.
"Bucky?" He asked. The simple question was enough to undo her, and all at once Frankie burst into tears, accepting his embrace as he offered it.
Just fuck off. Get in your death trap and fuck off.
At least I'll have one less mess to clean up when you don't come back.
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel anything but a terrible, harrowing guilt, so heavy that it made her very bones ache. If she hadn't already upturned the contents of her stomach, she would have done so now, the desperate feeling of nausea left with nothing to cling to within her.
Frankie Bevan had lost people to war before. She had loved people and sent them away, and they had never returned. But not once in her life had she let them leave without them knowing she loved them. Not until now.
"He forgave you," She heard Lemmons murmur, his hand stroking her hair in that way her father used to soothe her when she got too mad - when the world got too heavy, too weighty for her hands alone. "He knew you didn't mean it."
She sniffed loudly, clutching at the dirty fabric of his coveralls. "He loved me, didn't he?"
"Oh yeah."
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Rosie sat on one of the benches outside the interrogation hut, staring down at the cup of Red Cross coffee that warmed his hands. They had made too many cups. He had walked in and seen them, laid out row by row, and taken the first of the front row like he was supposed to - leave the rest for the others. But there were no others. And suddenly the bitter liquid was the least appetising thing in the world.
The bench's wooden slats creaked as someone sat down beside him. Frankie was sitting on her hands, staring blankly at a fixed spot in the grass ahead. Wordlessly, he held the coffee out to her, and she took it, the hot liquid scalding her tongue as she took a sip.
"Jesus," She sputtered, grimacing at the sudden pain.
"Still hot," Rosie said.
"Yeah, I noticed," Frankie huffed, sucking in cool air through her teeth to soothe the burn.
"Hey, I'm really sorry about-"
"Don't," She interrupted, shaking her head. "You don't have to do that, it's okay."
At some point during their flight, Rosie had sliced the skin along his hairline, droplets of blood drying and encrusting his forehead. Frankie put the still-hot coffee down, reaching up to brush his curls out of the way with her thumb. Her hand was still warm from holding the cup, and he felt the urge to lean closer.
"That hurt?"
"Nah. It's just a scratch - I don't even know how I got it."
She nodded, hand falling back down at her side. Neither of them moved for a moment, but when Rosie lifted his arm she seemed to get the message, leaning into his side, arms wrapped around his torso. His chin rested atop Frankie's head, the smell of her hair filling his lungs with each slow inhale.
"I don't know what we're supposed to do now."
#masters of the air#masters of the air oc#masters of the air fic#rosie rosenthal#rosie rosenthal x oc#mota#mota fic#john egan#ken lemmons#oc: frankie#oc: george#fic | i'm your man
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BLOODPLAY
david x reader
warnings; NSFW. so MDNI, gn! reader, sub! reader, autonomy not mentioned, vampires being vamps, biting, blood-sucking, bloodplay (obvi), mentions of stimulation ( thigh grinding), david calls you kitten 🐱, kinda gross shit so read with caution if sensitive to blood.
You and David were sitting in the cave and everybody else was out. David was sitting in his chair with you in his lap. Book in hand, you felt David's gloved hand slither around your waist and turn you around.
"David, what're you doing?" You asked softly as you looked at him, making direct contact with his lifeless eyes.
"What d'you mean?" He asked softly as he kissed your neck and whispered things into your ear. Things that would make anyone who could blush, blush. You let out soft moans before he bit down on your exposed shoulder.
"D-david!" You yelped as you pulled away slightly. He smiled before swiping his finger over the blood and smeared it on your face. "Wh-what are you doing?" You asked again before he bit your collarbone.
"You look absolutely astonishing with blood on you, maybe I should do this more often," He whispered before moving you to his thigh. David tapped his foot on the ground, sending pleasure to your lower half, resulting in soft moans and whines leaving your mouth.
"Mmmph, David," you groaned as you tried to cover your mouth. David's hand quickly removed your hand.
