#you are as pathetic as the rest of the fans who think the exact opposite and also think they're right and you're wrong

[chirpsythismorning]

bylers when over 350k people don’t have the exact same thoughts and opinions as them

[tokusaatsus]

THAT ALL-ENCOMPASSING FEELING

ft. sakuma ritsu

© tokusaatsus 2022

warnings: mild religious references

Ritsu wonders; have you ever had a five-course meal flaunt itself in front of you? Have your ears ever picked up the thrumming of a pulse, heightened by excitement? Has your mouth ever watered, canines digging into your lower lip as you hold in pools of saliva, prey so close you can practically taste it?

He blinks once, slowly, to break the daydream he’s fallen into—catlike, almost.

He's comparable to a cat in more ways then one. Languid in his movements, like he’s entitled to the world slowing down for him. The Sakumas are like that—one speeding ahead and expecting the rest of the world to play catch-up, and the second the exact opposite.

That was what made them so un-human.

They were so far removed from the limits placed upon mortals that they simply stopped being ones.

His eyes flicker to your lips. Just once, he thinks. Just once, he’d like to indulge himself and have a taste. give in to the longing that tints his thoughts of you. 

What secret flavours do you hold? You’d probably be sweet, icing on a cupcake. His mouth waters, fangs peeking through his smile, as the thought enters his head. He’s not one for gorging himself on sugars, but he wouldn’t mind making an exception for you.

Still, he knows better. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop himself.

Ritsu’s never been a fan of control. Not like his brother, who held himself to rigid standards. It’s simple, really—because no matter how good he is, he’ll never surpass Sakuma Rei. His last name is an anchor, dragging him down.

You make him want, in ways he had never expected.

Was love supposed to feel this way? Because oh, yes, this is love to him; that all-encompassing feeling, the strange urge to protect at war with his instinct to tear apart…

Lovely, Ritsu murmurs under his breath. Lovely, so lovely, too lovely. You’ll burn him up if he isn’t careful. He is something borne from the moon, living sheltered under her watchful gaze. He wasn’t made to enjoy the piercing warmth of the sun, or even anything close to it. Your brightness has captivated him, drawing him to near-certain destruction. And yet he goes willingly, like a moth to a flame. This is what he sees when he sleeps, when he dreams–your silhouette, haloed with rings of fire.

Dangerous, dangerous. Your smile could level cities.

Surely, surely, you are one of those kinder stars. Heaven will have mercy on him just this once and turn its gaze the other way, please let me be happy, even if there is a special place in Hell with his name on it.

Lovely, Ritsu murmurs once again, when your eyes are star-bright and your thigh presses against his; his skin branded where it meets yours.

Hm? Did you say something, Ritsu?

And he just laughs, shakes his head. I was thinking you should let me drink your blood~. You slap his creeping hands away, shoulders shaking with stifled laughter, and Ritsu’s moment of weakness is soon forgotten.

Soon, he promises himself—the cloying sweetness of your scent clogs his nostrils, butterflies dance in his stomach, his dead heart gives a pathetic facsimile of a stuttering beat—soon, he’ll tell you everything.

But for now, Ritsu is content to lie in the shade with his head in your lap and your smile imprinted onto the backs of his eyelids.

notes!

WC: 572 words

reze txt long time no fic. ritsu… he’s interesting. idk. enjoy <3

taglist: @prpne​ @gabirii​ @kazemiya​ @engurishu​ @kkomaism​ @asbestieos​ @mikctp​ @lilikags​ @lolthia​ @unwantedsleep @hasumilvr​ @head-full-of-empty​ @pr3tty-jennie​ @narumika​

[orangepanic]

(Asking politely) directors commentary on The Uniform Bet?

In response to this ask (I'm slowly working through my asks y'all, thanks for your patience!)

Thank you for asking! This is a fic I rarely get questions about so I'm delighted.

I wrote The Uniform Bet as a gift for my friend @chiefbeifongcanrailme. She's maybe the #1 Lin Beifong fan ever, so right away I knew Lin was going to be the center of the fic. I also knew I wanted it to be fairly NSFW because, well, Lin deserves it. But I couldn't really settle on a ship. Lin and Commander Bumi? Lin and Mako? Lin and General Iroh? All worthy relationships that don't get much attention. Then I remembered my audience, and her brilliant fic, Chaos, in which Lin is hot and everyone wants to bang her. And I thought, why re-invent the wheel?

