#which is ironic because they fuck immediately but the romance is a slow burn

[wannab-urs]

Burn Slowly/I Love You | Chapter 1

Warnings/Content/Summary: As always I live in a fantasy world where no one gets pregnant or gets STDs and no one uses a condom. This is fiction. Wear a fucking condom. Sex while intoxicated but like it’s two maybe three beers y’all they aren’t drunk. Alternating POV kind of? Reader has burn scars on her left arm, wrapping over her shoulder and a bit onto her chest. No other physical descriptors. Remember that Frankie is strong as hell so it doesn’t matter if you’re petite or amazonian, this man can toss you around all he wants to. Fuck first feelings later type beat. Eventual descriptions of PTSD, trauma, minor character death, panic attacks, flashbacks, etc.

Word Count - 2.2k

Your Chest is Heavy

You’re sitting at the worn oak counter of a dive bar just a few blocks from your apartment with a cheap beer and a copy of The Secret History. Reading at the bar is a good way to scare off most men who would normally approach you. The rest usually fuck off when you don’t even look up from the book, muttering “not interested” in their direction. It’s really hard to focus on this book, though. The plot is a little meandering, for one, but there’s also a lot of people here tonight making it loud. 

A sudden burst of laughter draws your attention. A group of guys stand around a hightop table on the far side of the room. At first glance, none are particularly appealing to you. Rowdy, obscenely muscular, clean shaven, close cropped hair. Not your type at all. You’re just about to go back to your book when one of the guys catches your eye. He doesn’t look quite like the others. Unruly dark curls stick out of a ballcap, a scruffy beard clings to his cheeks. He’s got broad shoulders and big arms like the others, but his face is softer around the edges. His eyes are still caught in the crinkles of his laughter when he meets your stare. Shit you’re staring. 

You quickly look back down at your book, curling in on yourself, hoping he doesn’t come over. You’ve basically used universal bar sign language for come talk to me and that is not what you want. Even if he’s really cute. 

“Dude, she was practically eating you with her eyes. Go over there!” Benny playfully nudges Frankie on the shoulder. 

“You haven’t had any action in ages, Catfish. Go,” Pope teases. 

Frankie scrubs a hand over his neck. “I don’t know. She was probably looking at you, Benny.” 

“She was definitely looking at you, Fish,” Will seems genuine, tone softer and less like he’s setting Frankie up to fail. 

Frankie sighs, lifting his cap and running a hand through his curls before stuffing it back on his head. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her.” The boys cheer like his love life is a fucking football game and he just scored a touchdown. 

Frankie slips into a bar stool beside you. “Uh… hi,” he says sheepishly. He feels like an idiot for doing this. 

“Not interested,” you mutter, barely even looking up from your book. Frankie’s face grows hot with shame. The boys will never let this go. Not a shot in hell. He sits there for a second, caught between facing your wrath if he doesn’t leave and facing the humiliation if he does. But just as he makes the decision to go, you look up at him. “Wait! I’m sorry. Habit.” 

Frankie cocks an eyebrow, but settles back into his seat. “I’m Frankie. Can I buy you a beer?”

“Yeah, Frankie. I’d like that.”

It wouldn’t have been right to send the man away without at least talking to him. That’s how you justify it to yourself. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was absolutely gorgeous up close. In that first quick glance you’d caught the curve of his aquiline nose, the pout of his plump lips, and the blush creeping over his golden cheeks. That was enough to warrant at least a conversation. 

And fuck it was a good conversation. He asked about your book, which led to a rant about all the reasons you didn’t like it and all the reasons you were still reading it anyway, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he grinned at you. “What?” 

“It’s cute when you ramble,” he’d said, scratching the back of his neck. 

You talked about your job at the library and he told you he’s an ambulance driver. He jerked a thumb toward the guys still nursing their beers behind him, “Firefighters. Buncha pendejos,” he’d said a little too loudly, winking at you. 

You had fully intended on letting him down gently. You didn’t come here to find someone to go home with, you came here to have a beer. And yet you had asked him if he wanted to head out of the bar. And now you’re sitting in  his truck, rolling down the highway.

“Can you turn the AC on?” You’re sweating through your long sleeve black shirt from the heat and your own nervousness. 

“Uh… It’s broken. I’m sorry,” Frankie kind of winces, like it physically hurts him to admit. “Not far from the house though.” 

“It’s fine! Just a little warm,” you play with the sleeve of your shirt and take a deep breath. It’s fine. It’s just a little heat. You’ll be okay. Breathe. “Actually, can I roll the window down?” 

Frankie chuckles and hits the button to roll all the windows in the truck down. Your heart rate evens out as the night air hits your face. 

The truck rolls to a stop in front of a small white house. You pick at your fingers, seriously questioning if you made the right choice. He seems so sweet. You feel… safe with him. But-

“Cariño? We’re here,” Frankie speaks low, like he’s worried you’ll spook and take off. He slowly reaches over the console and takes your hand, stopping your fidgeting. He rubs a soothing thumb over the back of your hand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah!” you say too quickly, too loudly in the stillness of the truck cab. “It’s just, uh… It’s been a while. I’m nervous.” Frankie pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it before laying it gently back down on the console. 

“It’s been a while for me too. I’ll take care of you, though. Promise.” He winks at you and it’s so dorky and cute that it calms you down a little. 

Frankie barely gets you through the door before he gently presses you into the wall and his soft, plush lips find yours. You melt into the kiss, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. You knock his trucker hat to the floor and bury your hands in his hair, deepening the kiss with a swipe of your tongue. He tastes like cheap beer and his beard scrapes against the soft skin of your face. He smells like citrus and sandalwood. Your senses are gently overpowered by him, a soft wash of Frankie covering you and settling what remains of your nerves. 

Every fear you had comes rushing back as he slips his fingertips under the hem of your shirt. You freeze before grabbing his wrist and placing a palm on his chest, pushing him away gently. “Shirt stays on and hands stay outside of it, okay? I’m sorry…” Your body tenses in anticipation of the rejection you know is coming. He’ll kick you out. Or disregard your wishes. 

Frankie’s hands find your cheeks, drawing your face up to look at him. “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” He kisses you gently, reassuringly. It hits you again that you trust this stranger you just met in a bar. You deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hitches his hands under your thighs and pulls them up around his waist, settling you against his very prominent arousal. You roll yourself against him and he groans into your mouth. His hands wrap tightly around your body and he carries you down the hallway. 

He lays you gently on the bed and immediately goes for the button of your jeans, making sure to stay clear of your shirt. He tosses your jeans and underwear on the floor and drops to his knees beside the bed. 

“Oh, Frankie, you don’t have to-” your sentence is cut off by the low moan erupting from your throat as Frankie pulls your legs over his broad shoulders and buries his face in your cunt. His hooked nose grinds against your clit as he licks into you. Your hands find purchase in his curls and you roll your hips into him, grinding on his face. Frankie eats it up… literally. He groans into your pussy and you feel it reverberate through your entire body. Your head is thrown back in absolute ecstasy as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it rhythmically. You clench around nothing, pleasure curling up in your core. “Please, fuck, don’t stop. So close,” you cry out. Your voice is desperate, wrecked, and your hips are thrusting involuntarily against his face. 

You come with a near pained shout, hands tightening in Frankie’s hair and pulling him into you even harder as you grind on his nose. Frankie licks a trail from your entrance up to your mound, then presses kisses all the way up your clothed stomach and chest. He nips at your jaw as he unbuttons his pants and clumsily shoves them off with one hand, like he can’t bear to take his mouth away from you. 

“Taste so fucking sweet, hermosa,” he rumbles in your ear. “Could eat you out all night, if you’d let me.” 

You think you would let him, if you couldn’t feel his hardness pressed against your thigh. “Another time, Frankie.” You push your thigh against him. “Fuck me, please.” 

Frankie doesn’t need to be told twice. He stands up and pulls you further to the edge of the bed. He looks down at you, unconsciously licking his lips. “Fucking gorgeous…” he says under his breath. You could say the same about him. Half his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat and half are standing wild from your fingers raking through them. His big brown eyes are wide, almost in awe. His upper half is wrapped in a tight white t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and strong chest. 

He grips his thick, uncut cock in his fist and lines it up with your entrance before grabbing your hips. He pulls your hips into him, splitting you wide open without moving his hips an inch. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so full in your fucking life. Your hands fly to his muscular forearms, hanging on for dear life as he sheathes himself inside your tight heat. “Holy fuck, Frankie.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” Frankie whispers as he bends to cover your body with his. He drags his cock out a couple of inches and rolls his hips in a fluid motion, sinking back into you and grinding against your clit on every stroke. Moans spill from your lips unchecked. You don’t care if you sound sexy or if the words you’re babbling make any sense because he feels so fucking good. 

Frankie sits up and wedges his knees under your thighs, kneeling on the edge of the bed. He grips your hips in his strong hands and easily pulls you into him, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your arms fly above your head, grasping onto the sheets. Your shirt rides up a little with the motion and you almost panic, but Frankie tangles his fingers into the fabric and holds the hem tight against your torso. Safe. You trust him.

Frankie grips you so hard you know you’ll bruise and slams his hips into yours, driving you closer and closer to coming. “You feel… so good, cariño. So. Fucking. Tight,” Frankie bites out between thrusts. You babble incoherently, the head of his cock is slamming into your cervix and it’s making you feel a little fuzzy around the edges. Nothing matters except Frankie’s cock buried inside you and the coil of pleasure building in your gut. He’s fucking you like a rag doll, now. Your body has gone boneless with the intensity of him inside you.

Your orgasm rips through you like a flame, burning you up from the inside out. You scream his name as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body goes taut with pleasure. Frankie steadily, brutally, fucks you through it. When your cunt finally stops convulsing around him, he drops your hips and leans over your limp, fucked out body. 

Frankie kisses you with a tenderness that seems at odds with the way he just fucked you, stuttering his hips into you one, two, three more times before pulling out and nestling his cock into the crease between your thigh and your torso. His cum splatters across your shirt in long spurts, coating you in his release. 

His forehead drops to yours and your heaving breaths mingle in the space between you. You meet his gaze and there’s something in his eyes… something like adoration. Affection. He shakes his head slightly and stands up. 

“I’ll get you a shirt to wear,” his voice comes out hoarse, rough with the after effects of his orgasm. He disappears into his closet and comes back with a big, long-sleeve t-shirt. You sit up slowly and take the shirt from him. 

“Thank you, Frankie,” you whisper. 

Frankie wakes up in his bed alone. His brow furrows in disappointment. He usually likes to make his hookups breakfast and drive them back to their car. He knows it’s a little weird, but it’s important to him that he takes care of you. He flops onto his side and catches a glimpse of a piece of  paper on his nightstand. It’s your number, your name signed with a heart and a note promising to return the shirt. 

Frankie smiles, feeling something dangerously close to hope for the first time in a long time.

A/N: This fic has been in the works for a while now. The initial idea was pitched in a chat with @beskarandblasters and she supported me every step of the way <3. Thanks to the Whorehomies for hyping me and this idea up! I appreciate y'all more than you'll ever know. And thanks to @str84pedro for the beta/grammar edit I love you!

Let me know if you want to be tagged <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @harriedandharassed, @jksprincess10, @fishingforpike, @dreamingofdaddydin, @sad-bitch-disorder

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Ep 17 part one

(Masterpost of all the rewatches) (Canary’s pinboard of original content)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Inaccessible

Wei Wuxian hides in a boat among the lotuses next to a pier in Lotus Pier, the second-most-literally-named home in the show, after The Burial Mounds. This pier has a railing that goes all the way around it, without any ladders or anything. Not to be ADA on main but this means if you can't Jedi jump, you're fucked.  

Hefeng Liquor

While Wei Wuxian waits and tries, not very successfully, to keep his shit together, he hears the guards talking about the local booze that they're going to drink at their murder victory party. We learn, in a desaturated flashback (that OP has done her best to resaturate), that this is lotus-infused wine invented by Wei Wuxian during happier days. 

He kicks the flashback off with his favorite activity, Unnecessarily Erotic Beverage Drinking. (gifset) I’ve slowed this gif down so we can all appreciate the unnecessariness. The way his hand caresses that leaf OMG

Hopefully he is not drinking lake water out of that leaf. Side note: How is it possible that Xiao Zhan doesn't have a drinking water endorsement deal? I had to resort to Zhu Yilong's brand of water for this gag. I figure if it's good enough to pour directly onto a lightning burn like they do in The Lost Tomb Reboot, it's good enough for a leaf hummer chastely drinking out of a leaf

(more behind the cut!)

In his memory, Jiang Cheng tells him to stop fucking around and come help with the basket of lotus pods. Wei Wuxian responds by grabbing one for himself and then sitting his ass down and not helping. Cause he’s a motherfucking P.I.M.P.

Emotional Rescue

Wen Ning arrives on the pier with Jiang Chang, to Wei Wuxian's extreme relief. Look how much emotion Xiao Zhan is able to convey even with half of his face hidden, my lord.

Wen Ning carries Jiang Cheng on his back, in an echo of other significant piggyback rides in Wei Wuxian's life.  

Wei Wuxian's relief is at war with his fear, seeing his brother in such bad shape. Remember, these are cultivators, who heal quickly and mostly don't get their asses beat this hard. The only time Wei Wuxian has been comatose was after the Xuanwu cave, and that was probably because of his prolonged contact with resentful energy/Yin iron.

Hibernating Zidian

Wen Ning gets ready for his first, but not his last, boat ride with an unconscious Yunmeng brother in it. He tells Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng is pretty fucked up but isn't dead.

Then he gives Zidian to him. Before we talk about Zidian, let's talk about BAMF Wen Ning.  Wen Ning is an awkward goofball. He’s also insanely competent at just about everything--wine-drugging, dude-smuggling, corpse retrieval, dog acupuncture, drug pushing. As well as shooting rocks out of the air and, later, beating zombie ass, and resisting mind control. . 

This is the foundation of their friendship; it’s not actually about Wei Wuxian being nice to the weird kid. He initially sought Wen Ning out for the same reason he sought out weird kid Lan Wangji--his martial skill. He accepts his weirdness and is protective of him because of his missing-spirit problem, but he did not befriend him out of altruism.

Wei Wuxian is so forgiving that he can smile fondly when looking at the weapon that whipped the shit out of him a couple of days ago.

Wei Wuxian puts Zidian down right next to Jiang Cheng's hand and...nothing happens. It doesn't recognize him or spark to life. This didn't seem meaningful when I watched it the first time, but rewatching...yikes. It KNOWS.

Wei Wuxian admits, with tears in his eyes, that there is nowhere safe for him to go with Jiang Cheng, and Wen Ning immediately offers care and shelter. Even though that is putting his own life at serious risk.

Life obligation is a common theme in CDramas. It’s often something a person chooses as a way of showing love. Guardian builds an eternal romance out of two people saving each other’s lives over and over.  But accepting the obligation is a choice (in fantasy dramas, if not in real life). Love and Redemption has a gloriously harsh sequence where a life is saved, and the save-ee cooly rejects the saver.

Every time Wen Ning saves Wei Wuxian, he cites that one time that Wei Wuxian saved him from the water demon. And Wei Wuxian cites this rescue right here when he throws everything away to save Wen Ning. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng doesn't acknowledge any debt to Wen Ning at all, only--grudgingly--to Wen Qing. And people are ok with that.

Basically all this is to say that I think Wen Ning leans into this life debt because he loves Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian leans into it because he loves him back. Non-romantically, I think...at least on Wei Wuxian’s part. YMMV.

They go to pick up Yanli from their Granny, telling her to go into hiding. She starts to cry, not knowing how she'll manage on her own. Wei Wuxian tells her that they will come back, as Wen Ning looks super unsure about that.

Of course Wei Wuxian can't know, at this point, whether they will come back. Wei Wuxian always wants to make everybody feel better, and sometimes you really can't make someone feel better except by lying. He compulsively says shit that he thinks people want to hear, almost as if he was beaten frequently and arbitrarily as a child.

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational boat ride industry, as he rows the Yunmeng trio through some amazingly beautiful scenery.

Core Melting Time

Meanwhile, back at Lotus Pier The Yunmeng Supervisory Office, Wen Chao is hung over, Wen Chao is angry, Yawn

For some reason, Wang Lingjiao has suddenly decided to talk to Wen Chao in the most cloying and annoying way possible. 

Also, the fact that she still addresses him as Gongzi when she is totally fucking him is kind of great. This is like those fics where Elizabeth Bennet calls Mr. Darcy "Mr. Darcy" even when they're married and hitting it. 

Wen Zhuliu demonstrates why he's called Core-Melting Hand, by punishing the wine guard. He's able to melt a guy's core by grabbing him by the throat, and also picks him up, Darth Vader style, for extra meltyness.

All that stuff I said last time about Wen Zhuliu feeling ambivalent about being a villian...yeah, he seems to have gotten that right out of his system. 

Chilling in Yiling

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational carriage ride industry.  Wei Wuxian, after presumably several hours in the cart, decides that now is a good time to get curious about where they are going. 

Here we start to see a new side of Wei Wuxian.  Before this he was carefree, other than specific worries about his friends. He confronted danger with lightness and humor, or with temporary fear, that he let go of once the danger passed. Now, after all the deaths and seeing Jiang Cheng so injured, he's twitchy, anxious, and angry.

Very, very angry.

When he realizes that Wen Ning has brought them to the Yiling supervisory office, he goes off, demanding to know whose home this was before the Wens took it and grabbing Wen Ning and shoving him into a decorative...decoration.  He thinks Wen Ning brought them here to harm them. 

I wouldn't have thought such a pretty dude could be so menacing, but holy crap.

The way he's confronting Wen Ning here is not his normal style. He's not trying to provoke a bigger fight like he usually does; he's not trying to create distance, the way Jiang Cheng does. He's very intimate, getting right in his face and maintaining eye contact. He trusted Wen Ning and feels personally betrayed.  

Shy little Wen Ning is remarkably calm when confronted like this. Wen Ning really isn’t afraid of anything, despite his general air of nervousness. (Full gifset of Angry WWX over here.) 

He calmly and kindly explains the situation. He doesn't appeal to Wei Wuxian's trust, saying "oh I would never;" he appeals to his logic, which gets through to him. 

Wen Qing comes out and the guards start banging on the door and Wei Wuxian flips out again, grabbing a sword and pointing it at Wen Qing as she decides what to do.  Wen Qing seems unruffled by Wei Wuxian's sword pointing, and we see her weighing up the situation.

She makes her decision, sending the guards away and deciding to help the fugitives, officially joining the Clear Conscience Club. She could probably get Wen Ning out of trouble by turning them in, but she opts to put personal loyalty and her belief in her own ideals ahead of her family's safety.

Wei Wuxian is not ok. He’s just not ok. He tries to act like it after they get settled in with Wen Qing, but he's not, and I think that plays into his next several choices. 

Next comes a whole sequence of Jiang Cheng being unconscious with pins in his head--ow--while Wei Wuxian twitchily tends to him. 

This sequence is kind of unfair to Jiang Yanli. What matters to the story here is Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship, so that’s the focus of these scenes. But really, there is no way Jiang Yanli would not be at Jiang Cheng's side unless she was literally unconscious herself. Let's assume Wen Qing stuck a needle in her to make her rest while she has a fever. Shippers should also feel free to assume that Wen Qing spent hours at her bedside, tenderly wiping her forehead and holding her hand as she recovered. In his sleep, while Wei Wuxian sits by his side, Jiang Cheng calls for his sister, mother, and father, but not for his brother. Ouch.  

Let's pause to appreciate Wei Wuxian's new outfit, which is the sort of getup most people in this society probably imagine Yiling Laozu wearing, rather than the low-key homespun stuff he actually spends his Yiling year in. This robe has fancy shoulders, shiny material, touches of Jiang purple, strange red hoody strings, and a fuckin' CAPE. He didn't bring any luggage with him from Lotus Pier, although he's still got his Yin Turtle Sword hidden in a bag of holding. So the most likely explanation is that Wen Ning hooked him up with this lewk. "Wei Wuxian is a nice person. He should have a magnificent cape."

Wen Wing and Wei Wuxian take a breather to stand on the porch and work out what their status is with each other, like a couple of fucking adults, which is amazing. Basically Wei Wuxian is ready to forget earlier Wen shenanigans, but is going to avenge Lotus Pier. 

Wen Qing isn't enthusiastic about that but doesn't argue, just asking, mostly rhetorically, if he plans to kill her too. He's uncomfortable considering that; the role of avenger isn't one that's comfortable for him, although he turns out to be extremely good at it. He does not, of course, plan to kill her too. In a few months, imprisoned in a Wen dungeon, she will be the only Wen left alive after Wei Wuxian 1.5(No-Gold Edition) and Chenqing come to visit.

Jiang Cheng finally wakes up, and the first thing he does is to test out his spiritual power by hitting Wei Wuxian as hard as he can. 

DUDE.

Look at Wei Wuxian's face, as he goes from happy, to shocked and hurt, to laughing it off. It's exactly like when Jiang Cheng shoved him in the Rock Lady temple. Has Wei Wuxian spent all of his years with Jiang Cheng going from affection, to hurt feelings, to pretending it's fine? God, I think he probably has.

This episode raises a question that will come up again later, but never be answered. That question is, what the fuck are these weird footies and why the fuck does Jiang Cheng wear them to bed?

Jiang Cheng reveals that his golden core is gone, that he can't cultivate any more, which means he can't avenge his parents or achieve any ambitions in life. Nobody has apparently given any thought to why Wen Zhuliu is called "Core-Melting Hand" before this, which is hilarious, frankly. If I fought with a guy called, for example, Brain-Eating Mouth, I think I would make certain assumptions about him and what he planned to do with my brain.

Something interesting is happening in this moment, because as he comes fully back to consciousness, Jiang Cheng pours out all of his trauma and horror to his brother, telling him about the core melting and practically wailing about his feelings over it all. And his brother understands, and ultimately finds a way to help him. What does Wei Wuxian do after his own trauma? Keeps it secret, so nobody finds a way to help him, although many people try to. So Jiang Cheng is, in this way at least...emotionally healthier than Wei Wuxian? That's unexpected.

Jiang Cheng is super upset and is mad at eternal scapegoat Wei Wuxian for saving him. Jiang Cheng would rather be dead than be a regular person. Whereas Wei Wuxian, faced with the same problem, is like, *shrug* I’ll adapt. These are both valid emotional responses to suddenly becoming disabled. Losing a golden core is definitely a disability, in this environment; it's not just about magic sword fights. Jiang Cheng's home is designed for people who can fly; Lan Wangji's home is designed for people who don't feel cold, and Wen Central is made of actual lava, for example. 

Jiang Cheng is already struggling with a lot of difficulties. He was raised by shitty parents, he's got anger management issues, he has a crushing weight of responsibility. And now he's also lived through the deaths of most of the people who matter to him. If sword cultivation is the one thing that gives him joy in life (ok one of two things, obviously fashion also gives him joy because he WORKS it), he can't reasonably be expected to rally when it's taken away.  

Oh, honey. Oh, baby boy. 

Wen Qing picks the worst moment to come in and tries to tend to Jiang Cheng, who starts off being devastated that the girl he likes is seeing the wreck he's become, and then moves along to helpless rage when he remembers that she's a Wen, and he screams at her to get out.  

Jiang Cheng is not able to put personal loyalty ahead of clan loyalty like Wei Wuxian is. Partly this is his nature, and partly it's his role as the lineal descendant of the clan leader. As a firstborn son of a gentry family, his destiny as clan leader is in his blood, and so is his responsibility to the clan. When Wei Wuxian praises Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen for caring less about bloodlines than about shared ambition, he is speaking from the position of someone who's bloodline ain't shit. Jiang Cheng will never be able to share that perspective.

Next: More of this excruciating episode!

Writing prompt: The Day I Discovered I Could Melt Your Fucking Core, by Wen Zhuliu Drabble prompt: Why I Wear Socks to Bed, by Jiang Cheng

[nanoland]

new chapter (supernatural fic)

(Also on AO3.) 

Clean Hands, part 4 

Crowley/Dean Winchester/Castiel 

Warning: Demon deals, violence, mention of abuse and torture. Also: Crowley is an abuse + addiction survivor and also a cold-hearted arsehole with very little respect or empathy for abuse + addiction survivors, and this story is written from his POV. 

0 

What was there to be done when you were enamoured of a man who hit you?

Leave him! the whole world cried back in one voice.