"Lemme hear you kitten, please," He whispered as he smeared more blood over your exposed skin. Surprisingly David hadn't gone over the edge with biting you, yet. "Grind on my thigh, I know you want to, I feel how aroused you already are."
You got closer to him and moved your hips in your restricting clothing. More moans, louder moans left your lips as you quickened your pace on his thigh. You hadn't noticed that David was biting your neck and drinking from you until you felt his gloved hand smear more of your blood on your skin.
"David, I'm c-close," you whined as you put your head on his shoulder. His hands moved to your hips, helping you through your close orgasm.
"Cum for me kitten," He whispered as he licked the blood from your neck, collarbones, and shoulder. You whined before you finally came, a look of relief and pleasure washing over your face.
"Thank you, David," you said softly as you looked at him with soft eyes.
"You're welcome," he said as he gently turned you back around to read your book.
#the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#the lost boys x reader#the lost boys imagines#the lost boys david#david the lost boys#tlb smut#the lost boys smut#kinktober#blood play
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JoJo's nightly prayer was usually a comforting sound to Elmer. He may not be religious himself, but the soft murmur of his best friend's voice as he prayed lulled him to sleep most nights.
Not tonight, though. Tonight the sound distressed him.
Jack wasn't on the roof, even he had enough sense to sleep inside when it was cold. So Elmer slipped down from his bunk and crept over to the window, scuttling up the ladder. He wasn't allowed on the roof without one of the older boys, according to Jack, but right now Elmer didn't care what Jack did or didn't allow.
"Um... hullo, God. Or Jesus. Whichever of you are listening." He didn't kneel, or clasp his hands, but he did lift his head to stare up at the big white moon, faintly through the wispy clouds.
"I know JoJo's praying at the moment, and you should listen to him, but I hope one'a you can listen to me." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts.
"Romeo's dad came by again today. He scares me- not as much as he scares Romeo, 'course. Mush scared him off 'fore Kloppman even got to the door though. An' Sniper's dad came by yesterday. I dunno why Sniper keeps going home when he hurts him like that. That's what I wanted to ask you; why d'you let people hurt other people?"
A particularly sharp gust of wind bit at his bare arms. JoJo would probably say it was a Sign, that he was asking questions he shouldn't, but Elmer was tired of the questions building up inside him.
"Why- why did you let Mr. Wiesel an' the Delanceys and the police hurt us during the strike? Why did you let Mr. Pulitzer and Hearst raise their prices, when you must know how we live?" His voice was trembling now, increasing in volume unintentionally, "Why'd JoJo get sent on a ship here alone over a war that never even happened- n-not that I'm not happy he's here, but he doesn't know how to find his parents! Half my friends can't be with their family for one reason or 'nother, an' the other half are terrified of them! Why d'you let that happen? Why did you let my mama send me away? I don't know what I did wrong!"
Elmer was shouting now, his cheeks damp and vision blurred with tears. He didn't even realise. Someone was speaking to him, although he couldn't make out what they were saying. He felt warm, safe arms suddenly wrap around him, pulling him close against someone's chest and turning his face away from the moon.
The moon gave no answer to his questions, and neither did anyone else.
#having. a lot of feelings tonight#Elmer is a vessel to process it#newsies#newsies fanfic#elmer newsies
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and soon it’ll be spring
testing out some character voices. Set in a vague future timeline, fandom-typical discussions of child abuse.
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Carlos hasn't seen his mother in years. Hasn't spoken to her since he left the isle. There's phones, and computers, and mail service to the isle, and sometimes the reception even works now, but he hasn't reached out.
Evie sends letters to her mother sometimes. She addresses them to her old castle, encloses herbs and chocolate and eyeshadow. She doesn't read the responses that come back, but her mother sends them anyway, and Evie keeps sending her packages even though she can't bear to see whatever her mother has to say back to her.
Carlos can't even do that.
He's a bad son, probably. An ungrateful brat. Useless. Worthless. His mother could have drowned him as a baby, killed him like an unwanted puppy, and they'd all have been better off without the bother. He's been a bad son since he was born. Weak. A vulnerability.