After that, the pieces fell into place mostly on their own. While I don't have quite as much of the "the Gaang were all one big happy family and they all married each other" headcanons as some folks, I do like the idea that Lin and Bumi have known one another a long time. I love them as a 40-year friends-to-lovers arc that starts with them each thinking it's a joke until it's somehow not a joke anymore, and pretty much always write them that way. They're dynamic ships itself.

Of all the characters in this fic, I obviously know General Iroh the best. Because I've largely made him up. And while I love him to death, his style is the exact opposite of Bumi and Lin's sarcastic teasing. Even in a good mood he's too serious. So right off the bat in the first chapter I had Lin and Bumi yukking it up and Iroh having none of it. The rest of the plot sort of fell in around this dynamic. So, what situation would Bumi and Lin let roll off their shoulders that Iroh would take too seriously and pout about?

Going alone to a wedding.

I headcanon Iroh as the romantic. He wants to date someone. Badly. He wants to throw flowers at their face and shower them with kisses and love them forever and ever and ever like the dork that he is. A wedding he's alone at is like a knife in his heart. Lin and Bumi, however, would I think care a lot less about the context. Neither married. A wedding wouldn't mean as much as not having a specific person in a specific relationship. This quickly became Lin and Bumi thinking thoughts about a relationship with each other while Iroh makes lonely sad faces at the world. Which brings us to Mako. Guess who else would be alone at a S4 wedding? This is too easy.

And that was largely it. Combining the principles of a) Lin is hot and everyone knows that, b) Lin and Bumi are thinking thots but won't say them, c) Iroh is sad and annoyed, d) Mako is single and oblivious led me to both the idea of the bet between Lin and Bumi about which pathetic single firebender they could get a date for first as well as Iroh's counter-plan to get the two of them off his back. Mako, who had zero to do with the set up, is mostly along for the ride here. Lin wants to walk with him? Hot. Lin wants to get fucked against the wall of her hotel room? He's not complaining. Share Lin with Bumi? Weird, but he could get used to it. He's a nice guy, and it's better than not getting laid at all.

But because it's me my hand slipped and Iroh wound up with a love match of his own at the end. Completely unintended side plot.

Ask me for a Director's Cut commentary of any fic.

[usaghinanami99]

Urgh, yeah, that may seem like a small difference at first glance, but those two sentences really do convey different meanings, and one of them outright goes against the very basis of Takeuchi's worldbuilding... The misogyny shown by the anime's translation choice (having to translate the exact same original Japanese line as the manga's translator, so with even less excuses) is appalling, but it wouldn't be the first time the Viz version pulls off something super in line with liberal-leaning political correctness: I've read comments from English fans stating that the new redub of the old anime series has censored some homophobic comments made by the characters - which is hilariously the opposite of what the first dub did, and goes more towards a line I personally agree with, but I still deem it wrong to rewrite the past like this. But the worst has to be how the Viz English dub of the Sailor Stars season has characters outright use "they" pronouns for the Three Lights/Starlights (even when there's only one of them I mean, lol), which is an outright case of rewriting history since the anime was written and is set in a period when non-binariness hadn't been invented yet and certainly was not on anyone's radar in Japan, not to mention how it's very clear that the three of them undergo an actual, physical sex change when they transform (which we obviously know goes against Takeuchi's lore and worldbuilding but alas), not that they've got some sense of inner gender identity. Please keep in mind that I'm just reporting second-hand accounts though, since I've never watched the anime in English, either original or redub (though I have listened to the Dic soundtrack, which I appreciate far more than Arisawa's annoying BGM, lol), and I'm not even a fan of the old anime regardless of language, so please take these statements with a grain of salt. 😅 But I guess that "artistic liberties" like this are what happens when you give too much freedom to localisation agencies, and in the specific case of the English language it's been almost a constant, going through the Dic dub of seasons 1-2, the Cloverway dub of seasons 3-4, the Viz redub of seasons 1-5 and the Viz dub of Crystal 1-3... a constant that's been broken with the Netflix dub of Crystal 4, where the Japanese supervision upon *all* foreign language versions was so tight that it brought us this atrocious result: https://twitter.com/NJ_/status/1400346635935305728 What can I say, I'd much rather go for heavy creative liberty to foreign localisation - even if they come up with crazy and frankly pathetic results like the English ones mentioned above or the Italian dub of Sailor Stars - than having to witness this disgrace. Here's hoping that Crystal 5 will be granted decent, professional adaptations instead of following the trend set by its predecessor. 😓