Which was a bit like telling someone trapped in a burning car to get out of the car. Yes. Quite. Thank you. Fully agree. But what if, for a moment, you assumed I wasn’t as stupid as a fucking dog?

That, incidentally, was one of a handful of ways the world had worsened since Crowley last drew breath.

Back in the fourteenth century, the women in the marketplace had noted his black eye and torn dress with immediate understanding. Instead of insisting he pack his bags and walk out of the house belonging to his wealthy shoemaker husband, the father of his child, the man on whom his safety and good reputation and continued ability to eat depended, the man he, for some fucking reason, still loved, they’d actually tried to help.

Sybil had given him willow bark for the pain. Rose had engaged him in long, rambling conversations, stretching the minutes until he had to return home. Jane had walked across the village and rapped on his door every evening she could, always armed with solid excuses, just when the bastard was well and truly in his cups and looking for something to damage.

If ever analytical minds were to try to account for Crowley’s misanthropy and sadism, they couldn’t honestly conclude that either was due to his never experiencing true, heartfelt human kindness.

Yes, Sybil and Rose and Jane had all thought he was a woman and addressed him accordingly, and it had hurt. But that wasn’t their fault. He’d not had the courage to tell them otherwise.

Crowley didn’t regret much. Regret, in this game, was a slow-killing poison.

Still, he did occasionally wonder how things might have turned out if he’d accepted Jane’s invitation and fled with her to London that one warm night, rather than hanging in for years until he finally snapped and beat his husband’s skull into tooth-sized pieces with an iron kettle.

Returning to the present:

As Crowley watched Dean’s fist barrel towards his face, and not for the first time, he reviewed the pros and cons of incinerating him with hellfire.

When fist and nose were one millionth of an inch apart, he teleported across the room.

“Squirrel,” he sighed, “this has nothing to do with you.”

Dean charged and took another swing at him. “Fuck you! He worked so hard! Clean for four years, you piece of shit!”

This time, Crowley reappeared sitting on top of the dead man’s wardrobe, where Dean couldn’t reach him. “Good for him. His family and friends won’t remember him as the thieving, lying wretch he was ten years ago when he sold his soul for a pound of meth. They’ll probably give him a nice funeral.”

“Why couldn’t you make an exception? Just once?”

“That’s not how this works, Dean! It wasn’t even my deal! The contract is in the hands of a relatively inexperienced subordinate and honestly, I’m glad that she pulled it off. She’s got potential. This is her first real win. It’ll increase her standing in Hell and make her more powerful, which will be useful because some older demons have taken to bullying h-…”

“I don’t give a damn about your minions,” he snarled, picking up a lamp sprinkled with blood and throwing it at him. Crowley ducked. “Every last one of you can take an angel blade to the face, for all I care. You’re fucking parasites.”

Evenly, Crowley replied, “Yes. We are. You know that. You’ve always known that. Why are you having a fit about it now? Good people get dragged to Hell all the time.”

Dean stared down at what remained of Martin Booke, now that the hellhounds had left. “He worked so hard. Christ. You could have made an exception. He came to us and I swore I’d help him out.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have cocking well done that, should you?” Crowley cried, throwing up his hands.

Eyes wet, Dean sneered at him. “Parasite. Get out of my sight before I wring your evil neck.”

Crowley left.

Upon arriving back in Hell, he went to the Admissions Department.

The soul of Martin Booke was sitting in one of the cheap blue plastic chairs, knees drawn up to his chest. Probably still reeling from the trauma of the hounds ripping his throat out, though no damage was evident on his form now.

“Mr Booke,” Crowley said, sauntering up with his hands in his pockets. “Could you come with me, please?”

A door appeared in the nearest wall and swung open silently.

Once they were both standing inside Crowley’s office, it swung shut and dissolved into nothingness.

Moving to his liquor cabinet, Crowley said, “I hear you’re a Harvard man.”

“Um… y-yeah. Yes. I was.” Thin voice. Midwestern accent.

“Promising career ahead of you before things – ah – went awry.”

Booke swallowed. “Tom. First boyfriend. Got me into meth. Got me into a lot of stuff. I figured it was okay because we were gonna be together forever and as long as I had him, I’d be fine. Then he went and died and I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Smiling thinly, Crowley said, “Isn’t romance grand? As it happens, you may still get your happily ever after. Thomas Abbott is currently waiting in the eternal queue – which, ordinarily, is where you’d be headed.”

“Yeah. Dean told me. Although… um…”

“You have a question? Spit it out. Cowards bore me.”

“Dean said that when you sell your soul, you go to Hell and demons torture you until you become a demon. But he also told me about the queue thing. So that’s confusing. I mean, queuing sucks but it’s not torture.”

Crowley poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down behind his desk. “Clever boy. Yes; when I became King of Hell, I restructured things. Most of you end up in the queue. The hot knives and whips are a speciality service and, as such, are reserved for our elite clientele. The pedos and Nazis and so forth – and, of course, anyone who pisses me off too much. As for the process of becoming a demon; that doesn’t actually require torture. I know! Surprised me too! We always thought it did, back when Lilith was in charge. Then I started running some tests and it turns out that becoming a demon is a bit like catching a virus; it’ll happen to anyone who hangs around other demons long enough. Everyone in the queue will have black eyes by the end of their first century.”

Booke took off his glasses and nervously rubbed them on his sleeve. “You said that ‘ordinarily’ I’d go to the queue. So am I an – uh – ‘elite client’?”

“Hah! No. Your little life was staggeringly boring and barely impacted anyone in ways either negative or positive. No, the reason you’re here is Harvard. See, I had a snoop and it seems that before you dropped out, you were getting bloody good grades.”

A wistful smile. “I guess. Had big dreams, once.”

Sipping his bourbon, Crowley said, “On track for a Master’s in aeronautical engineering, I believe.”

“Yep. I wanted to work for NASA.”

“Cards on the table, Booke: I might have a job for you. There is, at present, space in one or two of our departments for a man with your talents. But first I need to ask a question.”

He cocked his head. “Um. Sure? Anything’s better than what I was expecting. Shoot.”

“Do you know how to crash a spaceship?”

[orangepeelers]

it’s you

my boys go to the beach and are a little very slow on picking up hints

***

Remus awoke to a text from Sirius.

As he saw his name on the screen, excitement bloomed in his stomach and made his toes curl. He felt elated for a brief moment, before forcing himself to punch the feeling down into the recesses of his mind. He couldn’t feel that way about Sirius. He wouldn’t feel that way about Sirius. He’s just your friend, he reminded himself. 

His heart didn’t really get the memo.

Remus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced over at Peter’s sleeping form. The four of them were staying at the Potters’ beach house, spending the hottest days of the summer eating ice cream on the boardwalk and swimming in the ocean. He hated that despite the fact that Sirius was in the room next door with James, a text from him could still have such an effect. 

He unlocked his phone to read the text, anxiety and excitement mingling in his chest. Hey Moons. I woke up a little early today. Proud of me?

Remus grinned and rolled his eyes. Sure I am Pads. Of the four of them, Remus was the only early riser, a fact which he never let them forget. He found Sirius’ gesture endearing, if a little strange. Waking up early was so out of character for him. 

His legs jiggled nervously as he awaited a response. He couldn’t help but wonder whether his waking up early was for a specific reason. Running through his head in an attempt to tamp down his overactive imagination was a constant stream of shutupshutupshutupshutupshut-

Wanna go for a run on the beach?

Remus’ fingers moved of their own accord. Sure. Breakfast at 3 Broomsticks after?

Of course!! See u in like 2 seconds. Love u Moons 

At the last three words, Remus’ heart did a little skip rope routine. He knew it was just Sirius being Sirius, but the words still found the nooks and crannies of his brain and filled him with warmth. They stoked the fire of false hope he had burning in his mind, like vodka on their weekly beach bonfires.

He got dressed quickly, overthinking between his choice of old t shirts before settling on one from some event his parents had organized. Taking care not to wake Peter, he crept to the door and stepped into the hall, easing it shut. Sirius was already in the living room, long hair tied up into a ponytail. Black strands framed his face, bouncing against his cheekbones as he turned to look at Remus.

He flashed the grin that Remus had pictured so many times while trying to fall asleep. “Moons! Ready for our run?”

Remus smiled back. “Shocked that you have this much energy this early.”

Sirius shrugged, still smiling. “I was just in a mood today. C’mon!”

The two walked out the door into the oppressive humidity of the east coast. The orderly streets full of pastel-colored beach houses were quiet in the early morning, the people inside still sleeping off the previous day of swimming and sunbathing. Sirius immediately stripped his shirt off, tucking it into his waistband.

“Fuck, it’s hot.”

Remus pretended to shake his head in disapproval, but his eyes were tracing the sloping lines of the other boy’s biceps, wondering how it would feel to wrap his hands around them. He swallowed the thought before also stripping his shirt. Sirius grinned cockily.

“And I thought you were judging me.”

Remus mock-bowed. “Why, never!” 

They started running, following the unpopulated streets to the beach. It wasn’t too far, and when they got there the sandy plains were mostly empty except for a few people walking. A bubble of laughter and conversation surrounded them, disrupting the early morning silence. They ran along the beach, listening to the waves lap against the shore as they sun came up. By the time they got to the Three Broomsticks, they were soaked in sweat and panting hard.

Sirius pushed his hair off of his forehead and mopped the sweat with his t shirt. “Hell, I’m never waking up early again.”

Remus laughed. “Hey, what about Belgian waffles?”

Sirius considered the waffles for a moment. “Hmm... You do make a very valid point. Maybe I’ll do it once more. As a treat for you, of course.”

They laughed before slipping their shirts on and going inside. The Three Broomsticks was Remus’ favorite restaurant on the boardwalk. The inside was quaint, with blue-checked tablecloths and pictures of patrons and vintage posters lining the walls. Natural light streamed in through the big windows facing the beach as a few other early customers ate and chatted. The brunch rush hadn’t started yet, so they were able to get a table close to the big windows.

Remus studied the boy sitting across from him. His eyes were gray and studious as he read the menu, with a hint of mischievous humor, like he might order blue eggs and burst into laughter before the waiter could say anything. Dark hair fell across his face before he pushed it back, still reading through the list of pancake varieties. 

Sirius glanced up before Remus could look away. “Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something in my teeth?”

Remus just smiled, hoping the flush of embarrassment would be written off as a result of their run. “Just wondering why you’re reading this more intently than anything else I’ve ever seen you look at.”

“Hey, I take my breakfast very seriously, Moons.” He pointed a finger at him, pretending to be stern. “And you should too. It’s an important part of the growing boy’s regimen.”

“Okay, okay.” Remus put his hands up in surrender. “But I know you’re just going to order what you always do.”

“I also like routine, Moons.” Sirius said, shaking his finger before returning to the menu.

A waiter walked over and introduced himself before taking their orders. 

Sirius pretended to think. “I think I’ll have... Chocolate chip Belgian waffles with strawberries and whipped cream.”

Remus shook his head at him. “I’ll have the same.” See, told you so, he mouthed. Sirius just rolled his eyes and smiled. 

The waiter took their menus and walked away. Sirius turned his full attention to Remus. “So, Rem. Lily tells me you have a little summer romance up your sleeve.”

Remus’ heart beat double-time. He’d confessed his crush to Lily, because he just had to tell somebody and he trusted her to keep her mouth shut. Technically, he supposed, she hadn’t told Sirius, but his legs bounced nervously like his deepest secret had been discovered.

Remus laughed awkwardly. “Well, I guess you could say that.”

Sirius cast an analytical look before sinking back into his chair. For a moment, Remus swore disappointment flickered across his face. Impossible, he reminded himself. Silence hung in the air thickly.

“Well, not quite a romance. More like useless pining.” He amended. He met Sirius’ gray eyes, and for once, they were unreadable as he studied him across the table. 

“Well, I think anyone would be lucky to have you.” Sirius said sincerely. “You should tell them. Who knows? They might feel the same, and you can have an actual summer romance.”

Remus smiled, a little sadly. “Yeah. Maybe.” He studied the tablecloth intently, a heavy layer of quiet laced with tension settling over them. They each pretended to be very interested in the cloth napkins.

Sirius cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, trying to break the tension. Thankfully, their waiter arrived with two plates stacked with thick waffles and glasses of fresh, bright orange juice. The arrival of food dispersed some of the binding silence and conversation flowed again as they dug into the hot, crispy-yet-soft waffles. 

They finished up their meal and paid the bill, setting out to walk back to the house. It was about nine, which was still relatively early in beach time. A few people were laying out towels and umbrellas on the beach. The sun was properly up, beating its hot rays down on the morning and dispersing the dew. Sea breeze carried the scent of salt as it ruffled their hair and scattered their laughter. 

As they got onto the more quiet streets, their conversation turned, once again, to talk of summer romances.

Why does he keep bringing this up? Remus thought. The last thing he needed was a reminder that the person he wanted most in the world was unattainable. The constant thought hung about his head like vines in a jungle, and he didn’t want to see those words personified as Sirius rambled on.

“I was really hoping this summer would finally be the one where I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind.” Sirius’ clear voice led Remus back to their conversation. 

A lump formed in Remus’ throat as he nodded. “Me too, honestly.”

They walked side-by-side, spilling out a little onto the lawns of the houses. Remus saw Sirius glance over, almost nervously, as he continued. “Yeah, I’ve sort of had this major crush on someone for a while. But I’ve never been able to tell them.”

Remus laughed, a little bitterly. How ironic that they were each in the same situation, yet Remus knew that Sirius could get anyone he wanted. He probably hadn’t told this mystery person because he wanted to see how long he could drag it out. Not that Sirius was cruel, but he couldn’t see any situation in which he simply couldn’t tell somebody he liked them. It just didn’t make sense. 

“Well, I think you should tell them.”

“Yeah?”

Remus swallowed thickly. What matters is that he’s happy, he reminded himself. All the useless pining in the world didn’t give him a right to impede Sirius’ happiness, or decide who he dated. “Well, if you’ve liked them for a while, then either they’ve figured it out or they’re too stupid to realize. Either way it would be a push in the right direction. And, you’re Sirius fucking Black.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus pushed him lightly and smiled. “You know what it means, you egoistic dolt. Like you told me, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Sirius smiled faintly, as if adding Remus’ words to a mental list. They continued walking until they were about a block from the Potters’. By now, Peter and James were probably being woken up by Mrs. Potter opening curtains and humming. Remus smiled to himself at the thought. He looked over at Sirius, who was deep in thought, brow furrowed. He wished he could see what the other boy was thinking.

All of a sudden, Sirius stopped. He grabbed Remus by the hand and pulled him so they were facing each other. Their chests were bare inches from each other, which Remus was hyper aware of as he looked down into his face. He was a few inches taller than Sirius, and being so close made that feel like a few feet. He could feel his soft breath as they looked into each other’s faces.

Sirius’ gaze was intense as he took a deep breath. He was still holding onto Remus’ hand and he gave it a subconscious squeeze, as if trying to gather confidence. They stood like that for several seconds until either of them remembered to talk.

“What-”

“Rem, I-”

They laughed a little breathlessly. Remus seriously thought that his heart would explode. All he wanted was to close the distance between them. But he restrained himself and settled for saying, “You first.”

Sirius hesitated a moment, before resolve hardened in his eyes. “It’s you.”

“What?”

“You’re the summer romance person. You’re the person I’ve liked for a while.”

Remus blinked. The words floated around his head before he was able to string them together. All he could do was stare back at Sirius, unable to believe what he was hearing. He felt like a fish gasping on a dry dock, unable to suck in air to form words. “I- um, I-”

Sirius stared back, expression alert as Remus floundered for words. Finally, he was able to peel the letters from his throat and force the sentence out. “It’s you too.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, as the realization of their words settled around them like snow. Slowly, Sirius placed his hands on Remus shoulders, the around his neck, fingers tracing the muscles there gently. His hands shook Remus out of his stupor and he pulled Sirius closer, hands on his waist.

Then Sirius kissed him.

The kiss was everything a kiss should be. Deep in his stomach, Remus felt the same excitement from earlier in the morning return a hundredfold. Sirius’ mouth was soft and sweet from the waffles. They were so close, bodies pressed together despite the summer heat. He felt like a body of stars, constellations blooming on his skin wherever Sirius touched him. Adrenaline raced through his body as Sirius pulled back to look at him.

He smiled, softer than Remus had seen him before, a smile just for him. “I’d say this is my summer.”

Remus smiled back, hands intertwining behind his waist. “I’d say so too.”

[neohighwayv]

Again and again

Characters: NCT / NCT DREAM Jeno x You

Genre: fluff, romance

Word count: 2.7k

Description: “I think it’s great that you have a great sex life but I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to put a hole in my wall whilst doing it.”

Author’s note: The prompt may look misleading but I promise – there is no smut in this story.

Warnings: Implied suggestive content, mild cursing

-----

I’m going insane. Please SHUT UP!!!

Ripping your headphones out of your ear, you sat up in your bed fast, whipping your head around to glare at the wall behind you. The sudden movement made your vision swim from the sudden rush of blood to your head as you slammed your fists down hard. Your innocent Samoy soft toy by your side took the brunt of your force, his beaded eyes almost falling out from the impact. Snapping your head to your bedside quickly, you found your notebook laying there neatly – the perfect weapon for such a situation. You snatched it up from your bedside before using it to pound at the wall behind you viciously, the spine of the book bending at an extreme angle afterwards, some pages crumpled from your iron grip.

Your neighbour seems to have heard you – for the sound of the bed squeaking stopped momentarily and your walls stop shaking. All was peaceful and silent for a short while, and you breathed a sigh of re–

Only to exhale deeply and sigh again when the screams and moans started to fill your ears, coupled with the familiar sound of the bed squeaking. Your walls began to shake – this time more violently – the tremors of your bed making your stuffed toy fall to the ground.

You slump back down onto your bed in defeat, ruffling your hair as you let out a strangled scream tear your throat.

Making a silent promise to deal with your inconsiderate neighbour tomorrow, you tried to fall back asleep, blasting the music one notch higher in hopes of draining out the noise that didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.

---

Three short raps on the door.

That was what you did when you went to confront your neighbour, instead of banging down the door and storming in like you envisioned yourself to. The door opened slightly by a crack and you caught a glimpse of blonde hair just before the door swung open fully to reveal the owner of the blonde hair.

The first thing that stood out to you was how pale the young male looked. He had a head of white blonde hair sitting atop of his equally pale face, making him look like Casper the friendly ghost. The wide eyes that stared back at yours initially soon melted into twinkling crescents that regarded you kindly, his pink lips pulling back into a sweet smile that showed off his rows of pearly whites. Now, he looked like a Samoyed, with his white hair serving to enhance the resemblance.

On normal days, you might have stopped to appreciate such a fine young man – but – life had been anything but normal for the past few weeks, especially with the noise level that he was creating at ungodly hours of the night (or day.) Hence, you were not in the mood to ogle at your handsome neighbour, and you simply wanted to tell him off so that he would get the clear hint this time round.

You opened your mouth to say something to the male, but you quickly closed it, gulping thickly afterwards as you were completely unsure of how to put into words what you wanted to say to him. Said male in front of you could clearly see your discomfort from your body language – you were mumming your lips together, your knuckles turning white from your hard grip on your bag strap. Wanting to ease your nervousness, he decided to start the conversation first.

“Hi, is there anything I can help you with…?”

How does one talk about…that…topic to a complete stranger?

You were still angry at him for interrupting your sleep, but the thought of having to breach such an intimate topic to a stranger still was very awkward to you. Your face and neck burst into a bright shade of red as last night’s scene played in your mind, his breathy moans suddenly filling your ears.

Why are you thinking of that Y/N! GET A GRIP!!!

Watching as you engaged in an internal battle with yourself, the male became more worried for you, prompting him to question you once more.

“Miss, are you alright? You look pale, maybe – ”

Hearing his voice snapped you back to your senses and that was when your brain’s word filter suddenly malfunctioned at the critical moment, the words spewing out of your lips before you could hold them back.

“Look here, sir, I’ll get straight to the point. I think it’s great that you’re having a great sex life, but I would appreciate if you wouldn’t put a hole in my wall whilst doing it. While you’re at it, I’d appreciate if you could keep your volume down – or if you can’t – make your room soundproof? Your moans are just keeping me up all night and distracting me from my studies.”

You immediately inhaled deeply once you were done, having made your entire speech in a single breath. You made the mistake of glancing over to the blonde and you jumped back in shock when you saw his facial expression, your hands flying to your chest as you let out a small yelp.

The smiling blonde now looked absolutely petrified – and for a moment – you thought you were staring at a statue. Upon hearing your words, the blonde became frozen stiff, his eyes that were blown wide now stared at you, unmoving, as his pale lips were set in a thin line. Then, the most bizarre thing happened. Starting from the base of his neck, red started to rise up his face, covering every inch of his face. His ears, in particular, appear to be burning red and you had half the mind to actually want to ask him if his ears hurt from – what you assumed – must be searing pain.

However, you didn’t get to ask him your question as both of you turned your attention to the new arrival at the scene, heads snapping to the figure behind him. The new boy regarded both of you from under hooded eyelids, his blonde hair with a strip of blue flopping down like a mop on his head. He wore a pout on his face, his lips looking puffy due to the fact that he looked like he just woke up.

“Jeno-ah, who’s this?”

His question ends with a yawn as he raised his hands above his head to stretch – and that’s when both of you see it.

The action exposed his chest, the top three unbuttoned buttons enhancing the view both you and Jeno had. That’s when you see the evidence of last night’s activities – the purple and blue hickeys littering the expense of his chest, right down to his naval just above the waistband of his pants. Both your eyes grow wide at the sight and everything that happens next happens so quickly that you wonder if the events actually transpired, or it was just a figment of your imagination.

Jeno comes to his sense first, lunging at his friend before slamming the door shut with his foot. From your spot on the opposite side of the wall, you can hear the urgency behind Jeno’s hushed whispers, and the disparate difference in the other’s husky, slow voice.

“Ya Na Jaemin! Why did you come out looking like that!”

“What… it’s no big deal Jeno, you’ve seen me with less articles of clothing before.”

You think you hear Jeno sigh deeply, before the conversation continues again.

“We have a guest Jaemin, in case you didn’t realise.”

“I didn’t know until I came out and saw you by the door, can’t blame me man.”

“Ok that doesn’t matter now, just go change into something more decent or at least button up your shirt next time.”

“Jeno, it is buttoned.”

“Button it up FULLY then. Now go.”

“Awww, sending me away already? But ok I’ll go if you answer my question.”

“Na Jaemin, do not ask – ”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT NOW, GO GET CHANGED!”

You hear Jaemin whine as the sound of his footsteps get further away, before the door is flung open again to reveal a nervous Jeno.

“Hi, I’m terribly sorry about that incident just now. About last night… I’ll… remind him again so… he’ll… keep it down the next time. I’m very sorry about that and I promise it won’t happen again.”

He gives you a bow to convey his sincerest apologies and you hastily mirror it, before the door closes shut in your face again, the sound of running footsteps before a howl of pain travels through the door to reach you.

You stood at your spot unmoving for the next few minutes, trying to process everything that just happened in your mind. After your confused brain was finally able to put together each piece, you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your loud gasp – for it finally dawned upon you that you had made a grievous mistake.

I just blamed the wrong person.

Fuck.

---

It didn’t help that you kept seeing the blonde around your neighbourhood – Jeno – as you now know him by. It was inevitable considering how both of you lived in the same neighbourhood but you still cursed your terrible luck.

The first time you saw him, you were walking home from the local bread store which was located right beside the gym. Jeno was walking out after having just finished his power lifting session, his head bent down low over his phone screen. You, on the other hand, were counting the change in your hand as you tried to get a proper hold on the bag full of bread. Neither of you were watching where you were going and a collision was inevitable. The impact sent your bread flying along the pavement and Jeno immediately bent down to help you pick it up.

You profusely apologised as the mystery male helped you gather your stray breads, you quickly bending down to aid the process.

“I’m so sorry about that, I should have – ”

“It’s alright, are you hurt?”

Why does this voice sound so familiar…?

Both of you turned to look at the other party right at the right moment and you were sure you must have looked like a fool in front of him because you let out a squeak as your eyes widened to twice their size.

Of all people, why did it have to be you again, you damned Samoyed!!!