He breathes, keeps his voice steady. "Yup. That."
Diego moves in a flurry of violent motion. He's facing away, towards the river, but Carlos still has to suppress the urge to flinch. Diego wears heavy boots, steel-toes even though he's never been in a real factory in his life, and every Isle kid's seen the damage they can do.
The rock he kicked goes flying into the river.
"Fuck." his cousin snaps. "Fuck! I remember that."
Carlos can't laugh, but there's a sort of bubbling fear that's catching in his throat, and he can let some of it out. "Hah. Yeah. Um, I sort of — I cried a lot, that summer? It was hot and awful and you wouldn't come by the house, and I wasn't allowed to be at yours, so we started looking for a better hideout that year. D'you remember when Ivy found that place by the forest—"
"—the one with the metal roof, where we got trapped by Kaa and you rigged a crossbow out of guitar strings." Diego finishes. "Fuck. I knew we found a new hideout that year, but I thought it was 'cause we got those drums for Sierra and couldn't keep them quiet down in the warehouse."
Carlos shrugs. He's always been the little one, the tag-along. Diego's gang didn't tell him anything when he was a kid, and they still don't really talk. He's magicam friends with Sierra and Ivy, but Mia won't even accept his follow request. They didn't want him then, they don't want him now, and it's not even really a sore point anymore. He's got his own pack. No teenagers really want a little kid hanging around them, especially a kid who's already showing that he's a weak point. "Might'a been. I dunno."
"Nah, it was 'cause dad didn't want you hanging around the house anymore," Diego says firmly, shaking his head. "We found a new place so you'd have somewhere to go'n hide when your mom went ballistic. You were tiny, y'know."
It's sort of a logical leap, but sort of not.
"I'm still short." Carlos points out. "You don't feel compelled to protect me now, right?"
"Hah. Hah. Very funny, nerd."
"I'm just saying—”He ducks the hand that shoots out to scrub his hair into a rat's nest. Score one for Isle kid instincts. "I'm say-ing," Carlos continues, undeterred. "That you didn't have to protect me back then. I could've taken care of myself."
"You were a kid."
"And you were what, twelve? Thirteen?"
"Older," Diego says firmly. He's still looking out towards the water. "Old enough to protect my baby cousin."
"Mom didn't kill me. I'm still here."
Diego's arms are smooth and unmarked by the round cigarette burns that cover Carlos's arms, hands, chest, belly. Anywhere he was soft, she liked to burn.
"She could've," Diego rasps out. "She almost did. I wasn't big enough to stop her."
"The spell—”
"FUCK THE SPELL." he shouts. Too loud. People are looking at them. People in Auradon love to stare and judge VKs, even when they're dressed just like anyone else in the city, but shouting was a reason to stare even back home.
Diego notices, and drops his arms down, swinging the cup in his hand back and forth like a melting pendulum of coffee and sugar. "Fuck it," he repeats, quieter. "If Auradon wanted us alive so bad, they should've put in the work themselves instead of relying on the barrier to keep bouncing us back."
Carlos lifts one shoulder in agreement. He's pretty sure that the spell does a lot more than just keep them in their bodies, what with the healing factor and the way it won't kick you back in unless you've got a body to go back to, but it's a solid enough argument if you don't go into specifics. Claudine and the religious types at Dragon Hall had a whole rant on tap about how the barrier was being used to bounce their souls out of their path to heaven, so that they'd rejoin their bodies again and keep them alive even longer, but thinking about the concept of souls makes Carlos feel an emotion that Mal calls "stabbing" and Jay calls "a working bullshit sensor." Evie calls it "a rational emotional response to religious guilt-tripping bullshit", which sounds better than stabbing, but like, the point still stands that souls aren't real and listening to Claudine's lecture about them makes Carlos feel mostly doubtful, and also sort of like he's a shitty person. Which is probably the point of religion.
"S'not really bouncing," he says quietly, keeping his voice low and face turned down. People stare less if they're not obviously talking to each other, because Auradon has different standards for communication and watching VKs shout-talk directly at each other makes people stare. "It's not like we ever really die."