-Insert rant here about how SM fans obsessed with political purity pretend that Takeuchi is a gendie like them ignoring all proofs to the contrary and treat disagreeing with this ideology like a mortal sin... But then they turn around and ignore all the little signs that Takeuchi is borderline a pa*do apologist if not outright fan.- I keep on giving them the benefit of the doubt because these signs are all in the form of little details that only someone who's researched Naoko Takeuchi's life and times very deeply and extensively could ever be aware of, so it's realistic to think that a portion of fans might be genuinely unaware of them... But if they were more coherent in their ways, the more knowledgeable fans would spread this information everywhere to cancel Takeuchi and claim that Sailor Moon is now theirs to own, instead of pretending this stuff doesn't exist and keeping the rest of the fandom in the dark. But I guess being a borderline supporter of paedop*rnography is not so heavy a sin as being a feminist in their mind. 🤢

I miss the days when the peak of PC-related discussion in SM spaces was which skin colour Setsuna is meant to have, sigh. But like in almost every other online fandom, The Great Cultural Shift of 2013/14 has made the English-speaking webspaces almost unbearable. I'm glad I can also frequent fora and webpages exclusively geared towards the French and Italian fandoms (where I pretty much only lurk, I stopped being an active member around a decade ago) and see how the worldview that dominates in English fora and social networks is only held by a minority that will never ban you for disagreeing. 😅

UsaMamo is THE OTP for me (as in not only in Sailor Moon, but my favourite fictional couple ever), but so many other characters are head over heels for Usaghi that I could never blame fans for wanting to explore the various possibilities in their head and/or fanworks. Helped by the fact that Usaghi is canonically a bisexual icon, the alternative non-canon ships almost write themselves. But then... who could not love Usaghi, unless they're already in love with someone else? If I were to meet someone so amazing, friendly, positive, inspiring, loving, strong, brave, unapologetic, outspoken, relatable, heroic, helpful and outright life-saving like her in real life, I'd fall for her too. 😍

I know, right?!? Every day it seems like the SM fandom is filled with more and more gendies who claim stuff like how Haruka isn't actually a woman or worse... And what's more, this is far from being the most deranged take I've seen recently, especially now that June has started. But then they'll turn around and claim that SM is actually the pinnacle of feminism in manga, when it's so clearly liberal-leaning and pro-beauty standards that it's anything but. What can I say, the sane people have to stick together! While to be honest I have to say that I don't share your shipping opinions in the slightest, I'd always admire a "rival" like you more than a shipmate who's also a hardcore TQ+ cultist. Sorry if my English isn't exactly the best, I hope I can convey what I want to all the same. ^^

I was absolutely devastated that in Crystal they seriously added the line 'Haruka isn't a man or a woman.' Like... sorry, no. If that was the case then why the hell did Michiru and Haruka get that awful "they're cousins" treatment for the western localization in the OG anime 🙄

I swear ....claiming that SM is a "feminist" work has to do with the fact that people don't want to admit that they enjoy things that aren't politically "pure". Because in their minds it would reflect on who they are as a person, and if something they enjoy isn't perfect, then they aren't either. Tbh I think there's a lot of unchecked narcissistic behavior in fandom communities as a whole 🤦🏻‍♀️

Oh GOSH. My shipping is a mess !! LMAOOO. I should be ashamed of it but I'm so shameless🤣 Tbh i recently started shipping Usagi with practically everyone 😭🤦🏻‍♀️ I'm ©onflicted, that's for sure

but hell yeah, shipping wars be damned, female solidarity til death >:] 😂😂

and omg no, don't even worry! I had no idea English wasn't your first language from your ask!! your message got across Crystal (🤭) clear ♥️

[mafaldaknows]

I'd like to know why some people like to take unrelated things and twist them into Charmie breaking up but when very sus stuff happens that indicates the exact opposite, like both Timmy's friend's and sisters' premieres at Armie's fam museum, it means nothing? Either they think Charmie were never together in the first place or Timmy is a masochist and pretty pathetic (which he doesn't strike me at all, especially now) because why would he go out of his way to mention CMBYN in interviews and sign with "later" when he doesn't do the same with BB, LW, Lady bird etc if Charmie were together and broke up? It's been 3 years since it came out and if you haven't noticed it's not too popular with his fans. And before anyone starts with the ig pfp change, please put that argument to rest because he still has the same pfp on twitter and he used it since so that's irrelevant.