Jeno, on the contrary, remained calm as he handed you your bread back, having already put the incident that happened at his doorstep behind him. It was a natural assumption – he had reasoned with himself. He was just extremely understanding by nature – like the angel he was. He gave you a small smile as he handed you the bag with two hands, still awaiting your reply. What he didn’t expect was for you to awkwardly bow slightly after snatching the bag from him before you took down the length of the street, curving sharply to enter the lobby of the apartment.

Jeno watched all of this with a twinkle in his eye, his lips curling up into a playful smirk as he let out a light huff.

She’s adorable when she’s flustered.

That night as you lay down in bed replaying your encounter with Jeno, you slammed your pillow over your face as you tossed and turned in bed, wondering why you always manage to appear so stupid in front of the boy. First, the wrong accusations and second, the bread incident – but perhaps – what you refused to admit was that you were flustered because you thought he looked good in the muscle tee that showed off his well-defined muscles, more so than the fact that you kept embarrassing yourself in front of him.

---

The second time you saw him, it was… agonising… and frustrating. A hand had slipped through the crack of the metallic lift doors, the resulting clang giving you a fright. You press the button to hold the lift open as Jeno squeezes through the slit to stand beside you. You groan inwardly at your horrible luck once more, but you plaster your best customer service smile on your face. You miss it when Jeno smiles to himself as he watches your cute self, his eyes turning into beautiful crescents once again. The typically short elevator ride up to your floor seems excruciatingly slow today, and you tap your fingers against the back of your hand nervously, hoping that the lift would speed up. Meanwhile, Jeno is enjoying every second of this ride, glad that he got to spend some time in your presence. Yet the smile is wiped off his face when the doors open with a ting, the muffled moans of Jaemin reaching his ears. This time, it was Jeno’s turn to glance nervously at you, sure that you had also caught onto the same thing. He had promised you that he would rein in Jaemin, but it was not working out very well. Both of you padded over to your respective doors quietly, and Jeno kept his head down the entire way out of embarrassment. Both of you stalled outside your respective doors, glancing over at each other nervously.

Pointing to his door, Jeno tried to talk, but he ended up stuttering instead.

“I- I- I’m go- go- go- going to ask him to quieten down.”

For the first time, Jeno managed to see a smile on your face and he was absolutely star struck.

“I don’t think you should, lest you want to walk in and see something unpleasant.”

Jeno lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching his nape as he blushed furiously at what you were implying. You gave him a small smile before entering your apartment, leaving Jeno hanging at his doorstop.

Aish this Na Jaemin! Why must he always embarrass me in front of her!

---

The third time you saw Jeno – well – to be exact, it does not count as seeing him coincidentally for he was the one that actively sought you out. Despite the moans still coming from the other side of the wall at 10pm, you heard the unmistakable knock on your door, the heavier sound reaching your ears much better than the moans. A quick peep into the keyhole showed that your mystery visitor was Jeno, and you unlocked the door, wondering what business your neighbour possibly had with you at such an ungodly hour.

“Hi…” – was all Jeno breathed out when he saw you, still not knowing your name having never asked despite the many encounters you had with him.

What an idiot you are Lee Jeno.

You caught on immediately, filling in the details for him.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N.”

“Y/N, hi.”

“Yes…? Is there anything I can help you with…?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to study together? Since… you know…”

He jabbed a thumb in the direction of his home, and your lips form an O in understanding. You stood at your spot for a few moments, contemplating if you should accept the offer from your dashingly handsome neighbour.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to! I just thought that since we both need to study; we could go together… doubt we’ll get anything done with the noise level.”

His eye smile was on display again, and it was hard to say no to the adorable face. Besides, he had a point. Nothing had gone in despite poring over your notes for the past 2 hours, and you were so close to giving up until he knocked on your door.

“Give me 5 minutes, I’ll be right back. There’s a 24-hour café at the neighbouring street, we can head there.”

“O-O- Ok.”

Jeno stammered as you ran back to your room, completely not expecting for you to say yes.

But I don’t mind at all.

---

“This is much better.”

“It is.”

Glancing up from your notes briefly, you caught Jeno’s eyes before flashing him a small smile, one that he reciprocated.

“Hey Y/N…”

“Hmmm?”

“What if we did this more often?”

“Studying together?”, you said, as you pointed to the table.

“Sure, definitely would not mind a study buddy.”

You turned back to face your books, hiding your shy smile between the pages. Jeno, on the other hand, continued to look at you with his twinkling eyes, happy with your response.

If Jaemin’s noise level meant that he could keep seeing you again and again, he’ll gladly let Jaemin keep it up.

[h3l10tr0p3]

Headcanon: Deku, the Serial Shipper

Contains- Mentions of sexual activities, established relationship - Bakudeku; Crack pairings- TodoIna, JiroMomo, UraTsuyu, UraTenya, DenkiSero, Kirimina, platonic Kiribaku etc.

(Beware- Long post)

Jesus Christ, I just had this HC and now I gotta spill, otherwise I won't be able to sleep tonight. Here's another annoying Long Post for y'all)

Deku, as a Pro Hero and Katsuki's Duo Partner, has a pretty hectic life since the media are crazy bloodhounds, the villains are a pain in the ass, interacting with fans becomes exhausting at times, and the critics are demons wailing for his blood.

Yeah, very hectic. And on top of that, there's very little time to relax. Most of the days he sneaks some solace in the gym, if he can buy more time he likes to read and immerse himself in his notebooks and research. Fighting Katsuki to blow some steam is a last resort to shed off weeks of frustration and only reserved for off-days or desperate times - because something like that inevitably devolves into gratuitous rough sex or worse, day-long fuck-a-thon. Not that Deku doesn't enjoy it, he simply doesn't have the time to indulge and he knows Kacchan doesn't either, so they try to keep their hands off each other unless the occassion begs for much-needed violent release.

But sometimes, you just want instant relief. Sometimes Deku just wants to kick back and relax like a normal person, go on the internet, without everyone hounding him for a piece of his mind.

So he does.

Under Anonymity.

Et viola @allmight9000 comes alive on several media platforms including Tumblr and Twitter. At first, Deku masquerades around as a hardcore All Might fan fighting anyone who dares to diss the retired Symbol of Peace . But since his retirement, his popularity has gone cold, not many heated debates take place around him anymore and as sad as this makes Deku, he decides to discover new venues.

Now, Deku knows there's this dark void of fanfiction lurking on the net and there's no escape from it should he ever set foot into it. He is also aware of the dark things that beckon him from the sewers like Pennywise the Dancing Clown (eg. All Might/Endeavour, Hawks/Endeavour, All Might Bowl, All Might/ Hero Harem, All Might/Midnight, All Might/Aizawa/Present Mic and so on), things he should rightfully keep a safe distance from. But this is fucking Deku we are talking about- ofcourse he dares to dip his foot into the murk of fanfiction.

For science, he thinks, and takes the plunge.

It all goes downhill from there.

One day, Katsuki comes back from his shift to find Deku face-planted into the sofa, he hasn't eaten lunch, hasn't bathed and is claiming trauma, repeatedly insisting that he has sinned and he is going to hell for it, then he shakily holds up a 367k word fic of Villain Might/Endeavour. Katsuki has to slap him back to his senses. Later that night, Deku calls up Toshinori and asks him for forgiveness, when Toshinori asks him worriedly, 'For what?', Deku assures him he DOES NOT wanna know.

After obsessively going through various tropes and completing every Enemies to Lovers / Mutual Pining / Unrequited Love fic there is (and there is a lot, Deku hates himself every day for it), waiting torturous weeks for dead authors to rise from the ashes for a teeny tiny update, Deku finally gives up his small lake of unfulfilling All Might ships (because frankly it's hard to find a fic that suits his tastes and convincingly fleshes out a love story around a man who has pointedly avoided romance for the better part of his LIFE or a find a fic which is COMPLETE) and sets out into the sea of Ships.

Bad Idea.

Very VERY Bad Idea.

(We know it, he knows it. Katsuki is the only one who is blessedly oblivious because he chooses not to wade into Deku's mental shit and compromise his own sanity.)

Strangely, Deku has come to take an odd satisfaction of returning to fan mentality of shipping two people without restraints (rarely more than two)-it's simple, senseless, easy. It gives his head a break from all the overanalyzing it does and gives him a small dose of endorphins when he cant work out, eat out or fuck out the frustration. He was adverse to it first, since these are strangers trying to ship two random people (people he is friends with), and it was unsettling to find so many people shipping them when they've BARELY had any interaction in canon real life! What's the premise of shipping them at all? He just didn't find any allure to it back then. So he kept his reads under fluff and under mature ratings because he feels uncomfortable reading smut about his friends.

But Deku had a 'Oh my God they were ROOMMATES' moment when Jirou and Momo announce that they are dating to the U.A. Alumni, that too after reading a really fluffy Creati/Earphone Jack fic which accurately referenced their public sightings together and spun it into plot-points quite masterfully. ( the author did a real good job on it) And the most horrifying thing about the fic, Deku finds, is the fact that NO ONE, not even the AUTHOR knows how correct they were in their estimates! No one except Deku.

That realization shakes the foundations of Deku's beliefs and morality as he wonders how many fics out there , sfw or smut, requited or unrequited love, enemies to lovers or lovers to strangers, fluff or smut have come so so close to the truth, been so damn close - like an alternate course of their love-story? and WHY IS NO ONE GIVING IT MORE KUDOS?

This is how Deku ends up being the most irredeemable Shipper of the universe- with a mission in hand:

To curate proof of all valid ships and to supply aforesaid proof of it to the world (as subtly as he can of course, so as to not compromise his own identity or the privacy of the Shipped.)

He begins to scour through the net for paparazzi photos, indulges in gossip, pries out information of who is dating whom from his Hero contacts, authenticates it, creates folders and subfolders of photographic 'proof' (they are just teasers really) and whenever anyone writes a fic that comes anywhere close to the real thing he makes sure to tag them in his tumblr/twitter post with photos which basically pour gasoline over their fiery passion to continue dreaming and writing fics around those Ships. Like:

You wrote a fic of Fluffy Iron Fist x Real Steel? Here you go- an obscure pic of them leaving her apartment together

Uravity x Ingenium and Uravity x Froppy? A love triangle that could possibly end in heartbreak?!! Damn, sistah, who knows? (She's confused too, imho) So here you go- Uravity getting tipsy with Froppy and Uravity snuggling to Ingenium under the rain.

One-shot of Chargebolt x Cellophane getting frisky in an alley? Honey, I gotchu. Here's a pic of them arriving at a villain scene together with dishevelled clothes.

All Might x Endeavour Slow Burn? My dear friend- here's a picture of the Symbol of peace roasting marshmallows with Shouto on flaming Endeavour merch. Please don't make me block you.

All Might x Midnight? Here's a pic of my mom, me and my Dad AllMight. Midnight, Who binch?

Celsius (Shouto) x Gale Force Stripper AU? Oh, hey, look I'm totally that one lucky guy who was in the right place at the right time, okay? I dont know these guys personally, OKAY? Not. At. All. But I have some Opinions™ about your fic? and pics to support it. Just wanna show you that maybe...i mean...MAAYYYYYYBEEEE...the stripper is Galeforce, not Celsius? Yeah? Don't worry though, You're doing good. Love the slow build, keep up the good work!

Deku becomes a sensational fic-writer-enabler and often gives inspiration to writers who are looking to write for a new fandom. Deku's got their backs.

He sinks so deep into this Shipping business that one day Katsuki catches wind of it. It was becoming painful to keep ignoring Deku's descent into madness. Katsuki was okay with it as long as the nerd did his job well and fucked him even better (which Katsuki will never admit to enjoying, even at gun point. Pull the trigger, you coward). So, yeah, Katsuki could have accepted all of Deku's weird stalkerish behaviours (even if they weren't fixated on him all the time anymore and the 'Kacchan, sugoi!' comments had plummeted drastically....who needs the shitnerd to validate his worth, right?! Right...it didn't make him pissed AT ALL. because admitting that would mean he enjoyed it, WHICH HE DID NOT, MIND YOU)

What Katsuki couldn't accept was Deku accidentally using his official Hero twitter handle to post a very platonic (but in the eyes of rabid fans- borderline homoerotic) pictures of him and Eijirou and posted it as #Ground_Riot. The fucking flood of Zeku-haters and pro-GroundRioters had the comments section on FIRE. The post goes VIRAL.

Deku, fucking DEKU, the man who is secretly ENGAGED to him, is promoting GroundRiot like NO ONE's business and HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE DID WRONG.

Katsuki finds Deku happily puttering around their shared apartment completely oblivious to the PR hell that has been licking at his heels. He immediately attacks Deku's account and is completely gobsmacked. Lo and fucking behold- every fifth picture in his blog is fucking GROUND RIOT.

Not just that, apparently, THIS MAN, his fucking FIANCE, is not only a renowned peacemaker in inane Ship wars, but is hailed as a Soothsayer of Ships for always correctly prophecizing "Ships that will Sail into the fucking Sunset', he is basically some minor god in the Hero fandom who is extorting excitement out of fic writers and fans alike so that 'the crime of incomplete fics' can be eradicated once and for all. And Deku's fucking commited to it.

(perhaps more commited to Ground Riot than his own betrothal because there isn't A SINGLE POST of ZEKU on his blog)

There's even a post where he answers an ask from anonymous. The question: "Are you also anti-Zeku? I have never seen you post anything related to that ship. Is it because you think it won't Sail?" And Deku answers shortly how he isn't explicitly Anti-Zeku, but doesn't like the idea of reading fanfics of that ship. He clearly witholds his opinion if the ship will sail or not. Katsuki also finds the chat which started all this shit.

Chat-

Hey! @allmight9000. I wanted to write a GroundRiot fic? Could you give me some inspiration?

Aww, sure! It's my favourite Ship tbh. I love GroundRiot. I have a whole gigabyte of inspirations in my laptop. I'll send you some when I get back home, okay?

Yup!!! I am actually a hardcore Zeku fan. But recently my friends got me into Ground Riot and I am addicted!! But Zeku will always have a special place in my heart <3

I see. :)

Do you wanna try it out? I know you mentioned you don't like it. But I know some REALLY good fics.

No thank you ^_^ I make it a point to not read those fics. I just can't visualize it working, you know?

Oh...np. Each to their own. But I really hope one day you try reading some if you can?

I don't think so ...😅...uh...but..Any preferences for your inspiration though? or genre youre interested in?

Fluffff!!

Haha, okay! Look out for the new post on my twitter!

YASSS!! Love ya!

You too!

Katsuki sees red, he's about to flip his shit when he decides to give Deku one LAST fucking chance to explain WHY THE FUCK is he promoting Ground Riot when he should be shipping Zeku and demands of him if he really wants their Fucking Ship To Sail Or Not.

Deku gets defensive and says of course he does. Katsuki asks why he has been trying to push him onto Eijirou all this time if he wasnt serious about it. Deku doesnt want to answer. Then Katsuki gets fruatrated and asks WHY the fuck didnt he post Zeku.

"Because I don't want to support it"

"We are literally fucking engaged, you moron. What the FUCK do you mean you don't support it?!"

"I support Us, Kacchan! I just don't wanna support Zeku-shippers! Those two things are different!"

"WHy dont you wanna support them?! tHere is No Difference!"

"There is! I am not obligated to do anything for you. But if I admit to shipping Zeku out loud to the shippers, then I'm obligated to post pictures of us and I know that if I start posting that then my blog will literally be a flood of just Us all over!!"

"What is WRONG with that?!!"

"WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ENGAGED IN SECRET! NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW! you said it yourself! That you don't like the useless yapping of reporters about your love-life where it isn't their business!"

"YEAH? WELL FUCK THAT!"

And Katsuki whips out his phone, takes a selfie of french kissing the hell out of Deku and immediately posts in on his twitter. Deku has hardly reeled back from that intense kiss when he realizes what Katsuki has done and he practically explodes in shame.

"Kacchan!! Our secret!"

"Your fucking fault, Deku. If I have to deal with the shitty extras at all, it better be for the right Ship, you dumbass. I'll punt you straight to China if I hear Ground Riot from your mouth ever again...capiche?"

"But I like Ground Riot...It's a valid ship, Kacchan. You cant diss on it just like that. It has wonderful scope, and the fluff in this ship is AMAZING. I think I have a soft spot for Uke!GZ and Soft!GZ now... and it is a really mutually productive ship unlike- hrmff!", Katsuki shuts him up with a smack to his mouth and sheds his shirt.

"Shut your mouth and strip, shitnerd. I'll fuck the Ground Riot out of you. Also, let's make this fucking clear that if you mention ANYTHING that goes anywhere near Eijirou's dick,ass, balls or mouth", Katsuki shivers, "then I'll wreck your dick, ass, balls and mouth. Remember that. Now STRIP"

"But what about platonically? That's a solid ship, right? Right, Kacchan? Also It doesn't mention Eijirou's- fuck!!!"

Deku gets wrecked thoroughly.

(Let's observe one moment of silence for his Shipping ass 🙏)

(r.i.p. Deku)

Katsuki later asks him why Deku doesn't read Zeku fics either, cause pretending to not like it to weasel out of obligation is fine, but it doesn't explain why he refuses fo read any either.

"A fic, especially the ones that I like, always are these perfect little stories which always have a happy ending. Can't help it, I'm weak to it, Kacchan- it's why I read fics at all, you know? For the rush of happiness and feels! It's always written with the intention that it will be perfect! And it is. But it doesn't come close to the real thing. There can be fics out there that come really close to what we really have though - but I refuse to accept that any fic could be better than the imperfectly perfect things I have with you, Kacchan. No matter what anyone insists, what I have with you is perfect to me. You are perfect to me. And that's all that matters."

Katsuki calls him an incorrigible sap and turns away to hide a violent flush that turns him red like a stop sign.

Omake:

Katsuki's #Zeku goes Viral too. But at this point no one understands what is going on or WHY. Because GZ appears to be a Zeku shipper when Deku is a GroundRiot shipper. Confusion abounds. Zac Efron memes agonize over Both ships, Captain America Japan Civil War Memes make a comeback. And for some reason, Deku keeps posting Ground Riot afterwards too and everytime he does, the next day he is seen limping.

"Did you have a hardtime with Zero-san at training yesterday?"

Before Deku can answer the one who asks him that, Eijirou comes up, winks and answers in his stead, "Very hard", and runs away to Mina's side before Deku has a shame-filled meltdown.

(The Ground Riot thing stops only when Mina and Eijirou get finally married.)

[disappearinginq]

Hey I was kind of a bitch to you in the past... Holy Fuck I’ve just understood why you hate shippers, ok I’m a shipper but yikes others are worse. I mean so many people who just want their faves to get together quickly, yikes that can ruin a show fast. I mean yes certain characters could be great together but it needs to be done right not in the batshit crazy cheesy cringe way the shippers demand, yikes. And sorry again for being a bitch in the past.

(2/3)Shippers who are like “and now kiss” or “oh that look they are going to become a thing” and a whole bunch of other BS annoy me so much. If the writers of any show are dumb enough to listen to that it would kill it fast (oh yeah ranting about the Magnum fandom). As a shipper (hahaha you probably hate me now sorry) I cringe when I see others behave like that, I think maybe there’s potential but kinda in a slow burn way (though not ultra show because way too slow and it would end like TIVA).1 (3/3) 2. If a ship is being done right the chemistry needs to build more over time and certain aspects need to change about the character. I just hate the “toxic shippers” who act all entitled wanting a relationship to just happen. Like no it needs to build and the characters need to grow and change slightly, though I can see the possibility of a relationship though I could also see one or two other possibilities that would probably make the psycho shippers burst into flames 😂😂

You know, I’ve held onto this for a long while because I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer it. It’s not even the people who basically mash characters together and don’t care about plot (though it does contribute). But I like watching some of my mutuals having their ‘ships that they follow and love and adore and I get these happy little moments of ‘awww, I just love them, look at their faces!’ or even talking with people about ‘oh, wouldn’t it be interesting if so and so wound up together? I think they could be good, etc’. People who have their happy little bubbles, and their happy little ships, and write their fun little coffee shop AUs where everyone gets to be happy....fine. It’s not my deal, just like dark, super angsty whump fic prrrrobably doesn’t fall into their orbit. It’s cool. 

I do not  like the little shitfucks who pop in just to harass people about either 1) preferring a different ship or 2) not liking their ship. I don’t like the people who get so fucking worked up about an imaginary character that they ruin real lives. Clearly, they don’t like getting that sort of hate, so their brave little selves show up on anonymous so I can’t (unless I feel like recalling OPSEC training that I wasn’t really paying attention to the first time around to back track their digital footprint to throw molotov cocktails at their very real front doors, but I am fundamentally lazy, so...). Shippers of that type are the reason why I stopped watching Voltron - you know, a goddamn kid’s cartoon. Because people were heinous and harassing the voice actors and the writers to the point that the creators didn’t want to work on it anymore. 

And the romance thing I hate because it’s quite often lazy writing, and they make it super melodramatic just for the sake of arguing or having something stupid to bring up later. Chloe and Lucifer = I adore. They spend four whole seasons, each character evolving, becoming better, finding out more about themselves, having real life problems and doubts and trying to decide if they even like who they are with their person. Those stories? I love. But that is pretty much the only one I can think of that didn’t make me shriek at the TV “JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET A GODDAMN PLOT”. I hate that media and shipping just ignores any other relationship. I hate that years of friendship are ignored or put on the back burner because ROMANCE. I hate the stupid, awkward ‘oh, well, we once slept together and now we have to work together and this is weird haha’ - no, it’s fucking garbage. I hate that once shippers decide ‘this is what I want to happen’ they don’t care about anything else. I hate that relationships are becoming these awful, horrid things where people just fight and bicker and break up and make up and just become an awful round robin of WHERE THE HELL DID THE STORY DISAPPEAR TO?! 

And it’s not like it can’t be done well. Like I said, Lucifer and Chloe. Danny Rand and Colleen Wing from Iron Fist (WHO I LOVE AND ADORE), Jessica Whitly and Gil Arroyo (talk about a trash fire where the least dramatic thing is almost having a moment with the guy who caught your serial killer ex-husband) in Prodigal Son, Martha and Francis from Mr. Right, Ty and Amy from Heartland, Jake and Leslie from Republic of Doyle, Danny and Lexi from Blood & Treasure, Jules and Shawn from Psych. And that’s just off the top of my head. 

Thomas and Higgins have potential, but not if writing is still bullshit. There are honestly some moments in episodes where I love how Higgins changes. I love the way that she takes one look at Thomas as he considers having to tell a woman that her newly wed husband died and immediately does it for him rather than making him be the one. That is a solid example of character growth and mutual understanding. I hate the constant fake dating, fake marriage, fake whateverflavoroftheweek. I would hate it in any show, but I really hate how they use it in this show because they just...ruin any progress she mad as a character, and any progress they made as writers. The next thing we’re going to have is a fake pregnancy, or a fake shared child, or some other equally awful crap that sidelines Rick and TC to their own spin-off within their own show, doing exactly what they made fun of Robin for doing to them in the pilot episode despite the ‘rolling like Musketeers’. 

And for anyone who thinks I just hate on Higgins, my least favorite episode is actually “Die He Said” which has nothing to do with her, but just...wtfuckery plot holes and shoddy writing. 

Just....ARGH. They’ve proven they can do this story and these characters justice, but then they just keep shooting themselves in the foot. 

[ohgodsalazarwhy]

Summertime Romance

R76 Summer Event Day 3

Don’t know if I’ll have time to contribute more fics to this event but maybe!! I guess if anyone has any summer time requests they can send them in and maybe I’ll find time to fill those.

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

S.E.P. had never given them time off before, so when the announcement came that they would get a two week break from training and shots, Jack didn’t quite know what to do with himself.  It wasn’t like they could leave the base, not when the program was built on such strict secrecy, but a break was a break.

“This is the most bored I’ve ever been.”

Jack lay upside down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling like it might hold the answer to his boredom.  Amazing how little there was to do on a secret military base dedicated to training super soldiers.  Sure, he could work out but that felt like training.  There was no streamed in media so all they had were the same holovids they’d watched a thousand times.  It was probably 10,000 degrees outside (maybe a small exaggeration), and their single break room was packed with sweaty soldiers jostling over a worn out pair of pool tables.

So Jack was here.  In his rooms.  Staring up at the ceiling with his legs flopped over the couch and his back arched uncomfortably.  He twisted his neck as he heard the handle turn, Reyes sauntering in like the entire room was his and not something he shared with another man.  If he found Jack’s position odd he didn’t say anything, choosing to sit on the couch and turn on the TV, playing one of his ridiculous soap operas.