Diego levels a flat look at him.
"Okay, yeah, they should've put more work into keeping us alive," Carlos agrees, because it's true. Auradon locked them up and threw away the key, and didn't even bother to check on their island of villains once they'd settled down from the initial bloodshed and power scrambles. "But the scientific basis for being bounced back into our bodies by the spell just isn't there. If they're using the barrier to trap our souls or whatever in an impenetrable bubble, then how're new souls getting in for the kids born on the Isle? If it's a true closed system it doesn't make sense. And I know--" He sucks in a breath before Diego can get a word in edgewise, because he knows. The souls aren't the point. The magic isn't even the point. "It doesn't matter how they're keeping us there so long as there's still kids starving and being killed on that rock. I know. But I can't push the wheels of government any faster, because I'm not the fucking king, or a representative, or anything. I'm a testimony at best,and it's not like being born on the Isle gives me the power to do anything about it."
Diego snorts. "Wow, you can't fix twenty years of systematic disenfranchisement on your own? Call the presses, my genius cousin can't fix something in five years that took twenty to break in the first place."
The guilt that lives in the place where other people keep their feelings swirls up in Carlos's chest again. "I could've tried."
"In between what, surviving high school? Petitioning the king to listen to us? 'Cause it seems like we're a lot further than we'd've been without your crew's work."
"I built a machine to break the barrier," Carlos tells the river. "Back home. Before we left. It nearly worked."
Diego kicks another rock into the river. "I know."
Carlos feels his heart stutter-stop. "You—what?"
"I know," Diego repeats. "You built shit all the time. You'd talk about it in your sleep. I stopped by that treehouse of yours one time, and you had the whole thing torn apart. You were talking to your crew about it. I listened for a while."
"When?"
The cold bottom of his cousin's coffee cup bonks into Carlos's skull. "Before you left, genius. I dunno. You didn't have it working yet."
"I thought I was being sneaky about that."
"You were. I'm just sneakier. If you'd been reverse engineering the whole barrier, you'd've built it better right?"
"I would've given us the dignity of dying, if that's what you're asking."
"Yeah." Diego says quietly, and then. "Fuck. That's morbid."
Carlos shrugs. Maybe thinking about better ways to die makes them morbid, but it's still comforting to think that if he'd been the one to engineer their prison, that he'd've been able to give them the mercy of actually dying. "We're villains. It's our speciality. We're supposed to be all about death, and murder, and stuff."
Diego laughs. They laugh the same way, the two of them. More of a bark than a real laugh. There's probably some irony there, if they wanted to go digging for it. "Didn't you hear, little cousin? We're supposed to be good now. No more murder. We're reformed villains, no more claws and fangs."
They're reformed, but Diego still calls at 3am sometimes, just to make sure that he's still breathing.
"Damn, guess I'll have to return the axe I bought," Carlos drawls, hefting his cup up like it's a weapon. "And the rat poison, and the chains for the dungeon..."
"Kinky."
#my fic#descendants#descendants fic#I don’t know if this makes sense anymore without the layers of Being Insane About My Own AU#but!!!#they’re talking about a specific family event that happened when they were like. Eleven and fourteenish.#carlos de vil#diego de vil#cinderellaverse
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overdue Episode 11 post
basically the chenswire part of my stupidly long twitter thread covering ep 11 with more delusional thoughts and I ended up TLing their last scene in CN I guess (scroll to bottom) i wish i had the energy to make 1morbillion gifs but i do not so.. Excerpts from my 200 image screenshot folder it is
So the ep starts off with a super pensive Swire which was very cute when will my wife return from the war energy
And then she breaks out into a super un-ladylike run whaddahell!!!! this sequence was sooo well drawn wtf. handsome
(Something here about how people were joking this part is summer chen because they call chummer 水陈 'water chen')
I like how relaxed the atmosphere was like this definitely isn't the first time something like this has happened, well I mean after all they are Professional Co-workers who do not fight 24/7 (they get into an argument immediately after)
When they break eye contact to turn towards Hoshiguma they basically don't meet each other's gazes again as they take turns to glare at each other its insane... Also Swire saying she should take over and Chen needs treatment... Chen you understand what that means right...