Hello, Anon:

Those specific anon asks carry with them the whiff of anti-Charmie sentiment. I suspect that there are several agitators and fear-mongers planted to cause chaos in the fandom who regularly make the rounds of our inboxes with these sorts of potentially worrisome questions and comments.

I think there’s far too much heat and emotion expended on the things that are inaccurate, insignificant, or irrelevant, with not enough focus and attention on the things that truly do matter, which still outweigh, pound for pound, any of the red herrings the antis-disguised-as-Charmie-sympathizers insist on throwing at us.

The signs are all there. Happy hunting.

Thanks for your comment. ☺️🔵🧿❤️🪧🐇✨

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (6/?)

pairing: steve rogers x reader (platonic), natasha romanoff x reader (platonic), bruce banner x reader (y/n is a big fan of his), tony stark x reader, bucky barnes x reader

warnings: mention of bucky, fighting, training, mention of guns, takes place during The Avengers

words: 3,359

a/n: part 6! i honestly don't know how long this series will be, but i think i may end it at either endgame or TFATWS. so basically going through all the movies lmao, but skipping over a few. i just want honeybee and bucky to be happy but gotta add some angst.

Transitioning into a new world, the year of 2011, was no easy feat, and you appreciated Director Fury being somewhat patient and honest about how much has changed. Him, and apparently one of your biggest ‘fans,’ Phil Coulson, have been the most helpful with your adjustment, teaching you all about the new technology and supplying you with a new phone, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D.

However, along the way, were a few speedbumps. You and Steve trained consistently in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gym, almost leaving no room for sleep or taking proper care of yourselves. You both knew it was terrible, you should be looking out for one another, but the loss and confusion overran your needs to live a normal life. However, over time, he seemed to adjust better than you, as expected. Even though Steve had only been awake a few months before you, he jumped right back into the new world.

For you and Steve, the both of you had seen Bucky a few weeks ago; you had seen Steve a few minutes ago, from the time you had woken up. To everyone else in the world, including Steve, however, that was history, a moment written in textbooks ages ago; and for Captain Rogers, that moment was months ago.

In your mind, you deserved to release your anger out on some punching bags.

It had taken Director Fury and Agent Coulson a while until they shared the news to you and Steve, that Peggy was alive. They had claimed that since they found Steve, high hopes were in store for finding you, hence saving off on telling him beforehand. Steve had immediately wanted to see her but you hesitated; what would Peggy say to the both of you? How would she react to you both being alive? No matter, Steve had begged you to come along to visit Peg and you caved, giving him some time with her before he called you in.

Peggy’s eyes lit up, “y/n, you’re alive! Sweetheart…”

You smiled, pulling up a chair next to her, “hey, Peggy. How’s the strongest woman alive doin’?”

She sighed, grasping your hand, “better…much better. Howard never stopped looking for you, the both of you. He’d be so happy to see you.”

You sucked in a breath as her eyes turned glossy, “we know, Pegs. We know.”

She held back her tears as she continued, “he had a son, Anthony; just as stubborn but smart as Howard. You’d love him.”

Steve chuckled, “sounds like a handful.”

Peggy laughed before falling into a coughing fit, turning away for a few seconds. After regaining her breath, she turned towards you and Steve, “Steve! Y/N! You – you’re both alive; you came back!”

Steve gave a sad smile as your face fell, “yeah, Peggy, we did…”

Steve’s eyes teared up, “I couldn’t leave my best girl; not when she owes me a dance.”