“Are you just going to watch these all break?” Jack grumbled, already dreading two weeks of the same crap he’d seen a thousand times.

“You have a better idea, Sunshine?” Reyes asked without taking his eyes off the holovid.  He was, as always, the coolest thing in the room.  He was leaning against the back of the couch, one arm thrown over it and thighs spread lazily.  From his position Jack could just see the bare inside of Reyes’ thick thighs, his shorts had ridden up when he’d sat down.  Jack quickly glanced away, hoping Reyes would think he was bright red because it was a little warm in their rooms.  For being a high tech military base, it had shitty temperature control.

“Don’t call me Sunshine,” Jack muttered, realizing he’d been silent for way too long.

“What are you going to do about it, Sunshine?” Reyes taunted, finally taking his eyes off the TV to smirk down at Jack, “Huh, Boyscout?”

Jack said nothing, but only because his throat and closed up with some weird combination of rage and arousal.  A combination only Gabriel Reyes could make him feel so quickly.  As a matter of fact, Reyes had been bringing it out since the day they’d met five months ago, when he’d taken one look at Jack and burst into laughter.  As Jack recalled, he’d said: Who is this? My First War Ken Doll?

Reyes snorted, eyes going back to the screen, “Didn’t think so, pussy bitch.”

“Race you,” Jack said suddenly, sitting up on his elbows to glare at Reyes.

“Excuse me?” Reyes said a bit coldly, eyes darting down as if to pin Jack to the floor.  “Did I hear that right?  You want to challenge me to a race?  Knowing I’ll kick your ass?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Jack slid his legs off the couch to stand up, looking down at Reyes, “I’ve had my share of shots, and you don’t train with my group anymore.  I’ll kick your ass, Reyes.”

“Oh, it’s on, Boyscout,”  Reyes stood up and got in Jack’s face with a snarl, their noses brushing and breath mingling.  It was only through iron self control that Jack didn’t close the distance and kiss him.  That, and the thought that Reyes might punch his head clean off.  Suddenly the heat didn’t matter nearly as much as showing Reyes just how far Jack had come since joining the program.  He’d always been faster than he’d been stronger, and he outstripped every recruit in his training group by miles.  So he was sure he could outrun Reyes, even if the man was a few months ahead in his shots.

They stalked outside and Jack was immediately hit by the heat of the day, the sun beating down on him mercilessly as he stripped out of his shirt.  He was going to burn, he just knew it.  Gabriel pulled off his shirt and started to stretch, Jack stared a little, watching the muscles in his back move under his skin as he limbered up for the race.

“One lap,” Reyes said, “around the perimeter.  Too fucking hot for any long distance shit, and besides, why waste time when we both know I’m going to cream you?”

I wish, Jack thought to himself idly as his eyes followed a trail of hair into Reyes’ shorts.

“Eyes up here, Sunshine,” Reyes snapped.

Jack coughed and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck which was already slick with sweat, “Winner gets the others cake at mainline?”

Reyes was silent for a moment, Jack wanted to see his face but he was a little afraid to meet his eye after being caught staring so blatantly.  “Oh no,” Reyes was grinning when Jack glanced at him, “Loser has to do whatever the winner says.”

“Whatever?” Jack muttered, it got very cold and then very hot again all at once.

Reyes’ fingers curled under his chin, urging Jack’s head up so their eyes could meet, “Whatever.  So if you want something, farmboy, you’d better work for it.”

Jack glared, clenching his teeth together stubbornly, “Hope you like the taste of cock, Reyes, because you’re going to be sucking mine.”

Reyes looked delighted at that, pulling back and playfully punching Jack in the gut, “We’ll see about that.”

Jack coughed and bent over, taking a step back before Reyes could hit him again.  Even if it was playful it still hurt.  Now Jack really had something to play for, and he knew if Reyes win he wouldn’t enjoy whatever the guy made him do.  Probably clean the bathroom for the next two months.  They’d been taunting and dancing around each other for five months, if Jack could end this dance with a race then he’d do it.

They took their places at the corner of the perimeter, Jack crouching and getting ready to run for it.  He’d been in field and track in high school, the fastest man the school had ever seen.  It wasn’t just about speed and endurance, it was about technique.  Technique he didn’t think Reyes had.  While Reyes had said one lap around the perimeter wasn’t “long distance shit” it was still a four mile run, different from a normal sprint.

Reyes smirked at him, “Ready, set... GO!”

Reyes darted forward at full speed, but Jack only went fast enough to remain on his heels.  They could run far faster than the average man, for far longer, but Jack didn’t want to full tilt race Reyes in 100 degree heat for 4 miles. 

“What, was this race just an excuse to stare at my ass?” Reyes yelled as he ran just ahead of him.

Jack didn’t reply, he’d rather conserve his breath.  He was going to win this.  For the first three miles he dogged Reyes’ heels but didn’t try to pass him, watching the sweat drip down his back and yes, watching the bounce of his ass.  It was only an added bonus of remaining behind.  It wasn’t until the final stretch that Jack really started to run.  As he blew past Reyes he caught a glance at his look of surprise and grinned, legs pumping faster as he ran for their start area.  Reyes was dogging his heels now, and they were sprinting full tilt for the finish line.

Jack pulled ahead by a few feet right before twisting and hitting the fence with a laugh, “Not so fast now, are you-” Reyes slammed into him and they hit the dry grass, Jack struggling to get Reyes’ big, sweaty body off of him, “You fucking asshole!” Jack snarled as Reyes pinned him to the ground.  “You’re such a sore l-mmph!”

Reyes’ lips crashed over his, smothering his snarling instantly.  Jack was still for only a second, then the shock disappeared and he was grabbing Reyes, kissing him back just as harshly.  Their teeth clicked, their tongues pushed between their lips.  Reyes was a biter, Jack wasn’t surprised to find out.  He turned his head to gasp for breath and Reyes only started to kiss and suck down his sweaty neck.

It went so fast, Jack felt dizzy with want as Reyes kissed down his body and pushed down his shorts to pull out his cock.  In one swallow Jack was down his throat, Reyes’ nose pressed up against his skin.

“Oh fuck!” Jack moaned, reaching down to tangle his hands in Reyes’ messy, damp hair.

Reyes sucked him with wet, sloppy sounds, slurping loudly as he bobbed his head up and down the shaft.  Jack was painfully hard, thighs trembling as he tried to thrust up into Reyes’ mouth only to have his hand push down on Jack’s hips, pinning him down.  Jack may be faster, but Reyes had always been physically stronger.

It was over so fast it was embarrassing, all it took was Reyes swallowed his cock down on more time and Jack was crying out and spilling down his throat.  “S-Sorry, fuck, sorry I-” Jack babbled, but he was cut off as Reyes came up and kissed him.  It started hard then slowed down, went a little soft.

“There,” Reyes murmured, “you got your prize.”

Jack kissed him again, groaning as Reyes bit down lightly on his bottom lip, “I h-hate to say this but... I didn’t ask for that.”

“What?” Reyes sat back on his elbow, glaring down at him, “before the race started-”

“That was just shit-talking, did I actually say that was what I wanted you to do, Reyes?”

Reyes opened his mouth, shut it, scowled.  Jack grinned and laughed when Reyes thumped him on the chest and sat up, “You’re a bastard and I’m the only one who knows it.  What do you want?”

Jack sat up on his elbows, eyes trailing down Reyes’ chest to where his cock was tenting his shorts, “How about we got back to our rooms and you fuck me, Reyes.”

Reyes’ eyes lit up and smirked, hand splaying over Jack’s chest to shove him flat against the grass again, “And here I thought this was supposed to be me doing something for you.”

[yinnezha]

Hi! I wanna start this by saying that I don't really have an opinion on the karedevil relationship, as in I'm fine with it going canon or not as long as it's well written. So this is a genuine question: where do you see the writing that hints towards them having an actual relationship? Because to me personally it always seems like Karen is super into Matt, while he comes across as not that interested. Especially in S2, it felt more like he thought 'okay whatever, I guess we can go out.'

I also kinda feel like Karen deserves better? I love Matt dearly, but I mean, he basically dropped Karen the instant Elektra was back and acted like a douche, then decided to die with Elektra in Defenders, and then in S3 he seemed totally bitter he had to save her instead of going after Fisk. Maybe I’m just not seeing the writing you’re seeing, but that could totally be me since I’m not invested in any ship on the show. (2)

hey, I wanna start by apologizing for how long this answer is. I will address the points you raised and keep it as objective as I can, talking about the writing of the show and my understanding of it. All bias towards or against particular ships will be kept to myself.

“where do you see the writing that hints towards them having an actual relationship?”

The writing of the first season is filled with hints and foreshadowings, and while Matt and Karen spend the first season without a romantic involvement, it is underlined that they will. But is under lines, it is subtle, less in your face than Matt’s involvement with Claire (and for a reason but I’ll get to that). It is lines like Karen explaining how she promised to her grandmother to only serve her recipe to her future husband and then proceeds to serve it to Matt first, then Foggy. It is lines like Matt telling Foggy back in college that he’s looking for someone that he really likes listening to and a couple of episodes before that, he mention to Karen very matter of factly that he likes listening to her voice. It is lines like Karen’s acceptance of and trust in the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. If you rewatch the first season looking for signs like these, you’ll find them (there are more).

“to me personally it always seems like Karen is super into Matt, while he comes across as not that interested”

Of course Karen’s interest in Matt was obvious from the start; she admires his idealism, his will to fight for justice, how he’s a person who wants to do good. But to understand why Matt wasn’t immediately interested in Karen we have to see things from his perspective. She’s a stranger, involved in some messy things, who is good but lies to him (for whatever reason that she has) and we cannot forget this, that Matt knows Karen lies to him. So with Matt’s “understanding” of people we can assume he is wary of having a relationship. See, Matt’s relationship with Claire was surface and it was meant to be that way. It happened fast, it developed fast and it ended fast. Because Claire was not the one who would accept him and understand him. And so in parallel with that, because Claire cannot accept Matt’s fighting crime, we have Karen’s undying support for the Man in the mask. You see what I mean? But back to Matt’s “disinterest” in Karen… He knows she is a good person, but that’s as far as it goes. They needed time to adjust, to get to know each other beyond the circunstances of their meeting. They needed to build a foundation, and that was happening slowly throughout the first season. The strangers become friends. Enters the second season where some time has passed and they are more confortable with the idea of exploring their mutual interest. 

“it felt more like he thought ‘okay whatever, I guess we can go out’.”

Again, let’s take into consideration that they work together, they see each other all the time, they go out together. In the first episode we see a shift in Matt in which he is more playful with her, more lingering looks… Foggy says “I leave you two alone for one minute” which kind of implies that this is a common ocurrence now, that Matt and Karen are on the flirting banter for a while. And then later on the episode in which Matt kiss Karen for the first time, Foggy says “careful Matt keep going like this you might just end up happy and for a catholic boy that’s a pretty dangerous thing” interesting that he could’ve just teased Matt about being happy but he mentioned Matt’s religion as a subtle reminder to the audience of Matt’s inner struggles, how he beats himself up over what he deserves. You see when is something serious, meaningful is harder for him, his beliefs, his doubts gets on the way. Matt probably wanted to be with Karen for a while but didn’t know how, didn’t know if he deserves her (because of how he sees her, because in reality we the audience knows that she would understand and accept him). So you see, I disagree with your point on Matt “settling” for going out with Karen.

“I also kinda feel like Karen deserves better? I love Matt dearly, but I mean, he basically dropped Karen the instant Elektra was back and acted like a douche, then decided to die with Elektra in Defenders”

Remember my point on Claire not accepting Matt’s Daredevil identity? Well, Elektra is the opposite. She accepts Daredevil, but she does not accept Matt. See? This is good writing! We have different ends of the issue of Matt’s double life in both seasons. And both relationships were wrong for him because something was missing, and in both seasons we have Karen being underlined again as the one that would accept him as a whole. This is very important and it is in the storytelling. There is a reason why Elektra’s relationship with Matt was a parallel to Karen’s in episode 5, it was to show to the audience which relationship is the right one. A lot of people has issues with how Matt handled things but we’re here to talk about the writing and the second season was about Matt’s struggle with his double life and what he really wants. He spends the whole season losing control of his life, and it reflects on his choices.

Now on Karen deserving better, don’t you think Matt deserves better as well? Elektra was a toxic relationship that destroyed Matt’s life as he knew and drove away the two people that matters the most to him. And I’m not erasing Matt’s responsibility here, but no matter how we feel about his actions Matt is the hero of this story, it’s his show and so the writing is telling us to root for what is right for him and that is not Elektra. And he does deserve better. Matt is a complicated man, a tortured man (I mean he is a devoted catholic for crying out loud) he is messy so of course things won’t be easy for him. And that is what makes him interesting. And he did not just fucked up his relationship with Karen but with Foggy as well to whom he was also a bit of a douche. So it’s not about the romance here, but more about Matt’s choices and development and what he needs to fix it. And he does in the third season, he is heading in that direction.

In Defenders Matt was holding onto Matt Murdock and then in season 3 he was holding onto Daredevil. Matt never had a season in which he was not struggling with this. And part of the reason why his relationships don’t work is because of that. But now at the end of the third season we will finally see Matt being fully himself and the people that matter the most to him accepting and understanding because that’s the natural progression of the writing. We had to go through all of this, we needed him to reach this point. And not only Matt but Karen needed some development too. And the third season stripped them of their lies and made them face the truth and when that happened we had one of the best scenes of the season (a little biased sorry) and that is the start of a new chapter for them.

Both Karen and Matt deserve better and the better is themselves, a better version of themselves. Honesty and truth and trust. And that’s what we have been watching since the first season, that’s the story. That’s what the writers are telling us. They are the right, just not right now. They need to learn, they need to deserve, they need to reach that point where they’ll have the understanding and trust that we know they can have, and we know because it’s underlined, it’s being shown to us since the start. It’s a slow burn, beautiful and difficult and complicated and messy… just like Matt’s life. Just like Karen’s life. Just like all the good love stories are.

Many people has issues with Matt and Karen’s relationship, but from the writing and storytelling perspective is great. And is the direction the show will keep taking. They have been developing this romance since the very first episode of the show. Charlie Cox absolutely loves and understand the relationship because he knows Matt Murdock better than anyone, and he is right. Karen is Matt’s soulmate. It’s more deep and slow. And now to finish, something he said that sums up everything I said in a less annoying way:

What we never tried to do, and I think I’m speaking for the writers of the series as well, was to make the beautiful story with Karen – Deborah Ann Woll - look like a rebound relationship. Ultimately it’s a much deeper bond, which lasts fifty years and ironically is more important exactly because it doesn’t draw from roof-jumping, but from everyday life. I think if Karen and Matt could find a way to match their respective darknesses, they would find an excellent balance.

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

There was a girl, and I accidentally fell in love Chapter 1: It was summer when I saw your face, looked like a teenage runaway

You know how sometimes in the movies the first scene is the climax, and then the protagonist goes “To explain how all of this happened, I’ll have to take you back a few months, back to where Blah-and-blah did bleh-and-bleh, and consequently, I’m here”?  

Well, here I am, up on stage on Prom night, in front of a huge crowd of students, holding the hugest Teddy Bear in my right hand, an extremely colorful bouquet of flowers in my left, and just about to start declaring my undying love for the prettiest girl in the world, and I bet you’re wondering how I ended up like this.

Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t my fault?

Probably not. You shouldn’t, that is. A lot of this story happened because I was an idiot, an insensitive idiot, a stupid insensitive idiot, and other unflattering descriptions of me that you will probably hear from my friends’ mouths. But I will say this: it did not start with me. I was not responsible for kicking over the first domino that resulted in this clusterfuck of lives in National City High crashing down on top of each other. That person, was Lex.

See, the thing is, despite all of it, I still love him. He’s my brother, no matter how much of an asshole he is. He likes starting fires and he can be terribly mean, but he’s always been sweet to me. He is the closest thing I have to a loving home, seeing as my real one consists of a Basilisk for a mother, and a ghost for a father. He’s the reason I am up at the very top of the food chain at school. His Jock-reputation carried over to me, and made it easier for me to not only survive, but thrive. I am Lena Luthor, sister of Lex Luthor, and life, is easy for me. I wouldn’t go as far as claiming that people threw flowers at my feet when I walked down the corridors, or that they bowed whenever I passed by, but it is true that I was untouchable. Even the fact that I was a lesbian didn’t get me any bullying. One stare from Lex and his huge biceps was enough to stop any in its tracks.

All in all, Lex is a pretty good brother. The only character flaw he possibly has is his utter loathing of Clark Kent.

That brings us to Clark Kent. Charming nerd. The best actor in our school. Voted Student with the most beautiful eyes in the world two years in a row. Falls in the category of Not Exactly Popular but Everyone Lowkey Likes Him. And the arch-enemy of Lex Luthor.

Nobody knows how it started. Rumor has it Clark once made the winning catch in their Little League team, and Lex hated him getting the attention. Rumor also has it that it started when Clark got to play Superman in the school play, back in fifth grade, winning the part from Lex, who had been harboring dreams of playing a superhero since, well, forever. People say a lot of things, but nobody knows exactly why they hated each other so much, me included. Every time I’d ask Lex about it, he’d smirk it off, and distract me with something else, and after a while, I gave up on asking, and accepted it as one of the enigmas of National City High.

Either way, that was the relevant bit of backstory that was needed for you to understand this entire sordid tale of romance. It all started when Lex Luthor opened his mouth, during lunch, and asked who the girl trailing behind Clark was.

Imagine the scene. It’s lunch. There’s a lot of people milling about, eating. People talk about the classes they have attended, the classes they have yet to attend, the teachers who made an idiot out of themselves and the ones who made idiots of the students. I was sitting at the table with the most Popularity per square area in the cafeteria, with my brother at my side, Sam sitting in front of me, juggling two apples, while Jack sat next to her, frantically completing his AP Math homework. Half of the football team players with their cheerleader girlfriends filled up the rest of the chairs

“Look at them,” Lex mused, biting thoughtfully at a Tater Tot “High School hierarchy in action. The geeks sit with the geeks, talking about Star Trek or Dungeons and Dragons or whatever the fuck they’re on these days.”

Settlers of Catan, I thought, but keep my mouth shut.

“There are the less-popular cheerleaders, the AV club nightmare freaks, the Glee club rapping like idiots, and there he is, the King of the assholes himself.”

I looked up to see Clark Kent walked into the room, and five of his fan girls trail behind him, swooning and giggling. I rolled my eyes at them, but I had to admit, I did see the appeal. He had that Lord of the Nerds thing going on, with his glasses and a pen tucked into his perfectly ironed shirt, and every straight girl in the college had, at least once in their life, been charmed by his smile. But that wasn’t what was bugging Lex today.

“Who is that?” he nudged my side, bringing me back from where I had been staring into space.

“Who?”

“That girl, behind Kent,” he told me, impatiently.

I saw Alex Danvers, stomping past all the annoying girls, looking as though she was just about one hair away from ripping everyone in her immediate vicinity apart.

“That’s Alex, dude,” Sam told Lex before I could open my mouth.

“No, you idiot,” he muttered. He took my head between both his hands, and physically turned it “Look. There.”

It took me a minute, and then I saw her.

You know those movies where guys see the girl, and it’s like a light bulb goes off in their heads, or violins start playing in the background, and the world slows down? It definitely didn’t happen for me. She was pretty. Blonde hair, tied up in a ponytail, large glasses over her face, and a humongous pile of books in her hands, she did the opposite of stand out.  She seemed to be in deep thought, and as we watched, tapped Alex’s shoulder to tell her something.

“That’s Kara,” Jack spoke up, suddenly, and all three of us turned to him “She’s in AP English with me. She’s Alex’s sister.”

“Since when does Alex Danvers have a sister?” Lex asked.

“Since her parents adopted Kara,” he said, then sighed at our dumbfounded faces “It’s like none of you have any idea what’s up.”

“Start. Speaking. Now,” Lex growled at him.

“So she is Clark’s cousin, and she’s apparently very tight with him, because her parents, the Danvers’ and the Clarks were really close. Her parents got into a car accident when she was young, and she’s been brought up by the Danvers ever since, and she was studying in some private school until now. She just transferred here.”

“How did we not know Alex had an adopted sister?” I wondered aloud.

“Because she’s Alex Danvers. Nobody knows anything about her.”

I nodded, and closed my eyes, topic already forgotten in my head. But Lex apparently wasn’t.

“Did you say she was close to Clark?” he demanded of Jack.

“Yes?”

I opened my eyes when I heard him chuckle. It wasn’t his nice chuckle. This spelled more doom than anything else.

“So hurting her would be hurting him?”

“Lex,” I warned him “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on killing a person. Because I will not approve.”

“No, no,” he rushed to reassure me “But think of how devastated he’d be if someone from Lex’s circle dated her and then broke her heart.”

There was a beat of silence, then both Sam and I chucked the objects in our hands at him simultaneously. Lex ducked both a pen, and a half-eaten apple.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“Nothing,” I said, and walked away.

**********

Now, in a perfect world, that would have been the end of matters. Not this one, though.

I’m still not sure what it was exactly that triggered both of them, but I got out of Physics just in time for a random kid to come running up to me and show me a video of Clark punching the lights out of Lex. I watched it for half a minute, and then I was off and running towards the principal’s office. They were both sitting outside, Lex bleeding from his nose, Clark with a black eye, already done with Principal Cat, by the looks of it. I heard my mother’s rising voice from inside and winced.

“She called Lillian, huh?”

Lex mumbled something that sounded close to an affirmation. From the corner of my eye, I saw Clark scowl at us, and move even further away.

I asked Lex what had happened, whispering the question to him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, eyes still burning with righteous fury “But I hate him. God damn it, I hate him so much. I cannot walk this earth without having revenge.”

Well. That’s drama.

His voice had started rising, so I calmed him down by rubbing his back “I know, I know. Calm down, okay?”

He turned to look at me “Please tell me you’d do that?”

“Do what?”

“That thing I was talking about earlier.”

It suddenly clicked and I started shaking my head vigorously “Lex, no, no , that’s…..”

“Please, please, please, Lena,” he implored “I’ll do anything for you, I’ll……..I’ll get you that trip!”

I paused. There had been this science competition coming up in a city nearby, and I had an idea for a great project lined up, but Lillian, being mother of the year, had no intentions of letting me go.

“You can’t,” I told him “There’s no way you can convince her to let me go.”

“Lena,” he told me back, just as seriously “If there is anyone in the world who can convince her, it is her Golden Boy, aka me.”

I took fifteen minutes “Three or four dates. There will be no prank. No humiliation. I’ll just call it quits before it gets serious. But I’m serious, Lex, no humiliation.”

“Eh, I’ll take care of the rest,” he said which didn’t really sound promising, but I convinced myself I’d just break it up before she developed feelings for me. And it was a very good possibility she wouldn’t even want to date me. That would leave me off the hook.

“We have a deal,” I admitted, grudgingly, and he wrapped me up in a tight hug.

[a-very-tail-wizard]

No Sleep Tonight

Rating: MA (smut)

Pairing: Gajevy/Gajeel x Levy

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fairy Tail.

Word Count: 2616

Title: No Sleep Tonight

Description: Gajevy One Shot

Sleepy Levy catches her second wind after a little encouragement from Gajeel. (Basically, smut with a side of romance.)

A/N: I’ve never written fanfiction for Fairy Tail before. Also, I haven’t quite finished the anime, and I haven’t started the manga, so bear with me . Comments are always appreciated. Enjoy!

ffn || ao3

follow up series

Levy

Turning off the light in the bathroom, I pad across the bedroom and climb onto the mattress where I immediately snuggle down under the covers. I’m not in the bed two seconds before Gajeel hooks a muscly arm around my waist and tugs me against him. Instantly, I curl my body into his, rubbing my cheek over his pec.

“Jesus, Levy, why are you so cold?”

“Mmm,” I mumble. “Dunno.”

“You’re like a freaking ice cube! Don’t tell me you were hanging out with Gray again.”

“No,” I tell him softly, my body begging for sleep. “I ran into Juvia while I was out today, but Gray wasn’t with her.”

I yawn, and he reaches over to brush some hair off of my forehead.

“I still can’t believe they’re actually a couple,” he says gruffly.