Another detail I love is how at the start they already show her battered jacket/clothes for us gamers to point at the screen and then later who those who don't know/didn't notice we have a whole close up of chen reacting to it...man.jpg And swire leaving right away once she knows chen is fine (and one of her good points. lol. lmao) you guys are sure so quick
Link to CN version of the PUUK GAI LUNG in Paci Plaza I love how she's like 'Chen you stay right there' at the end like she's going to idk fly over ASAP to whack her (as opposed to just 'hey, chen!')
Here's a clip of the last scene with CN dub because not only do we get 'ah chen' it just hits so different...
Hi~ Still there, Miss Ah Chen? Ah? What d'you mean by ah, huh? Aren't you a Dai Siu Ze too? Enough of that, don't you have something to tell me? What happened at Paci Plaza… I'll make sure to sort it all out and file for damages later.
Had a feeling they would go with the JP loc's 'aren't you an ojou too' since you know, anime, but keeping the 'ah chen' and that 阿什么阿 response the unparalleled casualness
You… Remember the Cha Chaan Teng at Sheung Wan? Trying to change the subject? The one near the LGD HQ, right? I used to stop by there on my patrols sometimes. Let me treat you to something there next time. Hmm~ If we go there… I want a steak tomato and egg burger! Wait, no! Like hell I'd want you to treat me to a meal!
the longer pause after 'you...' like she was considering something else before she decided to go with her 茶餐厅 MENTION!!!!! gives this a whole different flavour... chen outright offering the meal instead of swire guessing??? THE WARM SMILE CLOSE UP i feel like im intruding on something
Then send your bill to Chief Wei. I'm hanging up. Wait, don't hang up just yet! I heard you ran straight out of Rhodes Island in the end. What are you planning? Weren't you looking for their help? Ugh, stay down! Take a nap over there! You sure sound busy. Guess I should hang up. Tch… I'm not done speaking with you yet. Was leaving the little bunny (and the others) over there weighing on your mind? Well, whatever. (We'll just do this) Just let me help you clean up the mess over here.
It just sounds so much more casual in CN than the JP dub (which is excellent ofc) >let me do it for you instead of 'ill do it' (head in hands)
the opposite lighting and angle and chen looking away vs swire looking straight #KINO
Don't talk like you understand me very well, Miss S. Enough!!! How many times have I told you not to call me that!! Got it, got it.
You don't seem to get it, so I'll be nice today and explain it to you. Life is extremely precious. You're always risking your life chasing what's right in front of you. Stop doing that. Got that? Your advice… I'll take it.
That exasperated 'Enough!!!' i (turns into a plane and flies away) and the last line... it as 'thanks for the advice' which technically isn't wrong but you know the nuance of uh. kind of, almost, somewhat, accepting a... confession... (of her concern ofc) also CN chen lets swire finish speaking instead of interrupting which hehe... like i said..the flavour hits different. also that subtle movement as chen like eases in more and more between those lines aaaghhhhhhhhhh
their earlier argument was so explosive and quick, but now their banter is so tender and slow like bruh. what. even the act of chen putting down her sword to sit down in a comfortable position (loved that she sat like that One leg sitters rise up!!!) was so ??? the normally yolo speedrunner chen being so leisurely like damn. ok. ok. From 'you think you can order me around' to basically agreeing to an order (Londinium cannon vine boom) I thought Chen being this warm was more or less a delusion that I inferred through in game as subtext (since in game her expression then is usually like her default rbf face...) and seeing it here as 'text' in the show is like 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 holy shit can't believe i got FED after four years incidentally i've been obsessed with a certain CN writer's fics lately because the way they write chen like a sad wet dog while showing warmth is crazyyy maybe i will blog about it next time because i was legit taking notes lmao
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