“I’m not surprised,” I answer drowsily. “Sure, she was a little over the top when you guys first joined the guild, but…she mellowed out after a while. And she’s a great person with a good heart; Gray is lucky to be with her.”

“I’m luckier,” his low voice rasps into my ear, and I feel butterflies erupt in my stomach.

I love seeing Gajeel’s sappy, romantic side. Nobody else would believe me, but he’s incredibly sweet when he wants to be.

“You seem really tired tonight, little bean,” he rumbles in that deep voice of his. “Did you do anything out of the ordinary?”

“No,” I murmur. “Just the usual. I don’t know why I’m so sleepy.”

“No book tonight?”

“I can’t keep my eyes open,” I say with a small whine. “And I’m at a really interesting part, too.”

“Poor Little Levy,” he chuckles softly. “You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow I guess.”

“Yeah…” I let my eyelids droop until I hear him let out a sigh. Instantly, I open my eyes to look up at him. “Was there some reason you wanted me to be awake?”

“Oh, you know…” he grunts. “Just wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk?” I blink.

Every once in a while, Gajeel springs these intense intimate conversations on me. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about them, but now we’re so close that nothing is a secret. I’ve shared more with him than I have with anyone, and I know he’s done the same with me. Somehow, though, I don’t think that’s what he has in mind.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask gently.

“Well, see… I have this problem I thought you could help me with…” His large, rough fingers trail up my thigh, and I bite my lip.

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Mm,” he hums.

“So, really, you just want to have sex?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Well, you don’t have to say it like that,” he growls. “I was trying to be classy about it.”

I giggle, and his arm around me tightens as he rolls me onto my back.

“God, Levy, why is it you can read me like one of your books?” he asks in a gravelly voice, his chest hovering over mine.

“Because you’re actually a big softie under all that hard exterior,” I whisper.

“Some parts of me are harder than others,” he counters with a sly grin. “And, at this particular moment, one of them is extremely hard.”

“I bet I can guess which one,” my reply comes out sounding breathy as my inner thigh comes in contact with the body part in question through the fabric of his underwear.

Oh God. It’s so hot.

I reach down and feel him through his boxers, suddenly feeling wide awake.

“Jesus, Levy,” he grunts at my touch, and I feel a rush of wet between my legs.

I move my hand up and then back down, sliding my fingers into his waistband. I let out a soft cry when I feel him, pulsing and rigid against my palm.

He lets out a growl above me, and I look up to see the veins in his neck throbbing from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw. My fingers move on their own, stroking around the tip only to travel down the shaft, rubbing over each tiny barbell in his Jacob’s ladder piercing that runs the length of him.

The first time we had sex, I wasn’t sure what to do with all the hardware down there, but once he slid in, the added rub and pull of it along my inner walls had me crying out in the best way. Now, I’m obsessed with his piercings. All of them, but the ones adorning his cock especially.

“Levy,” he grunts, his lips dropping to my ear. “You’re not playing fair.”

His long hair falls over his broad shoulder and lands on my chest, making my skin look even fairer than normal. I shiver as the silky strands tickle the flesh between my breasts.

“This was your idea,” I remind him, my hand in his pants continuing to squeeze and stroke him.

“Well, yeah, but you’re making it hard–”

“You were already hard,” I interrupt.

He makes a low noise in his throat, and then suddenly, his hand is sliding under the hem of my top and swiftly down into my panties. I let out a soft yelp as his fingers plunge into my slick folds. My body stiffens instantly as his large, calloused digits drag through my wetness.

“Gajeel,” I gasp, but he grins against my neck and rubs harder with his hand, spreading my sensitive lips and finding my clit with his thumb.

I whimper as my back bows off the bed, my legs going rigid. My hand around his dick flexes, and he jerks.

“Careful, little bean,” he rumbles. “I’m just returning the favor.”

I try to think of a response, but I’m panting too hard. His hand sets into a slow, torturous rhythm, moving up and back along my slit. My hand slips out of his boxers and reaches between my thighs to grab his wrist as he presses harder against me.

“Faster, Gajeel,” I plead, tugging on his arm. “Please, baby.”

“Patience.”

His teeth nip at the skin of my shoulder only for his tongue to lap over it, soothing the sting. I spread my legs, and he makes a rumbling sound that I feel everywhere.

Suddenly, two of his enormous fingers slide deep into my pussy, and I moan, burying my face in his neck, my free hand reaching up to grab a fistful of his dark hair.

“Ride my fingers, Levy,” he commands softly.

I release a soft whine as he begins pumping into me. My hips move against him, desperate not to lose his touch. At the same time that he fucks me with his fingers, his mouth begins moving across my skin. Over my collarbone and up my jaw. The studs below his lower lip send delicious chills down my spine as they brush against me. The tip of his nose brushes along the edge of mine, and I hold my breath in anticipation.

Finally, his lips press against the corner of my mouth. I gasp, and he shifts, his gorgeous lips covering mine in a long kiss. I sigh as his pierced tongue glides over mine, the taste of him flooding my mouth. Using my grip on his hair, I hold him against me, nipping his lower lip with my teeth. He grins against my mouth and returns the gesture. I never want to stop kissing him.

He surprises me when he moves again, taking control of the kiss and simultaneously increasing the speed and power of his thrusting fingers. My own clench tight in his hair, and I have to tear my mouth from his, desperately. My body feels feverish and out of control from everything he’s doing to me. The sensations coursing through me are overwhelming.

“Oh God. Oh God,” I choke as my legs begin to quiver.

“Are you close?” he murmurs.

“Mmm,” I whimper my confirmation, and his hand slows, gently pulling out.

My legs squeeze together in its absence, and I wince at the feeling of wet all down my thighs and on the sheet below me.

“Don’t stop,” I hiss at him, trying to pull on his studded forearm.

“You’re tired,” he says in a low tone. “I want to move on to the main event, so you can get some rest.”

“But–”

He cuts me off by forcing my top over my head. I gasp as the cool air of the room causes my already-tingling nipples to tighten into points. He shoves my bottoms off next, leaving me lying naked underneath him.

His hand, still glistening with my juices, drops to my left breast where he rubs his thumb over the swell before rolling the pointed bud between his fingers. I squirm under him, and he looks down at me and grins.

“Go ahead and take me out, Levy,” he says hoarsely.

With a shaky hand, I reach for his boxers again, quickly yanking them down, allowing his angry, red cock to spring free.

“Hurry,” I plead up at him. “I want it.”

“Fuck, Levy,” he laughs. “You’re cute when you’re horny.”

“Shut up, Gajeel,” I groan, reaching for him.

Before I can touch him, he sits back and grabs my knees, forcing them apart. Without hesitating, he shifts his large body between them, his throbbing erection swinging wildly with each of his movements.

He lowers back down until his solid pecs are teasing my painfully stiff nipples. My hands come up to his shoulders while one of his dives into the space between our hips.

I feel the bulging head of his shaft push between my lips, and I take a slow breath. He’s so insanely large…I don’t know if I can take it. He inches in more, and my fingers dig into his skin.

Did he get bigger since last time? And harder? Is he using his dragon slayer magic to alter the state of his cock? Is it actually made of iron?

“Levy…” He lifts his free hand to my face and strokes my cheek with his thumb, the look in his eyes so incredibly gentle.

“I want it,” I repeat on a whisper. “Now, Gajeel.”

He nods, and I grit my teeth as he sinks in.

“Oh! OH!” My eyes squeeze shut in pain and pleasure as the metal of his piercings drag against the tender flesh of my pussy.

“So fucking tight,” Gajeel grunts, and I take deep breaths as I adjust to his immense size.

God. He’s in so deep. Is it always like this? I can feel his balls against my ass. And his cock is so hard and heavy…and hot. It’s burning inside of me.

“I love this feeling,” I confess breathlessly. “You…It hurts so good.”

“Yeah,” he snarls, making it clear his control is slipping.

“I’m okay,” I murmur, sliding my fingers up into his hair. “Go ahead and fuck me.”

He releases an almost animalistic grunt and pulls out rapidly only to slam back into me. I let out a sharp cry and lock my arms around his neck. He continues thrusting fast and hard, his balls slapping against me. My body rocks with his rhythm causing my breasts to slide against his pecs, the friction sending tiny bursts of pleasure through my nipples. My moans get louder and longer each time his giant cock enters me. His own sounds are grunts and groans through gritted teeth. Hearing them only makes me wetter, and I steal a peek only to find the evidence of my arousal coating his hammering cock.

Suddenly, he shifts his weight to one arm planted in the pillow beside my head, and his free hand slides under my ass, lifting me, enabling me to take more of him.

“Gajeel!” I scream at the impossible fullness inside of me.

The friction he’s creating is so intense…like everywhere he touches is hyper-stimulated and pulsing with pleasure. I feel like my pussy is going to explode. And at the same time, my orgasm keeps slipping away. I need to come so bad it hurts, but I just…

I moan in frustration as the Jacob’s ladder grinds against me.

“Are you coming?” he asks sounding strangled.

“No,” I choke, tears forming along the edges of my eyes. “But I’m close.”

“You gotta come, Levy.”

“I…I can’t!” I cry out as the acute burning in my pussy increases.

A growl escapes from his throat, and his head drops to my breast. He begins pumping wildly with his hips, and my breath gets caught in my lungs.

“Come, little bean,” he grinds out as his lips lock around my aching peak, his teeth tugging at my erect nipple.

His cock slams in again, and the compiled sensations of his teeth and his tongue on top of his monster cock finally do it. I come screaming his name, my back arched off the bed, my fingers clenched so tight that I start to lose feeling, tears streaming down my face. All the while, Gajeel continues pounding into me, prolonging my climax. It lasts so long my entire body is trembling from it.

When my scream dies out into desperate whimpers, Gajeel’s thrusts get erratic and pick up in speed. Seconds later, his head flies back as he releases a long groan, and I feel his orgasm pouring into me. When he’s spent, he collapses on my chest, almost crushing me under his weight. However, since I’m still recovering from my own life-changing orgasm, I don’t have the energy to move.

After a few minutes, he rolls off of me, his semi-hard cock sliding out of my raw pussy, leaving me feeling empty. I try to push up on my elbows, but they instantly give out. Instead, I lay there, my legs parted, my pussy leaking a mixture of his come and my own onto the sheets, trying to catch my breath.

“I’ll clean you up,” he breaks the silence hoarsely. “In a minute.”

I give him a tiny nod and close my eyes. I feel him exit the bed and listen as he pulls on fresh boxers and goes into the bathroom where he turns on the tap. It goes off a minute later, and I take a deep breath before I roll onto my side.

“Here,” he rumbles, coming up to my side of the bed holding a wet rag. “Lift your leg.”

He has to help me in the end because my limbs feel like noodles, holding my knee up with one hand as his other wipes our combined wetness from my slit. When he’s finished, he scoops me up and carries me across the room to the futon where he sets me down. I instantly curl onto my side, releasing a slow breath to try to relieve some of the throbbing in my pussy.

“I’m going to change the sheets,” he tells me. “I’ll be fast.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

I feel his lips on my temple, and his hand squeeze my neck gently before he walks away. I must fall asleep because the next thing I remember, he’s helping me into my panties and nightie and carrying me back to our bed.

“Thank you for indulging me,” he murmurs gruffly into my ear.

“Mmm.”

He climbs in with me and pulls the clean sheets up over us.

“I love you, Levy.”

“I love you, too,” I mumble. “Go to sleep.”

I feel his chest move with soft laughter, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he presses his lips to my head, and tucks me close to his side, where I instantly fall asleep.

[weirdness-on-the-roof]

critical role episode 48 campaign 2 notes and funny lines post break edit:this has detailed notes on all the stuff that happened later in the episode including physical descriptions near the end. enjoy ya nerds

don’t steal the books from a high powered mage; don’t kill the dude; beau turning into cad; look at beau planning for the future

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is marisha flirting with matt via matt playing yasha and beau flirting with yasha?

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‘tea the international language’ but no earl grey

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wensworth the goblin

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coming from Cad ‘im a fine tea maker’ is kinda a threat tbh

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elf that isn’t white/European??? yay! also really old elves are cool

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beau and cad tag teaming a political chat with a mage this can’t end poorly

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Nott: :beau ruins every situation shes in and is very abrasive

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send the freaking cat!!! why not?? caleb my dude

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god i miss allura and gilmore currently

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fucking fuck don’t lie to the mage beau plz stop this is painful ‘you’re not wrong’ sure blame the ancient sea god

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‘on the verge of returning’ yea no duh you let him out 2/3 of the way so fjord could get a spell

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‘we found a thing’ so smooth and eloquent beau ‘it was presented to us as the happy fun time ball’

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‘butter fingers with magical items’

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beau getting a geography lesson from a very old powerful elven mage

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‘magical geometric orb that has the ability to bend time and space and fate’ which is kept in a hot pink magic bag that happened to ‘fall into [their] lap’

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‘if youre down im down is what im saying... i have a few slots open in my loyalty bank if you’re willing to pay rent’ says the 20 some human who punches things to the centuries old wizard ‘

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liam stress eating

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cad’s hope in the group is heartwarming

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tower metaphors and a conversation!!!

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caleb reading shitty romance novel and nott eating a fish outside a mage’s tower in the morning sunlight in a major city

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caleb takes the rear

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first name drop and a while

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holy shit 200 years of magic using

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cad explaining materialistic nature of the rest of the party to elf dude is hilarious

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teleportation circles?????? in return for access to the sphere!! oh shit thats good

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or candy

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crap. no one has insight checked this dude and they gave him the happy fun ball and made a deal kinda.

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‘how do we prove our loyalty?’ ‘by not fucking me over’ sounds like a good plan

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is this guy just caleb’s patron now on the low idk this is how my head works and he said learn

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“you have a geometric shape that makes babies?” “yea they talked about that”

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fjord just kills the dude

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‘i got banishment on hold just in case’ *cackling laughter*

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i agree with elf dude, him not knowing anything about the dodecha is more concerning than him knowing about it

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ALL THE CITIES FROM CR1 MENTIONED FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! I STILL MISS ALLURA AND GILMORE

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good to know the pink bag protects from divination on this plane but just this one

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jester and the traveler figurine

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cad included the Traveler in the ‘chaotic forces’ i still think the traveler is some kinda arch fey evil things idk its real late here and this is incoherent

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‘well, thats been my morning tea‘ 

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caleb getting additional tour

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good aesthetic for the room tbh

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letting weird people in for morning tea is entertainment is a mood and something i strive to be able to do without getting murdered one day

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so yasha and caleb both have gotten the ‘stay with friends’ chat from a powerful being which is nice. but also the ‘use who you need to’ going to caleb is vaguely concerning

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personalized biscuits [bourbon, cinnamon, lobster, fish and three unknowns]

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‘caleb, what happened in there?’

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cad not believing caleb’s bullshit and opening doors for caleb warms my heart

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‘if this isn’t the death of us, and if not hes a good ally. somethings gonna be the death of us so [yolo]’

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‘you can’t bullshit everyone in this world’

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cad talking about beau telling the truth: ‘you’re not very good at it but you tried

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jester looking out for nott and her home town

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caleb and beau being cute while also giving each other shit is the most sibling like thing

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omg going back to allfield that was so long ago for fucks sake BRYCE my person thank god

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jester had a boy band phase its cannon and i think the girls had a sleepover in jester’s old room. also marion never leaves the hotel. THE RUBY NECKLACE MY HEART AND THE HONEY AWWWWW

‘the army of men and women and inbetween that will do as i want them to’ god i adore her being protective of jester

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also the fact matt makes such a good mom why is he like this

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travel time!!!! ‘roll for initiative’-tal

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how does matt keep these notes so organized and remember all the npc names

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the ranger/beast master in Laura is coming out with nugget

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caleb is a devout cat person and jester is the definition of a dog person

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nott refining oil on a magical moving cart, while jester reads a romance novel and trains a dog,

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Dyren- Beau’s roommate at colbot souls; ‘taught beau lots of really cool things’ got sent to a warfront. shaved head, dark clothes, buff b/c ‘been workin out’, ‘do you love her?’ they had ‘good times’, then literal booty call, and dropping locations, Dyren was in Bladegarden. ‘fierce eyebrows, pointed nose’

                    OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES

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Vandren info drop to Fjord ‘he was making amends’

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Dyren responded and was hurt in Bladegarden but is safe. Beau looked immediately worried and happy about jester’s imput [’sounded way into you’]

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empire kids chat and caleb admitting insecurities about powerful people and being scared about the consequences of his actions and the group’s actions. caleb is scared about being forced to leave for safety and being ���flayed alive’. my thoughts are he would leave if he became a threat to the others by being there or vise versa. trent would extort that b/c hes a dick

“caleb, unfortunately, you don’t get to choose who cares for you” you’re fucking correct Beau

“the problem with friends is that you have to care for them”

walks away “wow cool caleb! see- jester thinks you’re cool because shes your fucking friend!”

me too Tal “everything i like about those two characters in one conversation”

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5 years since Caleb left Trent and crew ie had a nervous breakdown

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gustav left town after being freed and trostenwald now has a WV accent that is too familiar

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100 extra soldiers in allfield. bryce is still up and kicking and wonderful. stuff ‘got this far east [quickly]’. the attacks came from underground apparently so fuck. the fields were burned, building destroyed a bit then they [Xhorhasians] left

“good thing is they’ve already been attacked so lightning doesn’t strike twice” oof thanks bryce

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beau just dead ass asking for illegal writing statements

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fjord having a thank u jesus bryce moment

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jester giving cad a pretty present is ‘so exciting’ and precious

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Cad not knowing cookbooks were a thing!!! and not being utterly literate enough to understand it

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wtf happened to liam’s voice in the ‘main export is oysters’ thing

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FELDERWEN!!!!!

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a dozen squads of 50 ppl each patrolling felderwen area so rippppp

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Nott knows where the halfing’s house is.... interesting... and is heavily drinking

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BLUE FLASH

elven woman in fine clothes of green and black ----lady vest durogna the arch mage of antiquity serboros assembly

a male figure in deep blue robes, older pale elf, fine clothes, the flash came from him----- martinette luden’th de____ arch mage of domestic protection

CALEB KNOWS THEM BOTH FROM THE ACADEMY AHHHHHH

he just lays flat and hides in the cart internally: ‘nopenopenopenope’

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several burned buildings, a warehouse, an inn, apothecary and several houses

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ohhhh shit the halfling was the owner of the apothecary and nott was looking for the shit she had been sending back this whole adventure....... im sad now that was confirmed

havent found a body of yeza

luke is yeza’s son at old edith’s house

            halflings only produce halflings according to something i read at some point but forget where sooooooooo

shattered vials and materials and house stuff

CHILDREN'S TOYS

locked basement which nott knows of?? Nott is anxious and impatient when the door doesn’t open. jester fails, yasha rages and at a 19 and doesn’t break the door. ‘it wasn’t [trapped]’ but dispel magic worked to open it.

a 15′x15′ room, tossed ‘not like you remember’ to nott, a 2x3 iron chest. a single chair in the center of the room. definitely a struggle with heavy impacts and blade scratched on wall

             nott was the torturer from the goblin tribe

chair was placed in the spot after the struggle

this was where he [yeza] kept chemicals according to nott

poisoned iron locked box (dull black glass)  inside a retractable silver tripod to hold something atop it, 3 empty vials 1 full one with a liquid/gas fog like dull colored thing, a pile of destroyed notes [two pieces of still legible paper which have props]

            dunamous field, causes ppl slow to be slower or faster, ‘captured crin operatives’ dunaments and dunamacy, origon gliffs, exist outside established schools of magic, theory in deeply rooted in arcana taken for granted, rooted in _____ town, 12-16 months to refine, word has found me that trent’s kiddos have knacks for this things, dreams are thrilling

well shittttt

            crin on battle fields, ‘breaking fields of fate, fuck the raven queen

SHIIIIIT

a piece of dunemous

dodecha goes in tripod according to beau

chair facing chest

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cricks did this apparently

a little under 100 crowns guard killed, 4 civilians burned

soldiers just ‘slowed down’ 

left via tunnels and collapsed them behind them

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nott dont be a bitch and don’t get mad at caleb and call them ‘his people’

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cad picks up caleb and ‘youre not at fault here, youre the solution here. don’t let her anger... its not about you’

my HEART

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the chest is too big for the haver sack but fits in lorenzo’s bag of holding

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people have entered and exited since the attack and left the chair and stuff

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lots ‘o chairs

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nott needs to see ledith and uke (?) and not flip the fuck out

‘humble hobble’

nott looked like halfling plump face, braids, tan skin

edith- human older, grey hair, beady eyes, ever present smile like face

          LUKE IS HER SON!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CANNON

         *edit- rewatching this and seeing ever one’s faces “wheres my son?!” particularly laura/liam/travis just hurt. liam just looked up after a second and travis did his face he does and laura just stiffened and eyes and hand to face. caleb/liam who knows just hugs himself the rest of the convo. marisha is note taking and fuck the video off now

about 5 yrs old, blue eyes, tan/light brown skin, halfling

gave him the doll of the king

IM GONNA CRY NOW BYE

‘HES PROABLY DEAD NOW TOO LIKE I THOUGHT YOU WER’

yenza locks him away when ‘the mean lady comes by’

mean lady has pointy ears and comes often, luke was kept in room, luke was pushed out of the house and told to go somewhere safe so he ran to edith’s house and ‘everything was on fire’

‘im not strong enough to come back yet but know that [im stll thinking of you and i send things] and i hope dad sends them to you.“ fuck my heart

“in my heart i think he is” “well don’t die”

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the elves are gong to the ruins of yenza’s house

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marisha looked so betrayed

tal ‘i was waiting for the riegel shoe to drop’

WOW

HEY CALEB- WOOOW

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we’ll pick up hiiiere

fuck you sam and matt and everything abou this my heart is just FUCKKK

ummm so enjoy the frantic poorly taken notes <3

[nanoland]

posting this again in a shameless bid for attention (the usual 2-3 people who already give me plenty of attention pls ignore and also i love u <3)

(Also on AO3.) 

Clean Hands, part 4

Crowley/Dean Winchester/Castiel

Warning: Demon deals, violence, mention of abuse and torture. Also: Crowley is an abuse + addiction survivor and also a cold-hearted arsehole with very little respect or empathy for abuse + addiction survivors, and this story is written from his POV. 

0

What was there to be done when you were enamoured of a man who hit you?

Leave him! the whole world cried back in one voice.

Which was a bit like telling someone trapped in a burning car to get out of the car. Yes. Quite. Thank you. Fully agree. But what if, for a moment, you assumed I wasn’t as stupid as a fucking dog?

That, incidentally, was one of a handful of ways the world had worsened since Crowley last drew breath.

Back in the fourteenth century, the women in the marketplace had noted his black eye and torn dress with immediate understanding. Instead of insisting he pack his bags and walk out of the house belonging to his wealthy shoemaker husband, the father of his child, the man on whom his safety and good reputation and continued ability to eat depended, the man he, for some fucking reason, still loved, they’d actually tried to help.

Sybil had given him willow bark for the pain. Rose had engaged him in long, rambling conversations, stretching the minutes until he had to return home. Jane had walked across the village and rapped on his door every evening she could, always armed with solid excuses, just when the bastard was well and truly in his cups and looking for something to damage.

If ever analytical minds were to try to account for Crowley’s misanthropy and sadism, they couldn’t honestly conclude that either was due to his never experiencing true, heartfelt human kindness.

Yes, Sybil and Rose and Jane had all thought he was a woman and addressed him accordingly, and it had hurt. But that wasn’t their fault. He’d not had the courage to tell them otherwise.

Crowley didn’t regret much. Regret, in this game, was a slow-killing poison.

Still, he did occasionally wonder how things might have turned out if he’d accepted Jane’s invitation and fled with her to London that one warm night, rather than hanging in for years until he finally snapped and beat his husband’s skull into tooth-sized pieces with an iron kettle.

Returning to the present:

As Crowley watched Dean’s fist barrel towards his face, and not for the first time, he reviewed the pros and cons of incinerating him with hellfire.

When fist and nose were one millionth of an inch apart, he teleported across the room.

“Squirrel,” he sighed, “this has nothing to do with you.”

Dean charged and took another swing at him. “Fuck you! He worked so hard! Clean for four years, you piece of shit!”

This time, Crowley reappeared sitting on top of the dead man’s wardrobe, where Dean couldn’t reach him. “Good for him. His family and friends won’t remember him as the thieving, lying wretch he was ten years ago when he sold his soul for a pound of meth. They’ll probably give him a nice funeral.”

“Why couldn’t you make an exception? Just once?”

“That’s not how this works, Dean! It wasn’t even my deal! The contract is in the hands of a relatively inexperienced subordinate and honestly, I’m glad that she pulled it off. She’s got potential. This is her first real win. It’ll increase her standing in Hell and make her more powerful, which will be useful because some older demons have taken to bullying h-…”

“I don’t give a damn about your minions,” he snarled, picking up a lamp sprinkled with blood and throwing it at him. Crowley ducked. “Every last one of you can take an angel blade to the face, for all I care. You’re fucking parasites.”

Evenly, Crowley replied, “Yes. We are. You know that. You’ve always known that. Why are you having a fit about it now? Good people get dragged to Hell all the time.”

Dean stared down at what remained of Martin Booke, now that the hellhounds had left. “He worked so hard. Christ. You could have made an exception. He came to us and I swore I’d help him out.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have cocking well done that, should you?” Crowley cried, throwing up his hands.

Eyes wet, Dean sneered at him. “Parasite. Get out of my sight before I wring your evil neck.”

Crowley left.

Upon arriving back in Hell, he went to the Admissions Department.

The soul of Martin Booke was sitting in one of the cheap blue plastic chairs, knees drawn up to his chest. Probably still reeling from the trauma of the hounds ripping his throat out, though no damage was evident on his form now.

“Mr Booke,” Crowley said, sauntering up with his hands in his pockets. “Could you come with me, please?”

A door appeared in the nearest wall and swung open silently.

Once they were both standing inside Crowley’s office, it swung shut and dissolved into nothingness.

Moving to his liquor cabinet, Crowley said, “I hear you’re a Harvard man.”

“Um… y-yeah. Yes. I was.” Thin voice. Midwestern accent.

“Promising career ahead of you before things – ah – went awry.”

Booke swallowed. “Tom. First boyfriend. Got me into meth. Got me into a lot of stuff. I figured it was okay because we were gonna be together forever and as long as I had him, I’d be fine. Then he went and died and I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Smiling thinly, Crowley said, “Isn’t romance grand? As it happens, you may still get your happily ever after. Thomas Abbott is currently waiting in the eternal queue – which, ordinarily, is where you’d be headed.”

“Yeah. Dean told me. Although… um…”

“You have a question? Spit it out. Cowards bore me.”

“Dean said that when you sell your soul, you go to Hell and demons torture you until you become a demon. But he also told me about the queue thing. So that’s confusing. I mean, queuing sucks but it’s not torture.”

Crowley poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down behind his desk. “Clever boy. Yes; when I became King of Hell, I restructured things. Most of you end up in the queue. The hot knives and whips are a speciality service and, as such, are reserved for our elite clientele. The pedos and Nazis and so forth – and, of course, anyone who pisses me off too much. As for the process of becoming a demon; that doesn’t actually require torture. I know! Surprised me too! We always thought it did, back when Lilith was in charge. Then I started running some tests and it turns out that becoming a demon is a bit like catching a virus; it’ll happen to anyone who hangs around other demons long enough. Everyone in the queue will have black eyes by the end of their first century.”

Booke took off his glasses and nervously rubbed them on his sleeve. “You said that ‘ordinarily’ I’d go to the queue. So am I an – uh – ‘elite client’?”

“Hah! No. Your little life was staggeringly boring and barely impacted anyone in ways either negative or positive. No, the reason you’re here is Harvard. See, I had a snoop and it seems that before you dropped out, you were getting bloody good grades.”

A wistful smile. “I guess. Had big dreams, once.”

Sipping his bourbon, Crowley said, “On track for a Master’s in aeronautical engineering, I believe.”

“Yep. I wanted to work for NASA.”

“Cards on the table, Booke: I might have a job for you. There is, at present, space in one or two of our departments for a man with your talents. But first I need to ask a question.”

He cocked his head. “Um. Sure? Anything’s better than what I was expecting. Shoot.”

“Do you know how to crash a spaceship?”

[moodring89]

Wedding Crasher CH. 03

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Romance / Smut Rated: M / NC17 Tags: Wedding!AU, Badboy!AU, Violence, Debauchery Summary: It was always a little bit tragic for Hoseok whenever he got caught, which wasn’t often. He had enough experience with crashing weddings to be considered a veteran. One easy lie after another, from the church to the reception hall. Previous chapters: 01, 02

If you're having trouble reading my story with the tumblr themes, read here.

‘Couldn’t keep it locked away, couldn’t take it to the grave.’ Hoseok had spent a majority of his Saturday on FB, looking through the boring, predictable lives of Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin. It was almost laughable how well they suited each other, like a friggin’ rom-com drama adapted from a webtoon. Hoseok had read this story, time and time again. He’d personally witnessed it, having attended his fair share of weddings as an active habitualist, but what he really enjoyed though, was the lie, in which one person stared directly into the eyes of another, and promised to be there in sickness and in health, ‘til death… It was all a masquerade, an artfully constructed ball made up of finesse, excellent gourmet, and women. Sad, lonely women – friends and family watching the vows of love entangle two souls together. Or was it more like it entrapped them? Either way, the sanctity of marriage wasn’t off limits to the keen prowess of Jung Hoseok. He lived to watch others parish. He wanted their hearts to burn hot and angry with betrayal. He abhorred their happiness, because he craved it for himself, but he’d never had a taste of true love. He wouldn’t know its flavor, even if he swallowed it whole. Love was an image that never stayed still long enough for Hoseok to take a picture – never in focus, completely unrecognizable. When Sunday arrived the next day, he knew exactly what he was going to wear – the crisp black button up with the red heart-shaped patterns. It was an unusual, yet ironic choice given the fact that he was outwardly celebrating love, even when he did not believe in it. He slipped into a black silhouette fitted jacket and matching slacks. Breaking out his red leather shoes, he dug into his accessories next, going with his gold bullet back cufflinks and a L.U.C mechanical watch that sat heavily upon his wrist. Jimin’s bedroom door cracked open, the shark slippers Hoseok bought for him last Christmas scuffing across the tiles of the kitchen floor. The boy had just woken up, eyes still shut with sleep as he searched the fridge for his jug of water. He slapped the milk a few times. “That’s the milk,” Hoseok said, leaning over the counter with his bowl of cereal. “A bit more to your left. No, your other left…” Jimin grabbed the jug and stood there taking a long, generous sip. In doing so, the length of his precious dongsaeng’s neck was exposed, revealing Jeongguk’s heavy claim. “We didn’t really get the chance to talk about Friday,” Hoseok said, before rinsing out his bowl, and setting it aside. He leaned back against the surface behind him, taking a closer look at his friend, going over his body like he was taking inventory, accounting for things that might be misplaced – observations of what could be hurt or broken by the impromptu tryst. Jimin had to think for a moment, squinting through the haze of sleepiness, “Friday?” “That tall, dark, and handsome boy you left me all alone at the club for,” Hoseok reminded him, still somewhat bitter over the whole ordeal. Yoongi had to come and get him, again. He had to share another awkward conversation with his hyung, again – feeling like a scolded child by the time the blonde was finished with him. “Oh, Jeongguk? He left about an hour ago and I went back to sleep.” Hoseok stilled, wondering how the fuck he hadn’t heard him. To be fair, he’d been locked in his room, staring holes into his computer screen, memorizing family members like they were his own. If they’d fucked at all, Hoseok had zoned it out completely. “Isn’t he going to be late?” Hoseok asked, as he glanced down at his watch. The kid was ballsy. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with him on a daily basis, which might end up being a thing. He put in the information for an Uber, before noticing that Jimin was still staring at him. Jimin started, “Hyung…” The elder grinned from ear to ear, because Jimin could be eighty years old with a walker, and still be the cutest person on the planet. “What, Minie? Do you want to kiss hyung goodbye?”       “I really like Jeongguk. So, if you could please not ruin it for me tonight…” The fact that Jimin had to ask him to refrain from doing such a thing should say a lot. The guilt of it coiled cold and unwanted within the pit of Hoseok’s stomach. He gave a slow nod, the excitement he felt moments prior dulled. “Of course I won’t.” Hoseok would never intentionally hurt his friends, but that didn’t mean that it never happened. Sometimes it was unavoidable. At least, that was the lie he told himself.   It was thirty minutes and three wrong turns later that Hoseok was standing outside the venue. One he’d never been to before, which was surprising given his track record. Both the ceremony and reception would take place inside the wedding hall. This should have made the planning lot easier and cost efficient, like with most Korean weddings. So, really, Hoseok didn’t know what the fuck you were on about in regards to Saturday being exceptionally busy. Hoseok wondered if there was a small piece of him that felt tempted to seek you out tonight. If that was perhaps the real reason as to why he even considered attending a same sex wedding in the first place, because if he didn’t find someone better, you’d still be a viable option. Nothing too serious. It wasn’t like he’d palmed his dick to thoughts of you on Yoongi’s shitty, uncomfortable floor that evening – except that he did, thus soiling his briefs like he was a fucking teenager. The great thing about most wedding halls was that you didn’t need an invitation or to RSVP. Slipping in was easy and Hoseok enjoyed a good seat. He placed himself amongst the immediate family, testing the waters, gauging how well he could fit in with them. A small taste, a façade of recognition, Namjoon’s father was a gentle person. Hoseok took the man’s hand into his own and gave it a firm shake. It was a happy day. All cheesy lines would work on anyone right about now. Hoseok smiled so big that his eyes disappeared into twin crescents, spewing out the first Hallmark he could think of, “They say love conquers all.” Namjoon’s mother was similarly too overjoyed to question Hoseok’s presence, all too willing to accept his hug when he gave it. He went in for another taste, seeing how much he was able to get away with. “It’s sad that grandma couldn’t make it today. This is the best opportunity to bring our family together.” Her eyes were clouded with unshed tears, as she took Hoseok’s hands into her own, running her thumbs over the top of his knuckles. “Oh, I know. She was really upset, too. If you want, you should stop by and see her. She’d love it.” It was settled then, Hoseok was from Namjoon’s side of the family. He’d been gunning for it during his research, knowing that it would be easier. Aside from that, Seokjin’s family looked like a bunch of refined, chaebol bastards. That entire section of family was stiff as fuck and the complete opposite of Seokjin himself. Namjoon must’ve been determined or a goddamned saint to have made it this far into the relationship without being swayed to quietly move the fuck on with a payout. Hoseok could tell by the tension that there was probably an argument or several in order to make this blessed day come to fruition. The ceremony started a few moments later with the photographers. Yes, plural. Photographers were ready and waiting for each groom to enter. Soon it was a deafening choir of flashing cameras and celebratory clapping, until the ceremony was ready to officially begin. Hoseok enjoyed tuning it all out, reserving every bit of inward amusement for the vows. This gave him ample time to look over the guests, catching a glimpse of Jeongguk – the silent as the grave creepin’ motherfucker. Next to him was Taehyung, the guy with the set of paws, as well as Yoongi’s rapt attention. Hoseok dragged himself the short distance to the bathroom, tossing his briefs into the garbage. They were beyond salvageable and he wasn’t interested in the work. He proceeded to clean the dried cum from off his skin with one of Yoongi’s decorative hand towels. He then rinsed his mouth out with wash and was smart enough to avoid the mirror this time. Swinging open the door, he was startled to find Yoongi standing there. “The fuck, hyung…” The elder extended his hand out with a pair of clean boxers, “Here.” “So, you heard me? Great. Were you able to get off, too?” Hoseok asked, as he wordlessly dropped his jeans in front of the blonde, sliding the boxers up over his legs.   Yoongi’s steely eyes bore into Hoseok’s, disinterested, “Do you remember the guy who took care of you last night?” Hoseok snickered, a sharp, bitter sound to anyone who knew him. “It wasn’t that deep, alright? The kid carried me to your car. Why?” “That ‘kid’ had enough sense to call me when you were in trouble and yeah, he had to carry your heavy ass. You’re like, 80 percent muscle, you ungrateful little shit. Why are you so…? Forget it.” Yoongi didn’t know how to properly place his anger or why he felt the need to defend Taehyung so fiercely against his oldest friend. Hoseok laughed with mirth at the elder’s strong reaction, “Well, Jimin is probably being fucked by his friend right now. Would you like me to go and ask him for Taehyung’s number for you?” He stepped closer then, using his height to set Yoongi back a couple steps. Despite being impervious to most bullshit, he really was no match for Hoseok, which was something the younger was all too aware of, especially cruel and spiteful in his delivery, “Anything to help you get over me, hyung.” “Don’t…” Yoongi closed his eyes, able to feel the warmth of Hoseok’s breath against his skin, the very heat radiating from off his body. “Don’t ask. I was just curious.” “How curious,” Hoseok said, wondering if the bitter taste in his mouth was the fact that he was losing Yoongi, even though he’d never be able to return his feelings.   Yes, Hoseok was hideous inside and out. You were beside Taehyung, seeming to stand out in a large sea of black formal and boring, opaque cream attire. You were dressed in a deep red floor length gown with an open back, showing off a smooth expanse of skin that followed down to the last knot of your spine. It was an elegant number in comparison to what you’d worn to the club. The thought of matching had Hoseok feeling oddly satisfied. Red was such a bold color, but then again he was bold. It was possible that you were something else entirely, an enigma, as all women started off, until they were deemed as less. There were girls on Seokjin’s side of the family he’d love to play around with. Spoiled princesses were his favorite type, possible heiresses to fortunes were smart investments and yet... He was more focused on you, which was a rather annoying anomaly. You were stealing his attention from other potential, no more than a fucking eyesore. He was too hyperaware of Taehyung’s hand lingering on the small of your back. He held you against him just as a smile lit up your face, staring up at him – your lips were saying something, and Hoseok found himself wanting to be let in on it, almost resenting the intrigue that had manifested over such a small thing. The ceremony came to an abrupt end, the vows as good as muted with Hoseok being so utterly distracted. Rose petals were tossed at the couple as they walked by. He watched as you turned with the motion, making sure to sprinkle your handfuls onto Namjoon’s shoulders. Taehyung gave you more petals from his stash and Hoseok wanted to slap the basket from his hands. As difficult as it was, he held it in, trying to be less obvious about his staring problem. Food was being served in a large room. It was the second stage of the wedding, leaving the reception as the third, and final stage of this shit show. This part was always a bit more personal, lights no longer dimmed with the tables stretched far, and able to fit so many. Hoseok decided it was a safe bet to casually make himself known to you, despite his original plan to remain inconspicuous. He walked towards the buffet and started filling up his plate. There were several people separating you from him in line. Slowly, they started to dwindle. Hoseok was patiently waiting for you, wondering what the hell the holdup was, and why you were being so indecisive. Several minutes of pretending like picking out food was difficult, Hoseok was at the tray of food that you were currently stopped at. He watched as you meticulously scooped out the meat, but didn’t bother with the vegetables. “Poor vegetables,” Hoseok tsked, using tongs on a serving of japchae. “Being left behind like that, unable to provide proper nutrients.” You turned on your heel, mouth already parted around a smart retort, when you grew completely still. The last person you were expecting to see was the guy from the Bizarre. Hoseok. You’d remembered everything the following day after the club, somewhat embarrassed and ashamed of yourself, having thought that your behavior had come off as desperate. And perhaps on some level, you were. You vividly recalled being easy for him, that you would have done anything he wanted, if only he’d wanted. “Oh, wow…” you stammered, trying to recover. The real struggle was figuring out what to do with your hands. Put down the plate? Pull him into a hug? That might be a little forward. The both of you were sober and standing under bright lights now. “So, you weren’t kidding when you said you had a wedding to attend.” Hoseok’s quirked his lips, dimples prominent and on full display, “What would be the point of lying about it?” Except everything. “Although, I had no idea that Namjoon was your friend.” You nodded a few too many times, still surprised by his presence. “Well, yeah, he’s like, one of my best friends. How do you know him?” Hoseok mentally scrolled through his index of Namjoon’s relatives. Some for reference, others for excuses. Distant relatives, family who’d responded to the FB post to regretfully inform the grooms that they couldn’t make it. The redhead smiled once it clicked perfectly into place. “We’re cousins, actually. Last time I saw Namjoon we were in diapers. My mom – well, Aunt Soo, couldn’t make it though.” Jeongguk was the first to come and check on you, your crew of overprotective friends once again coming to your rescue. The younger pouted visibly, “You’re taking forever, noona, and I’d like to eat sometime this century.” He blinked his large doe eyes at Hoseok, just now noticing him standing there. “No shit. Hey.” “Hi,” Hoseok practically bit out, finding it difficult to adjust to Jimin’s new boy toy. It took every ounce of self-control to remember that the entire evening was an act, one that he had to skillfully play through in order to get the bonus ending. He smoothed out his expression with that in mind, smiling tartly, “Jimin told me that you left this morning. I was like, wow, this guy is really fucking quiet. Creeper quiet, B&E quiet. Hide grandma’s good silverware quiet…” Jeongguk flashed him a confident smirk. “Your opinion is important to Jimin hyung and I didn’t want you to judge me too quickly.” “What’s there to judge?” Hoseok asked, dropping his eyes down at his plate, a partial lie slipping through a little less convincingly than all the others. “I’m glad that Jimin is happy.” Just not with you. Not with some guy that Hoseok could easily resonate with, their darkness matching in pitches – an asshole recognizing another asshole. “Come sit with us,” you offered, looking up at Jeongguk for confirmation that it was indeed a good idea. He seemed just as eager to have Hoseok join. “Yeah, hyung…” The ‘hyung’ a bit awkward from out of Jeongguk’s mouth, since it was the first time he’d used it. All for the sake of mannerisms.   The table consisted of the groom’s closest friends, Taehyung seated amongst them. Hoseok purposefully sat across from him, wanting to see firsthand what Yoongi saw in the boy, since he hadn’t the faintest idea apart from the visual appeal.   “Oh,” Taehyung breathed, somewhat stunned to see Hoseok sitting there in front of him. Seokjin, who was seated next to him, looked just as surprised, if not annoyed. Hoseok shot both men a wink, a coy smile gracing his lips. The last time he and the groom saw one another, it had been less than favorable. He figured there was still time to mend their relationship with some cringey aegyo bullshit. Hoseok could be cute and over the top when he wanted to be. “Small world,” Seokjin said with a huff of disbelief – like he’d spent years finally getting rid of Hoseok, but there he was again. “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but why…?” You squeezed in on the opposite side of Taehyung, head leaned against his shoulder. “He’s Namjoon’s cousin,” you said, a little excited about the discovery. Here you’d thought you’d never see Hoseok again, just to find out that he was tied to your best friend’s family. You didn’t believe in fate, but this came pretty close. “Aunt Soo’s son.” “Really?” Seokjin asked, immediately dropping the iciness in his tone. Gently nudging his new husband, he inquired, “What was your Aunt Soo’s son’s name again?” Hoseok’s laugh was infectiously loud, a disruption. It was enough to startle you from your spoonful of jjiggae. He was expecting this much, answering with ease like a well studied test, “It’s Bumkun, but I don’t really like to go by that name. It’s sort of impractical in my line of work.” Jeongguk peered over at him, genuinely curious. “What is it that you do exactly?” Namjoon frowned after a seconds worth of digesting the information. He raised a hand up to pause the conversation, “Wait, wait, wait a damn minute. You’re Bumkun?” “Technically,” Hoseok started, trying to bite back his amusement. Technically – he was Bumkun tonight. It was an unfortunate name and Hoseok would really hate for you to end up calling him by it, or anyone else for that matter. “…I’m happy that I was able to make it today. I haven’t seen you…” “In a long time,” Namjoon said, finishing the sentence. He reached his hand out for a bro’s embrace. “Man, how’s your mom?” Fuck, who knows? Hoseok took his hand, holding onto him. “You know, so-so. Still working on the farm.” “See? We gotta move her up here. The country air is good for her, sure, but she’d do better financially if she lived by the ocean,” Namjoon said and you could tell that he was about to list off all the reasons as to why fishing was a wealthier business, and thus more imperative. It would result in a long tangent that had the potential of lasting for hours. Desperate to change the topic, you turned to Hoseok, “You still didn’t answer Guk’s question. What is it that you do, Bummie?” For whatever reason, you thought that teasing Hoseok would be a good idea. You knew you’d thought wrong, when Hoseok narrowed his eyes at you then. It wasn’t unlike drowning in a dark abyss, falling without any hope of ever reaching the end. The intensity within that single glance alone was enough to send a violent chill down your spine. “Hoseok,” you said, rectifying your mistake. “Wait,” Namjoon paused, using his grip on the redhead to lean in over the table, undeterred by the fact that Hoseok was still burning you through. “Aunt Soo said that you couldn’t make it, because you weren’t granted military leave.” Hoseok grew still – now, he’d played tons of roles in order to secure his past lies. Luckily for him, he’d watched Descendants of the Sun a grand total of four times from start to finish. It wasn’t quite the same thing and he had zero past experience to speak of, considering the fact that he’d personally seen to the sabotage of his own future enlistment. Fuck it. Why not give it a whirl? Taehyung raised one of his thick eyebrows, “This guy?” It was absurd thinking that someone fresh from the military could also be the irresponsible bastard from just the night before. “At the last second, I was permitted to leave,” Hoseok said, starting to shovel in some of his food, before it got cold. Maybe he should have felt a little insulted by Taehyung’s obvious bout of disbelief, but eh – he didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he’d left the best impression on any of them anyway, including you. Jeongguk nodded, seeming to understand the situation a bit better, “You’ve been in the service this whole time? Jimin hadn’t mentioned that to me.” ‘Who are you? His fucking keeper?’ Hoseok wanted to snap, but alas, he had to swallow it with a glass filled high with soju. Instead, he replied, “Jimin is soft.” Then it started to dawn on him that one too many people were involved for his farce to carry on seamlessly. Eventually, he would be found out. If not today with Namjoon and his questioning, then later when Jimin would gracelessly choke on the mention of his new military career. It was only a matter of time. “And he’s also not the type to discuss my business with perfect strangers.” Mm, perfect strangers… He wondered how much Jeongguk enjoyed that wedge he placed between them. Could he feel it, the very tangible, arguably unnecessary hate coming from Hoseok? Well, he fucking hoped so. The rest of the table talk revolved around Hoseok’s time in the service, coming up with the most absurd stories; that time when he was exposed to gas as a part of training, the asshole instructors, and the slow climb from trainee to becoming a private – the battalion that had become his home. Every now and then, Hoseok would lift his eyes to meet yours, catching you watching him, but he didn’t react how one usually does when confronted head-on. He didn’t bother with smiling or flashing you his dimples. No brows were raised in question, no basking in your embarrassment. He simply held you there, taking you in with such slow deliberateness, that you felt the dull familiar ache of arousal at the pit of your stomach. He didn’t even have to touch you in order to rile you up. A rush of excitement started to settle in when the room cleared out. Hoseok was trailing after you towards the reception hall, bringing his bottle of soju along with him, which was odd since there was an open bar waiting for him in the other room. Every time you looked over your shoulder to see if he was still there, you found him staring directly at you, coming closer with sure steps, until you made a point to stop. He mimicked the action, paused. For a long moment, that’s all that it was, leaving an insufferable space between you and him. Your world turned monochromatic, black and white for the exception of his too red hair, and smart ensemble. You just noticed how your own attire matched him in color and noise – you’d been inspired, for whatever reason not to be typical. As a result, you looked like you were his, and that wasn’t such a bad thought, being Hoseok’s… Taehyung was the one to pull you from your reverie. He took you by the wrist, intending to lead you towards the table that seated Namjoon and Seokjin, when he gave the redhead a backwards glance, “Hoseok, you’ll fit at the table with us, too.” He would fit, too? This really wasn’t how Hoseok saw his night progressing. Lingering in one place for too long wouldn’t be good for him and yet there you were, so wonderfully transparent and receptive to him. His little hook, line, and sinker. He knew that he could have you with minimum effort on his part. In many aspects, he felt that he already did, just not where it mattered. Not yet. Unable to deny the level of expectancy that Taehyung was putting out, Hoseok had no other choice, but to join you at the table, where Seokjin was trying to land one of his dad jokes. Unable to laugh, even with his boundless sense of humor, all Hoseok could do was cringe. They were that fucking awful. Namjoon seemed to be enamored by the elder, resting his cheek against his palm, like he was falling in love all over again, listening to another joke. Hoseok was almost relieved when the wedding toasts came early, since it put an end to Seokjin’s tirade. They were given by an awkward assortment of people. Namjoon’s family was weird, but the good kind of weird. His sister was the first one to go, a sweet little thing that Hoseok wasn’t allowed to go near due to his borrowed identity. The only person to speak for Seokjin was a friend and Jeongguk seemed eager to have that responsibility, casting pointed looks. Hoseok could tell that the kid wasn’t used to these types of things, mumbling throughout his speech, but finishing strong. The chaebol bastards almost seemed beside themselves with guilt. Almost.   He really didn’t want or need a reason to like Jeongguk. You were the last person to give your toast and from the endeared looks of all your friends, it was probably the right choice. “I’d like to point out that I called this…” You gestured between Seokjin and Namjoon. “I was the one to say it, five years ago on the night that these two first met. We were fresh from our graduation ceremony. I told Changsub, wherever he is…” Changsub held up his wine flute, so that you could find him. You pointed at him, the two of you subtly hyping one another, “And I said, ‘Namjoon is going to fall in love tonight’ and I’d hoped that it would be some romantic, Lion King type o’ stuff…” Hoseok was about to dispute this, because Lion King was fucking tragic, you monster. Instead, he lowered his gaze at you, fighting against the smirk that was already tugging at the corners of his lips. Captivated by your energy, he was interested in seeing where you were going with this.       “Seokjin, the moment you opened your mouth, I knew that you were Namjoon’s equal. You were talking way, way too much, and way too fast.” Everyone seemed to share a laugh at that, knowing from experience. “Your intelligence matched Joonie’s so well and that isn’t something I’ve ever recognized in any other person. You do it in a cool way, not in the nerdy way like he does it. You’re nicer about making people feel dumb.” You waited until the loud guffaws (mainly Namjoon’s) had quieted down, before you continued on a serious note, “No, but like, Namjoon does this thing, where he closes his eyes when he laughs. He does it all the time, to the point where people accuse him of being disingenuous, but that’s not true. Seokjin, you cracked a joke that night. Do you remember what it was?” You could tell that he didn’t, so you gave it to him, “What do you call a fake noodle?” Seokjin squinted, finding it difficult to remember the answer. You were still amazed that you could, that you did, and that your useless brain managed to hold onto a copy. “An impasta…” Namjoon said, before dying against his chair. How ironically fitting given his current predicament, Hoseok mused. “Seokjin told this joke and for the first time in a long while, Namjoon didn’t close his eyes when he laughed, and I knew. I knew it then. He doesn’t close his eyes when it comes to you. Thank you for coming into his life,” you said, trying to calm the shaking in your voice. “You’re two of the greatest men that I know and I love you guys. Please spend the rest of your lives happy.” How sweet. Hoseok clapped his hands together in a slow yet sharp succession, like the snapping of teeth. The entire room lit up for you, aside from Seokjin’s family, of course. They were too busy finding bigger sticks to shove up their rich, pampered asses. He fell deeper into his observation of you, dropping his cheerful expression for something more glacial and calculative. Tonight, you were a beacon, drawing him in close, despite the distance he’d specifically placed in order to separate you both. There were other women there, obviously – some of them prettier than the summer lilies back in Gwangju, but Hoseok was having a difficult time being super-fucking-ficial at the moment. He chose to avoid the dance floor, which was a pity, but he needed to strategize on how he was going to get laid tonight without interacting with any other living person.   You scooted your chair out when Taehyung offered you his arm, claiming that you were overdue for a twirl. Namjoon and Seokjin had already shared their first dance and were well into their third by then. You’d been holding off, expecting Hoseok to ask you, but it was starting to become obvious that it wasn’t going to happen. You were grateful that the song was slow, Taehyung’s large hands finding your waist, and bringing you against the firm line of his body. You were never one to resist your friends, weak for them – the affection welcomed, soothing your silent cry for it. You dug your fingers into his shoulders, hoping that you were well hidden from Hoseok’s scrutiny. “You okay?” Taehyung asked, the deep timbre of his voice laced with genuine concern. The question almost threw you off a little.   You raised your head toward him, but were unable to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You held him closer to you, trying your best not to sound so sad. “I was just thinking about how the wedding turned out really nice.” He grew silent, dark brown eyes searching you for what had felt like a long eternity. You wondered what the hell you’d end up giving away to him in the process. Taehyung’s stare differed from most, because he stole – literally stole whatever he needed from you, and if he knew you well to top it off, then you were as good as screwed. “You were happy seeing Hoseok again,” he stated, accusingly. The slow, rhythmic sway of your bodies had come to a stop. “You really like him? He looks bougie and practically reeks of the typical fuck boy aesthetic. It’s a bad combo.” Taehyung’s friendship was much like Jeongguk’s, both possessive and suffocating. You could handle it in small doses, but it was twice as overwhelming when Taehyung took your face into his palms, and forced you to finally look at him. “Even if you choose not to answer me, I can see it very clearly. I know you.” You briefly shut your eyes at that last bit, allowing Taehyung’s word to pick you apart. You placed your hands atop his own for stability, listening intently as he continued, “I haven’t told you this, but one of Hoseok’s friends picked him up the other night. He’s from Daegu. A bit short, but you know how I find that sort of thing cute, especially when they’re bound to top me…” You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “So?” “So, I wouldn’t mind it if you and Hoseok got along together,” Taehyung finished, dropping his hands from your face to recapture your hands, remembering to move you along with the music. “Even if it is a recipe for disaster.”   “Wow! What a relief to know that I have your permission,” you said, sarcastically.   He took wider steps, taking in the way you smiled at the rush of movements. “Besides, I’m sure that Guk had the same thought already. The more the merrier when it comes to further entwining himself with Jimin.” You’d nearly forgotten all about Jeongguk’s interesting evening. A good friend would have checked in with him, maybe seen how it went. Well, most likely, considering the fact that he’d been in good spirits all night, shedding himself of the perpetual cloud that seemed to loom overhead wherever he followed. Jeongguk was practically glowing, giving you the impression that he’d had his fill, and then some. Taehyung skimmed his fingers down the length of your spine, “Let’s test Hoseok and see how long it takes for him to snap, hm?” Each time Taehyung looked over at the redhead sitting alone at the table, his eyes had been trained on you, contempt easily discernible. “There’s no point. He’s not even interested,” you argued, feeling somewhat irritable about it. Taehyung grew serious, “You wanna bet?” You snorted, because really – really, nothing was going to happen. Then the younger was giving you his bedroom eyes. Taehyung was attractive. One of the most gorgeous men you’d ever seen. Your mouth went dry when he spoke to you in a voice like velvet, “I always thought you were pretty, noona. Too pretty for your own good.” He emphasized his statement with the soft brush of his knuckles against your cheek, putting on a full performance that had laughter bubbling up inside your chest. He hissed through his teeth, scolding you, “Be serious or else this won’t work.” You pressed your hand on his chest, trying to prevent him from coming in any closer. The space between your lips and his own was already compromised, your breaths mingling. You whispered to him, “What should I be doing?” “Closer, noona,” Taehyung murmured, softly. You were both already so close – close enough to taste the alcohol on his breath. His eyes flickered to something past your shoulder, “You should see the look on his face right now. He looks like he was set on fire. So, if I die tonight, know that you were the one responsible.” Taehyung was trying his best to cheer you up, the least you could do was play along, childish antics or not. There would be no harm in doing this much. A little closer, he’d said? You fisted the front of his shirt, using it as leverage to pull him down the rest of the way. Taehyung’s mouth curled into a boxy smirk right before he captured your lips into a kiss that appeared hungry and consuming to anyone peering in from the outside. Meanwhile, your mind was wandering to other things, like what it would be like if Hoseok’s veins did house fire. If his every touch would scorch you all the way through, right down to the very marrow – if he’d set you ablaze as opposed to the frigid cold that you had succumbed to a long time ago. Your grip on Taehyung’s button up faltered. It was back to the frost that awaited you, off to that place where you felt nothing. When Taehyung parted from you, it was with a harsh breath. You were quick to compose yourself, eager to see the lie for yourself – the lie in which Hoseok cared, and that whatever you did mattered to him. You turned in the direction of the table to find Hoseok’s chair abandoned, catching a glimpse of him walking out of the hall. “You better go get that,” Taehyung said, smug in the fact that he’d been correct. “Be sure to thank me later.” There was no way in hell that Hoseok’s reaction was due to the kiss you shared with Taehyung. No – you weren’t convinced, however if that was the case, then you were obligated to chase after him, right? Although, why would he care? You’d only met him twice and you hardly knew each other. All you had was a very palpable tension, which really wasn’t enough to establish anything.           You stepped out into the main lobby, calling out to him, “Hoseok, wait.” The sound of your voice seemed more desperate, as it echoed back. He paused in his steps, affording you enough time to catch up. You stood so that you were in front of him, obstructing his path – unprepared for the weight of his stare then, dark and accusatory. Maybe Taehyung was right? Hoseok looked furious, but surely it wasn’t because of you.   “Where are you going?” you asked, wanting to confirm his reason for leaving.   His response was immediate, “Go back inside.” You shook your head at him, “The whole point of me dramatically following after you is so that I can stop you from leaving.” The muscle in his jaw ticked in annoyance, teeth clenched. “And I’m leaving, so that I can prevent myself from making a scene.” Probably not the best moment to be flippant with your responses, but, “I think you’ve already accomplished that with your suit.” He laughed, humorlessly, “Yeah, you have five seconds to head back in by your friends.” “Or else you’ll do what?” you asked, trying to ignore the thrill of being threatened by him. You were never one for following orders.   “God, look at you…” he said, tucking his hands into the pocket of his slacks as he stepped closer. You made no plans to move away from him. He tilted his head at you with bitter intrigue. “Too stubborn to heed my warnings? Come now. You’re a smart girl. You should go with your instincts and run while you still can.” You rolled your eyes at him, thoroughly done, “This is how you’ve chosen to spare me? Well, you can save that self-deprecating bullshit for someone else.” He grew still at the iciness in your tone, mentally bracing himself for the next sentence out of your mouth. “Did you think that I wanted the heroics, to be saved, to be courted?” You patted your hand against his chest, right over his heart, “As if I would ever dream of scaring you off with the threat of commitment, Hoseok.” He narrowed his eyes at you, carefully. “Do you enjoy getting hurt?” “No, quite the opposite, actually. I just want to feel good again.” He searched your eyes, before quickly grabbing you by the hand that was still on his chest, using his grip to pull you deeper inside the lobby. There was a semi secluded area covered with framed artwork and large roman pillars. You’d found yourself hidden behind the one furthest in the back where the lighting was most scarce. If Hoseok was being honest with himself, girls like you frightened the shit out of him. It wasn’t difficult to spot the potential of forever in another person, especially upon first meeting them. Everyone tried to sell the best version of themselves, before ever allowing their flaws to shine through. You kept proving to be real and unfiltered, and it was that reason alone that made Hoseok want to take his own advice – to stay the hell away from you. He even opted to leave the reception, too overcome with jealousy that he had no right to be feeling. He pressed your body against the cool surface of the pillar, while long, ring adorned fingers slid around the front of your throat. He took in the anticipatory tremble of your lips – your breaths too short, before he inhaled you into his lungs. Parting his mouth against yours, it was all light contact and stolen air. Hoseok was so slow in his approach with you, because he knew that his resolve was about ready to break, and that he’d forget to savor your act of submission. It was unusual for Hoseok not to be drunk during occasions such as these, yet there he was, hardly even buzzed from his bottle of soju. Fuck – he wanted to hate you so badly. It would be easier on the both of you that way. He tightened his grip around your throat, determined to swallow each pitiful gasp and whimper you made just for him, enticed by it. But then he wondered if you’d ever made the same sound for Taehyung. How many of your friends weren’t able to keep their fucking hands to themselves? You moved your jaw in languid rhythm against his own, moaning softly when he teased his tongue past your lips. The empty space made even the smallest of noises too loud and amplified. You tried your damndest to be quiet, until Hoseok was suddenly a force. The back of your head met the stone surface with a dull thud when he’d surged forward. The incessant press of his hips kept your body pinned between the pillar and his body. It felt like you were drowning, a startled gasp echoing when he pulled at your lips with the slow drag of his teeth. Your hands went to the top of his arms, seeking purchase, “Hoseok…” He gripped your face and turned your head to the side, fingers roughly digging into the line of your jaw to keep you still for him. Tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, he left you exposed to the tickling warmth of his breath, “I gave you so many chances to leave, but you didn’t listen…” His mouth caressed your skin for each syllable, as he spoke evenly, “Should I fuck you right here? What if your friends were to overhear their little princess begging for my cock?” “Shut up,” you warned, growing silent from just the thought of it. You felt his teeth when he grinned into the side of your neck, thoroughly pleased with himself for striking a nerve. The air in the room grew thick with tension and for awhile, you could even hear your own pulse. He’d actually shut up. You were about to question it, when he took your earlobe into his mouth, suckling loudly. The diamond studded earring you wore kept catching on his teeth. Each touch felt inescapable, as he started to mouth at the side of your neck, working his tongue in wet circles over your skin, purposefully sucking down hard enough to leave bruises. Your hand covered his own, trying to pry his fingers from your face, but it was useless. “Stop marking me,” you gasped, inwardly seething when he nipped at you in response. The heat in your lower stomach had long since pooled over – your thighs rubbing together tightly. You could feel the mess of already being soaked through, your walls clenching around nothing each time he swiped his tongue across your skin. You quivered, body betraying you, “You’re the worst...” “Awe, but you already knew that about me,” he said, mock-pitying you as he pulled back far enough to inspect his work and felt satisfied with all the pretty red splotches covering the delicate line of your neck. He’d love to see Taehyung’s face the second he eyed them up. Hell, even Seokjin’s reaction, being the overprotective bastard that he was… “True and as much as I appreciate all the foreplay, we have to be quick.” Your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed and you both knew it. You dropped your hand to his belt buckle and had it undone with admirable speed. Hoseok hardly had time to be impressed, when he smoothed his hands down your sides, hiking your dress up on his way back to your waist. He then reached into his pocket for his wallet and removed the condom packet, tearing it open with his teeth like he’d done countless times before. You leaned against the pillar, allowing him to guide your leg around his hip. You could smell yourself, thick and heady, as the cool air swept over the arousal coating your inner thighs. “You’re so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, voice torn as he stroked his fingers over the red lace of your panties, lightly grazing your swollen clit with his thumb. He gauged your reaction, watching as you sucked in your bottom lip to hold in all your sounds. “Such a good girl you are…” he cooed his appraisal, taking in an audible breath and there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Hoseok could smell you, too – his eyes darkening, pupils dilated into two stones of black. It felt like you were in trouble. Unzipping his slacks, Hoseok rolled the condom between his fingers. He was ready to have you – to sink into you slowly, to stretch you open, until – Jimin flashed at the forefront of his mind, the little prick, reminding him not to ruin the evening. You’d made it clear that you didn’t want anything more than this moment. This was textbook. Hoseok had his share of women and men, left behind a long, miserable trail of broken hearts, and failed expectations. You were just another number, one more fuck, and it didn’t matter that you already felt perfect to him. You were open and soft for him, which kinda pissed him off.     He seized you by the throat again, desperate almost, when his lips parted over yours – delving his tongue in deeply, filling you up. You breathed through your nose, bringing your hands to the side of his face, skimming his cheekbones with your fingertips. He rolled his hips against your own, the hard outline of his cock pressing into you firmly. You could kiss him forever, if time allowed it, but it didn’t and it felt like he was stalling. You went to tug at his briefs, when he caught your wrist midway – applying enough force for it to be considered painful. Hoseok released you slowly, your leg slipping from his body in the process. You watched as he took a couple steps backwards. Unable to look at you, he focused on tucking his shirt back into his slacks, before he adjusted his belt. Long, slender fingers brushed his blood red hair back into place. Despite how calmly he collected himself, Hoseok was about ready to fucking lose it. Any words or questions you currently had for him felt trapped, like they wouldn’t properly formulate past your lips. Your lungs burned, chest heaving for air that seemed to come in too slow. You were too stunned in the wake of what had seemed like obvious rejection and it made you feel sick to your stomach. You pushed your dress down over your legs with shaking fingers. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything for himself. You returned the sentiment, as you wordlessly rounded the pillar. Hoseok hadn’t bothered with stopping you, too busy searching his pockets for his phone so that he could get the fuck out of there. He must’ve left it on the table in the reception hall. Oh, well for a smooth getaway. He gave you enough time to leave and space that you didn’t require, but would have in abundance from him anyway, before he headed back inside the hall. He dodged Namjoon’s family as though they were the plague, laughing obnoxiously whenever they approached him. He walked briskly towards the table where his phone was waiting for him. There really was no need for him to stick around, avoiding making any eye-contact. He could always step outside to set up an Uber. You returned from the bathroom, having calmed yourself down some, ready to face the party. Taehyung patted the seat between him and Namjoon. You joined them, allowing Taehyung to pull you against him. You only had a few moments of peace, before the younger would notice that something was wrong. You felt numb, as Hoseok was getting ready to take off.   It would be rude to leave without saying goodbye – cousins and all. Hoseok extended his hand to Namjoon, congratulating him one last time. After this, he’d make sure not to fuck around with these people. They made him feel weird, confusing things.   “Man, you’re going already?” Namjoon asked him, disappointment evident in his voice. “We were about to cut the cake. It’s bad luck if every person doesn’t have a piece.” Seokjin corrected him. “That’s only with birthdays.” Taehyung was doing his job of overanalyzing you. He’d assumed that things were going well when you didn’t immediately return after following Hoseok out. He’d even held Jeongguk off from finding you, hushing Seokjin’s curiosity just to buy you some alone time. Maybe he was wrong for doing so, sensing the tension between you and the redhead, and determined the outcome for himself. Namjoon’s family or not, Hoseok was walking on thin ice. “The ride back to base is going to be long and exhausting,” Hoseok said, back to smiling too wide and absurdly, as though it would somehow help to better conceal the blatant lie. “You don’t wanna know what happens when we don’t meet curfew.” Namjoon nodded, understandingly. “Alright. Well, it was nice seeing you. Tell Aunt Soo about moving up here. I’d help her get settled in.” Hoseok was about ready to respond, when he heard Seokjin’s, ‘Who the hell is that?’ He followed the groom’s eyes towards a young guy dressed in army fatigues who was currently hugging onto Namjoon’s mother. He waved his arm in a spastic manner at Namjoon, eager to rush on over once he was freed from the embrace. Fucking Bumkun. The redhead tried pulling away, but Namjoon was still holding onto his hand. It seemed like he was unwilling to let him go now more than ever, making it seem possible that the groom had doubted Hoseok since the very beginning, which was a terrifying thought. He tried once more to remove himself, but Namjoon wasn’t budging. Truth was that Hoseok didn’t want this to happen in front of you, not after the piece of shit move he’d just pulled. He also didn’t want it to go down right in front of your friends. He’d have to continue seeing Jeongguk after this fuck up, serving as an unpleasant reminder of the lives he’d meddled in.   The guy held out both hands, expectantly, “Namjoon!” Contemplative, the groom decided to give it a try. He had a feeling, “Bumkun?” The guy’s face lit up, “Yeah, man! Hey, I know I’m late, but I made it.” Hoseok’s head fell back with a groan, “Fuck.” Seokjin’s eyes were about the size of saucers, as he stood up from his chair. He pointed a finger at Hoseok, “Who the hell is this, then?” Jeongguk snorted, unhelpfully, “Not Bumkun?” “Taehyung…” Hoseok heard you say in warning, your voice tight and raw with emotion. Ah, yes. Taehyung. It was a moment later that Hoseok found himself being ripped from out of Namjoon’s grasp and was roughly turned to face the younger. Taehyung was a big guy. Hoseok couldn’t help but wonder what the outcome of a real fight would have been if he hadn’t chose to stand there, waiting patiently for the violence. “Taehyung, don’t…” you tried, as you shot up from your seat in a desperate attempt to put a stop to it. Whether you were trying to protect him or the mood of the party, Hoseok couldn’t tell. A part of him hoped it was the latter, for your sake. Sadly it was too late for all your good intentions, when Taehyung wound his arm back, and let his fist fly forward, bone meeting bone with a sickening crack. Hoseok fell to the hardwood floor, palms flat against its surface where he caught himself. The last thing he recalled before slipping into total darkness was the warm, comforting touch of your small fingers. You were cradling his head in your lap, murmuring his name.   He tried telling you he didn’t deserve you. He fucking tried. Seeing red still, Taehyung had to excuse himself, before he went on a goddamned rampage. He scooped up Hoseok’s phone on his way out. The summer air did little for his temperament, since he was already so hot with anger. It was rare that the younger was ever this livid, but once it happened, it was nearly impossible to set him back to normal right away.   Taehyung pressed on the familiar name in Hoseok’s contacts and clicked Call. After a few rings, the background noise of a fan indicated that someone had answered. “It’s too early for you to be calling your hyung like this, ‘Seok-ah,” rasped Yoongi, who was nice and snug under his many layers of blankets. Taehyung shut his eyes and swallowed thickly against the familiar gravel in the blonde’s voice, “I guess I couldn’t help myself.” “Mm, guess not,” Yoongi said, sitting himself up in bed at the sound of Taehyung’s baritone. “You don’t have to keep stealing Hoseok’s phone just to talk to me, you know. You could always just give me your number.” Taehyung sighed deep from within his chest, trying to let go of some of his anger – failing. “You’re right. Sexting would get awkward if it had to be done using your piece of shit friend’s piece of shit phone.” The profanities tended to flow freely whenever Taehyung was this upset. “Did you fucking know that he was going to come here and crash my friend’s wedding today?” Yoongi paused, feeling his blood run cold when the realization dawned on him. “No, I didn’t know, and even if I did, there would be no reasoning with him. So, where is he now?” “Knocked the fuck out is where he is and I’m not sorry,” Taehyung said, as he uncurled his swollen fist, his knuckles already bruising. He’d wanted to break Hoseok with one punch. “I’m calling you, because I’d like it if you would come and get him.” Yoongi already knew why it had to be him, but he couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. “Jimin would be a better choice in this situation, being Hoseok’s roommate and all. Why does it have to be me?” “Are you really playing with me right now?” Taehyung asked, somewhat incredulous, too riled up to care about the consequence of his answers. “You know it’s because I want to see you again and I know…I know that you want to see me, too. I’ll text you the address.” Yoongi heard the call end and dropped his arm back down to the sheets. He was tired of Hoseok’s shit, but for once something interesting could blossom from it. The thought of Taehyung, so beautiful and strong, punching his best friend into the next realm was oddly erotic. He could hardly contain his smile, laughing into the quiet of his dark room. ‘Oh, Hoseok. You fucking idiot.’

TBC

[kitten1618x]

So Many Spoilers And Yet, Jonsa Is Still Endgame

Okay my loves. Everyone close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath. Better? No? Well then, let's continue ...

It seems that no matter where you turn, the internet has been brimming with GoT spoilers. Some seem plausible, some utterly ridiculous, others written like straight up fanfiction. Since then, my inbox has been flooded with nervous Jonsa shippers, and while I would love to answer each one of you individually, I'm only one person. That doesn't mean you should stop sending me asks -at the risk of repeating myself, I've just decided to compile all of my current thoughts here.

Here's your warning right now that this post contains SPOILERS. Whether or not they are factual spoilers, remains to be seen.

Something smells funny

The whole way this leaks situation has unfurled is quite ...odd. Supposed spoilers of the whole season have been available on Reddit for months now, and yet HBO was mum about the whole thing until just a few days ago. Now they are claiming to have been hacked (which I actually do believe), yet they only confirm that episode 4's script was hacked. I've seen it, and it seems plausible -yet it was only one scene (is the entire episode going to be just one scene??). Why they still haven't spoken about the rest of the alleged leaks seems silly to me -especially since so far they have lined up with the show we've seen -minus context, of course. It would be so simple (especially in light of the recent hack job) to just release a public statement -"yeah, we fucked up but we're stepping up security." WHY WON'T THEY ADDRESS THE LEAKS? We all know they know that they're out there. Just something for you to marinate on.

Boatbang

So I'm not going to mince words. I've already stated on several occasions that I'm 97% sure that boatbang is going to happen (although the percentage varies, I'm still pretty positive it's inevitable). I know it's disheartening for Jonsa shippers, because on some level we feel like Jon is being unfaithful to Sansa, but in reality he's not. Sansa is his half-sister. We know it to be otherwise, but the characters do not. Until that little nugget drops, prepare for this ship to go submarine mode -as in humming just under the water's surface (torpedoes armed and ready to sink the SS Targcest).  

Why Jon, why?

There are several things to consider here. Dany is an attractive woman, and Jon is not blind -she's also not his sister. Yes, yes, we know she's his aunt -but again, he doesn't. If he's injured and she saves his life (depending on what leaks you believe, I suppose -yes, several versions are floating around) -he may feel gratitude to her -or sympathy if she lost one of her "dragon children" saving his life. There's also the Targ connection which might be mistaken for something deeper than just familial, and that whole pesky incest gene working against him.

My personal opinion is it will be good old fashioned lust. So here's this lovely woman, with powerful Dragons who agrees to help him in his cause. They just got their asses kicked and are facing some pretty grim odds here -he very well may die, poor boys been fighting all his damn life, now he's getting squicky strange urgings for his own "sister", and he's only been laid once in his life! Hell, I'd fuck her too! Especially if I wouldn't be breaking my little "no bastards" vow, and the girl claimed to be barren from a witches curse.

One argument I keep hearing is that it would be so ooc for Jon to do this. Sure, I guess it would. Now take everything I just mentioned above and apply it here. Makes for a better argument, huh? I refuse to fault Jon for having a sexual tryst when he's essentially a free man and could very well just be starved for some simple human affection. If you would hold this against him, it's really just silly.

The bastard who's actually a Prince

Supposedly, the scene of Rhaegar and Lyanna's "legitimate" wedding is going to play immediately after the boatbang concludes -much like the reveal of Jon's true parentage immediately following the Jonsa ramparts scene. You remember, the one where Jon kisses Sansa's forehead for like 20 minutes and then glances down at her lips like he wants to suck her face off? Yeah, that scene that screamed !siblings! 

Now, I've seen people speculating (ahem, the other ship) this is meant to show the audience how J/D are star-crossed lovers, and they're meant to be (and if I shipped them, I'd try to convince myself this as well). But really, it's showing that Jon, the TRUE heir to the Iron Throne has just become his Auntie D's rival, not lover.

Come on, you all know some sort of Targbowl is on the horizon. Through all her loss and heartache, what has kept Dany going? Her claim to the IT. She was born to rule the 7k's ("and she will"). Do you think she'll let Jon and his little pecker stand in the way?

Drogo was her one true love. Remember Dany's visions when she was in the House of the Undying? Of the snowy IT in the destroyed throne room, that was just out of reach, and then of Drogo and Rhaego on the other side of the wall? It makes me feel like Dany will die on the other side of the wall, and that's when she'll be reunited with her family -in the meantime, they wait in purgatory. But, that's a meta for another day.

But I feel like this (below) -the words the witch spoke to her, has something to do with the Long Night and being reunited with Drogo again, in death (the afterlife).

"When the sun rises in the west, sets in the east, when the seas go dry. When the mountains blow in the wind like leaves".

The wall falling? The snow and ice from the mountain would blow in the wind like leaves .... But again, another day for that -back to the topic at hand.

Who's the REAL red herring?

On one hand, we have a very rushed "romance" between two virtual strangers. One of them is currently holding the other against their will ...gosh, this is soooo romantic!  If that was my ship, I'd be kinda pissed. Yeah, they're going to get a sex scene -let them have it. We have endgame.

On the other hand, we have a very slow burn romance simmering in the background. We have ALL the subtle beauty of season 6, and that belligerent sexual tension at the start of this season. If you're shipping them, it's obvious you've seen it too, so I really don't have to list it all -but my GOD, romance tropes GALORE! Slip in all the Ned/Cat parallels, and the exquisite beauty that was the crypt scene with LF ...I mean, come on guys? Do I really have to break this all down for you?

Need more examples? Okay, how about the Tyrion convo in the last episode? Totally appropriate for him to ask Jon about Sansa's wellbeing -so what do we make of the whole "sham and unconsummated" bit that was completely unnecessary if all they wanted to establish to the GA is that Sansa is clever. I sound like a broken record, but if anyone can explain to me how that furthers the narrative in any way, I'm all ears and my inbox is open.

To put it quite simply -it doesn't! But, you can try ....as I said, my inbox is open.

It was solely to remind us of the crypt scene, and Jon's odd behavior concerning Sansa. Just as her cloak on his shoulders -the cloak that he wasn't wearing when he arrived on Dragonstone (nor was he or Davos carrying it) miraculously appeared when he was brooding on the cliffs about what a fool he was. A cookie for anyone who guesses who he was thinking about -maybe the one who told him this was a trap? As he's trapped there now, since Dany took his boat.

And if we didn't already know that Jon will bring Sansa up with Theon next ep., I would have told you that she would come up -as she will when Jon meets the Hound as well. Why? Because the writers want to remind us not to forget about her. They want us to know that she's in the back of Jon's mind through all of this. I wouldn't be surprised if we hear her speak of him more as well. Of course, we never really know what's going on with Sansa, because the people who release the leaks are all closeted J/D shippers.

But let's remember that a red herring is something BLATANT. Ya know, like a rushed romance that's RIGHT IN YOUR FACE -not a submarine simmering under the waves.

Sansa is not Jon's second choice

I'm really tired of hearing this, tbh. If you can't see that these Ned/Cat parallels are meant to show that Sansa and Jon already have that established love and trust factor that Ned and Cat built, then you're willfully blind.

Could a political marriage be what initially puts them together -sure. But with all the clues you've been given from the writers, do you think that they don't already feel the stirrings of love for each other? I mean, it's awkward and odd, but it's there. Clearly, we've only really been shown this through Jon so far, but I'm willing to bet we'll start getting some clues from Sansa by early next season (or maybe even late this season). Remember Bran has not revealed Jon's parentage to anyone, yet. If they were just going to throw them together politically and loveless, then there would be no reason for them to waste precious time (as we're coming to the end and every little bit we see matters) laying the groundwork for a romantic subplot -they'd just do it.

It kind of blows my mind that the same people who say that Jon would never sleep with someone he didn't have some sort of feelings for, thinks he'd enter into a loveless marriage -to sleep with someone he doesn't have feelings for? They'll need heirs after all. You see what I just did there?  ;)

Come on guys, this is Jon

How do you think he's going to react when he finds out he slipped one in his aunt? Probably about as shitty and ashamed as he feels right now, harboring unnatural feelings for his "sister". He's not going to be like -ahh fuck it, I'm half Targ. No biggie! This is Jon-motherfucking-Snow!! He may not be Ned's son, but Stark blood runs through his veins, and he is indeed, a Stark.

Jonsa is endgame. We all know what we saw. There's millions of words worth of metas floating all around Tumblr about it. Casual viewers have seen it. People who don't ship it, have seen it. My husband (who hates it), has seen it. Reviewers have seen it.

It's intentionally subtle, but it's there.

REMEMBER THAT LEAKS LACK ACTUAL CONTEXT!!!

I think I've covered everything, but EVERYONE, please reblog and add your own supporting evidence.

RELAX. Take that collective chill I keep talking about, and find your zen. Enjoy the show. Remember why you started watching it in the first place -it wasn't for Jonsa. Find the silver lining and enjoy Kit's naked bits (because ffs I intend to)!!

Oh, and if I haven't made myself perfectly clear ...Jonsa is endgame, it is known, spread the word. ❤️

[meganmazing]

Fics I Read While On Vacation 2.0!

Last month I went on a trip to Italy, and you know what that means... I downloaded a ton of long fics to keep me sane on the long plane/train journeys, and now I’m sharing a few of my faves with you guys! Pro tip for travelers: DO THIS! When you do’t have reliable wifi, and don’t want to pay for the in-flight wifi, downloading a PDF (or ten) from AO3 is the way to go. Their easy system is one of my favorite features of the site, and has multiple downloading formats other than PDF, too. Plus, they include links back to the work in the PDF so you can go back and comment when you do have wifi! Which you should always do, because authors are a gift, and giving kudos and love in the form of comments in return is a wonderful thing.

This time it’s mainly stevetony, with a few phlint, a cherik series, and one reaper76 (r76) for good measure. And guys. The stony and phlint especially...oh my god. Even when Phil and Clint aren’t the mains, I’m screaming about them. For whatever reason, the Marvel stuff I read his time blew me away, to the point where I’m still thinking about some of the stories, despite it being nearly a month since I got back to the states. One fic genuinely changed me, and I never thought I’d say that without a hint of sarcasm, but here we are. 

Like always, click the bolded titles for the link, and please read the tags on each fic. Even though I tend to steer clear of the truly brutal stuff when I’m on vacation, what squicks you out may not register for me, etc. Remember to throw some love to the works you enjoy, and come scream about them with me anytime <3

Stevetony

Steve Rogers Is A Child by LagLemon  Words: 290k+  Rating: M

Tony gets into fights with Steve all the time and it's driving him insane. Sure, he's not the nicest guy in the world, but all he did was steal a little of the guy's sesame seed bagel - he didn't deserve to get yelled at for something stupid like that.

After drowning his sorrows in hot chocolate and complaining to Pepper about what happened, Tony gets a phone call from Natasha telling him to hurry back home. Something's happened - Steve has been attacked and he's not quite the same man he once was - he's been turned into a child.

With Steve out of commission, the team struggles with what to do and Tony finds himself filling roles he had never expected: babysitter and friend.

THIS is the fic I mentioned in a textpost pretty much immediately after I finished reading. I couldn’t wait for this rec list. My dear friends, this fic gave me a crisis of faith. That’s a tad dramatic, you say? This fic had me rooting for Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark. Winteriron. Yeah. Bucky has an unrequited crush on Tony, and he killed me with it.

Don’t get me wrong, the stevetony here is endgame, and it’s beautiful, but wow. Like. I’m not one to multipship people often - especially not with my top otps - and stony is an og pair of mine. Something about this Tony and this Bucky just...fit? I mean...I think I get it, now. I can see it. You guys win.

I’m still recing this as stevetony, but I had to mention it becasue I’m still in shock weeks after finishing this, and it’s stuck with me. Tony is a character near and dear to my heart, and the story is told from his POV in a way that felt a bit different from the norm to me, and I dig it. Don’t be put off by the child!Steve thing, it’s not forever and it is handled really well in the story. No child sexual/romantic/abuse situations occur. Personally, I would not rec that kind of story.

Falling Into You by sabrecmc     Words: 53k+   Rating: M

Tony and Steve end up as fuck buddies after the events of The Winter Soldier until Steve calls it off. When Loki's spell wipes all of Steve's memories since the last time Loki was in town, Tony decides it will be so much easier to just not tell Steve they had something of a relationship. Spoiler: It isn't.

Or, how Steve fell in love with Tony and forgot about it, and how Tony fell in love with Steve and realized it.

Sometimes, you read a fic that is infuriating, heartbreaking, and sweet all at once, in almost every paragraph (at least for the first three quarters of the story). Tony is at his oblivious, slightly self-destructive best here, and you just want to shake the man, sometimes. Not to worry, I also wanted to shake Steve. It’s equal opportunity obliviousness in this one. The story is told with flashbacks to Tony’s memories of their “fuck buddy” relationship as he remembers them while the present mind-wiped-Steve situation is happening. It was done in a way that felt familiar without feeling redundant, the way this trope sometimes does for me. The ending is so worth it, and melted my heart. 

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc     Words: 292k+  Rating: M

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

Basically one of those bodice-ripping romance novels I don't read (ahem) but with far more gay.

Speaking of melting my heart, this fic obliterated it. When I say Slow Burn, I mean it. Oh my sweet lord, do I ever. But you NEED this one if Stevetony is your thing, trust me. It’s AU in the best ways, and uses so much from the first Iron Man movie, as well as the Captain America movies and general MCU. Steve and Tony are painfully true to their characters at times, which brings both the good pain and the bad pain, the way you know you love. Fluff and plenty of angst, along with gorgeous tension and resolutions, and can I just have more of this world? Please? Forever? What is the team up to now? How is everyone? We got two novels worth of story, and I still want more of this universe!

The phlint really is blink-and-you-miss-it, but I am a sucker for the little nods and they made me happy. Also, there are the beginnings of Bucky and Tony being good friends, and I am so here for that friendship right now. 

Deep in the Heart of Me by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)  Words: 257k+       Rating: E  

There were days when the realization that he was someone’s father made Steve's head hurt, but mostly he was grateful that he could trust his instincts, because apparently Peter was what had been missing from his life. Yes, he still had lingering, unresolved issues from his time in the Army, and sure, he had what Bucky annoyingly referred to as a criminally untapped ass, and no life outside of work and Peter, but Steve was okay with how his life had turned out because of trusting his instincts.

Unfortunately, those same instincts had straight up betrayed him by going absolutely haywire upon being exposed to Tony Stark.

Veteran single dad Steve runs a tattoo shop. For his 40th birthday, Pepper arranges for Tony to get that tattoo he always wanted, and he winds up with the mother of all crushes instead. Jumping out of airplanes is one thing, but falling in love is something else entirely. Steve struggles with the idea of actually letting someone into his life. Tony is left trying to keep his heart from being broken while Steve figures things out.

I have been holding off on this story for a long time. Something about Steve being the adoptive dad to Peter had me skeptical, and the heavy mental health aspects were not something I was eager to deal with when I first saw it.  

That being said, I am so glad I read this. Getting real for a sec, I signed up for a mental health counselling consultation after finishing this. I connected so thoroughly with Steve and his experiences, and of course with Tony, too. But Steve’s journey through this story is honestly on a completely different level of fiction for me. Its heartbreakingly real, and downright visceral at times in the descriptions of how Steve feels, as well as how Tony feels, being in love with a person struggling with mental illness. 

I cannot recommend it enough. 

Aside from that, the love story between Steve and Tony blew me away, and I fell so in love with their love, it killed me. The ending is beautiful, and Peter is such a wonderful part of it. The family dynamics surprised me with how much I loved them too, with all of Steve and Bucky’s dads, and Clint and Nat being a part of their squad in the military, it fit perfectly in the story. Also: Let Tony Be A Good Father Figure 2k18 is my new crusade.

(I even grew to like Clint/Bucky in this. Phil is kind of in the world? Not a part of the main crew, but he cameos, and that was nice. Maybe that’s how I rationalized it in the beginning: Clint doesn’t know Phil, it’s fine! I like Clint and Bucky individually so much that it worked for me.)

Holding Out For A Hero by Wordsplat  Words: 100k+  Rating: T (yeah, I know, cue the comical surprise that one of these is rated Teen and Up) 

When Tony was a prince and Steve was his manservant, they were young and reckless and hopelessly in love. But an attack on Tony's life convinces Steve that he can't protect Tony, so he leaves in the dead of night to train until he can. Ten years later, Steve returns to the kingdom a strong and able knight, but his king is both furious and broken-hearted. 

One of my favorite things is when I get to be unreservedly on Tony’s side when he fights with Steve. Steve’s reasoning is understandable for his character, sure, but BOY. Plus, Tony has the Avengers backing him up too, and I live for the team supporting Tony. In the MCU right now, the team is basically all for Cap, but the lack of multiple, meaningful, interpersonal connections from the team to Tony in those movies is a rant for another day. 

Again, this is another story where the supporting cast has my heart. I also adored the knights being made up of the Avengers, and Bruce’s role, which kicked ass and made me happy. But, this story focuses primarily on Steve/Tony, and their relationship just kills me with how sweet/painful it is in turns. The fluff to angst ratio is spot on.

AND: Tony is a good dad! (LTBAGFF 2k18) 

I love their love.

Go Ugly Early by just_another_tinker  Words: 161k+ (still updating)  Rating: E

He’s The Captain?

This was not good. This was so not good.

There were theories of course, of what The Captain would look like. Most followed the typical Hollywoodesque belief that he was some version of the Godfather, sitting in a dark room with a cigar, commanding his forces with a flick of his wrist. There were even some that even thought that The Captain was not one person, but a whole network of people with eyes and ears everywhere.

The blonde Adonis in front of him was definitely not what Tony was expecting.

Of course, in the end it didn’t matter.

There was a reason no one knew what The Captain looked like.

Because anyone who saw his face never lived to tell the tale.

This is not a finished story, and I am perpetually on the edge of my seat waiting for the next update. I’ve rec’ed cherik Mob/Mafia AUs before, but I’ve never read one with steve/tony and the avengers. I’ll admit, Steve as a mob boss? I was skeptical about how well I’d vibe with it. 

Now? Holy shit, friends, I’m living for it. The aspects of Steve’s character that the author explores are everything I didn’t know I needed. Likewise with Tony, but I’m emphasizing Steve becasue it’s so unlike the usual representation Steve gets in fandom.

Apparently the running theme of this rec list is stories where the team is amazing and important to the story, becasue it’s true here, too. They’re Steve’s crew, becasue naturally. I adore the dynamics between everyone, especially when Tony starts to interact with them on the regular. 

But guys. The phlint in this hit me in the feels so hard, I didn’t see it coming until I was ready to tear up. The writing is so good, I forgot a key aspect of Phil’s arc in the MCU for a split second and I was distraught. Clint has POV chapters (Phil also had one very recently, but I think Clint has more content overall), and so you get into their relationship and all the emotions Clint’s going through, and  and I won’t say more becasue you need to read this one, even if you’re just in it for the phlint.

I know I’m a massive sucker for Clint, and love him wherever he shows up, but this time I’m genuinely impressed. The tags have it as minor/background, but it punched me in the chest like it was the main pair.

Of course, the steve/tony is amazing and addictive, but I had to scream about Clint and Phil for a sec.

Phlint

 First Impressions by raiining   Words: 76k+  Rating: M

Mr. Clint Barton does not like Mr. Phil Coulson. The feeling is not as mutual as he had thought.

A Pride & Prejudice AU.

So, I will be the first to admit that I have a serious affinity for Austen retellings in fanfic. The only downside with is that I tend to be overly picky about them, to the point where I check out fast if something bugs me, even if literately no one else would be bothered, much less notice it in the first place. 

This AU fed my Austen-loving soul and gave me every Phlint thing I’ve ever wanted in an AU like this. Clint’s perspective here is spot-on, and his relationships with Nat and Tony were awesome to read. Not to mention that the author filled character roles perfectly? People were chosen that I wouldn’t have expected but as I was reading I was so on board at every turn, like, yes, of course, this is exactly it! They also twisted the classic P&P story and made it their own, making it fit and make sense for the characters above all, which I absolutely loved. Bookmarked for life. Probably will end up rec’ing this forever.

Phil just breaks my heart, and so does Clint, and I have way too much love for this fic, go read it right now!

And Eternity in an Hour by Selenay   Words: 60k+   Rating: E

He comes from a secret place, far below the city streets, hiding his face from strangers, safe from hate and harm. He brought me there to save my life...and now, wherever I go, he is with me, in spirit. For we have a bond stronger than friendship or love. And although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart.

When Phil Coulson is attacked and left for dead, he is rescued and cared for by an unusual man who looks like a beast. As Phil heals, he learns that Clint is part of a community hidden below the city, where people who don't fit into the world above can live in safety. In time, Phil has to return home, but he vows to change his life and find a happier, better future.

Phil and Clint believe their time together is over, but they are destined to meet again when their worlds begin to collide.

A Beauty and the Beast (TV, 1987) fusion fic.

I’ll be honest, this show was before my time, and while my mom loved it and I know the basics of the story through her, I’ve never actually seen it. That being said...hell yes. I was hesitant, because Clint is right next to Tony for Marvel characters that I hold really close to the chest, and making him a “monster” had me cautious in the beginning. Fuzz, claws, really? Yes. If you’re thinking like me, go for it anyway! This story won me over so quickly, I don’t think I even knew it was happening - suddenly I was hooked.   

It’s alternating POV, with a bit more of Phil, I think, since he’s the character we relate to more, being the outsider character to Down Below. Phil isn’t a secret agent in this, but he’s still a competent badass in that way Phil always is, and he was my favorite from the get-go! Their love story is so sweet, you’ll melt by the end. Also, there are explicit sexy times, and they are great. Plus, body image is dealt with wonderfully without feeling like a PSA.

It’s also not told in first person! I thought it was from that part of the summary, but it isn’t, and I was v happy about that.

The Clockwork Murders by Selenay  Words: 76k+  Rating: M

Phil Coulson has two lives: by day he's a quiet, respectable Edwardian gentleman and his biggest risk is on a hand of cards at his club; at night he's a masked vigilante, fighting to make London safer. Keeping those lives separate is difficult enough when his closest friend is the head of a special task force within the Metropolitan police. It becomes even more difficult when his latest case gets dangerously close to home, bodies start washing up on the banks of the Thames, and Detective Inspector Fury's team is tasked with capturing the vigilante.

Clint Barton, Coulson's new valet, is down on his luck and inexperienced at valeting but his skills from his former life may be exactly what Coulson needs. They just need to negotiate their way through Coulson's secret life and their growing attraction to each other. And save London from a terrifying new threat along the way.

Alright, this fic might just be my absolute favorite out of the whole bunch. Not to say the others are lesser in any way, but I LOVE this one! Edwardian Steampunk has never been my thing, but I guess I can’t say that anymore?!  

One of the best Phil POV’s I can remember, along with a romance that just consumed me. Phil is kinda like an Edwardian Batman with less gadgets and slightly lower social standing? I was so on board. Let Phil Be Batman. I’m starting that campaign right now. Clint is also a bit like Robin, if Robin was also Hawkeye. The slow build of their relationship is delicious, and so, so rewarding when it finally comes to a head (lol). When they finally got together, I actually fist pumped (just a very small, non-distracting one, because I was on a train at the time and didn’t want to look like a complete loon, but that’s how much I loved this story). Phil and Clint are vigilante detectives and Clint gets to be smart! What a novel concept! 

I’m also a massive sucker for AU’s where the Avengers find each other and form a team all on their own. The scenario here is AMAZING and everything I never knew I wanted in an AU team-up. When Nat first showed up, I almost squealed out loud. No shame. Steve and Bucky are off being cops with Fury, off-page, so they’re the only ones missing from the story, but Darcy is here!! Plus, she and Nat have a side thing towards the end, and I am HERE FOR IT. This fic just has me so excited, weeks after I finished it. I’m invested and it hurts. 

You know when I care about the plot of a phlint story, that the plot is genuinely compelling, because usually the phlint is all I care about. And the relationship is the foundation from the start, and always the underlying focus, so no worries for the people in it for the tension/sexytimes.

Cherik

An Ideal Grace by afrocurl and nekosmuse    Words: 86k+   Rating: M

Cherik is one of the few pairings where the No Powers AU’s are some of my favorites. This is one of those times! Both boys have some mental health issues, especially where Erik as concerned, but it handled fairly well. Erik’s mental health specifically is a major arching plot piece, and his therapy sessions are important to his daily life and aren’t just mentioned off-page.

It’s important to say that there is no underage or professor/student relationship between Charles and Erik. There is past professor/student trauma in Erik’s life, but that is always a clearly negative and traumatic aspect of his life, and something he is working towards healing from in the story.  

The only thing that had me a little iffy was the co-dependency between him and Raven, who is his adoptive sister in this, but it is called out, and they are moving forward in this story as well as the sequel. Having those two be siblings instead of her and Charles is a bit different, but I think it worked for the story, even if I still love Raven and Charles as siblings.

The sequel: Love’s Own Crown, I actually think I enjoyed more, since it was less about the identity mix-up and more about their relationship/therapy

Reaper76

The Other One Where Jack is the Gay Roommate by pfaerie  Words: 16k+ Rating: E

Straight guy worries he's being homophobic to gay roommate, realizes he's fallen in love with him. Turns out Gabriel Reyes is fine with Jack Morrison kissing guys if it's him Jack is kissing.

This is kind of a remix of the author’s previous fic of the same name (minus “Other” in the title), but with sexytimes and additional editing. This is the roommate trope at it’s finest. It’s Gabe’s perspective, and in a non-powered/modern day AU, which works 100% to the story’s advantage. Gabe cracks me up, and I liked Widow in this too. All the kudos for the humor and smut! I really love this author’s writing style, especially with the way they write r76′s dynamic.

It’s one of those fics I’d give to a friend who wanted to read r76, but hadn’t before. The angst is mostly “I’m not gay, bro! ...oh wait” kind, plus Gabe just being a pill, not any of the massively heavy and dark content you tend to see with this pair.