Over time, the visits to Peggy became too much and you needed to rest. So, with little convincing to Director Fury, you found yourself in a small cabin in Bozeman, Montana, with frequent visits by both Coulson and your new female friend, Natasha Romanoff. At first, you hated the idea of someone visiting you during your time to reflect, but once you realized that she wanted to help you train and become used to your super serum abilities, you appreciated the company.

You barely had any time to adjust to your newfound strength, among other things, and you slowly became grateful that Natasha had joined you over the course of a few months. Sure, sometimes she was so nosy and bossy, waking you up in the ungodly hours of the morning to train, but she had slowly become one of your closest friends.

Honestly, some days it felt as if you just met Natasha the day before:

You stood in Fury’s office, arms crossed, as he stood adjacent to you, Coulson awkwardly standing beside him. “Why are you sending a babysitter to a place where I am supposed to be, oh, I don’t know, relaxing? Reflecting?”

Director Fury grumbled for the umpteenth time, “because, Agent L/N, you never know when the day will come where we will need you and Rogers, along with your special abilities. You are unskilled in hand-in-hand combat, among other areas in defense, and it’d be nice to enhance our agents.”

You uncrossed your arms, still very pissed off, “I don’t want them to visit me every day. That’s my one condition. I need time, Nick; I feel like I haven’t properly…taken everything in. I just want time to myself.”

Phil spoke up beside Fury, “and we respect that, Y/N, we truly do. But we hope you also see where we are coming from. Natasha Romanoff is very skilled in her profession and understands your situation – you’re in good hands.”

“Phil, you’re making me blush,” a female monotonous voice spoke.

Whipping your head around, you were met with a beautiful redhead who definitely seemed like an Agent, someone who meant all business. You’d learn later on that was just a façade.

“I- Y/N L/N, you must be Agent Romanoff,” you said, holding out your hand.

Natasha grinned, shaking your hand in hers, “just call me Nat, Agent sounds too formal. I look forward to seeing what that super soldier serum truly did to you.”

Apparently, not too much as she continuously kicked your ass in combat.

Training with Natasha was, well, with your lack of combat, embarrassing. You had your ass handed to you so many times, it was a bit pathetic – but she always told you that you were improving. You used your heightened senses to your advantage, listening to her footsteps and figuring out what move she intended to use next. You hesitated to use your strength at first, but with continued training, you knew Nat could handle it.

With Nat, you also became very skilled in shooting handguns, rifles, the whole nine. Your aim was impeccable and target training was becoming a breeze. The thought of shooting someone terrified you at first, but when Nat reminded you that hesitation could get you killed, you understood – there was no room for mistakes.

During your stay in Montana, you kept in touch with Steve, but only through short texts. He was not thrilled with you leaving him, but he understood where you were coming from; you needed to mourn but also keep busy, careful to not fall into a dark abyss. Fury kept you updated, telling you that he had pushed himself into training continuously and visiting Peggy all he could. You knew seeing Peg was doing Steve no good whatsoever, and your heart ached...but at least he got to see his long love.

Nat had been there when Bucky’s birthday passed, holding you as you cried, unable to leave your bed the day of and a few after. She held you as you yelled at the sky for taking away the most important person in your life, leaving you so alone. She knew you had Steve, but it wasn’t the same – you needed Bucky. But she also knew by letting you cry, your emotions out of your body, you’d feel so much more at peace.

And she was right.

Natasha also told you about Howard's son, Anthony, and from what you saw on the news, that was definitely Howard's kid. Tony was arrogant, self-absorbed, but did what he thought was right. After his declaration of being Iron Man, you followed Tony all over the internet, but hearing first hand from Natasha of the man that Tony was...Howard would be proud. You wished to meet him, you did, but something pulled at your heart, telling you that Tony probably hated you for taking his dad from him, forcing Howard to become obsessed with finding you and Steve and thus, costing him his life.

Natasha told you he might see you in that light, yes, but if you ever got to know Tony, he'd warm up.

You weren’t healed and you still weren’t okay, but you were…better. You hated whatever being there was in the sky for taking your James, but you came to terms with it. But the one thing you were so resentful about was the fact that there was no body, no funeral for him.

Becca hated that, too.

You had visited her in her old age, just like Peggy, and the two of you held hands as you talked about James and Steve – your boys. She had missed you so much, just like she missed Jamie, and she understood your pain the best. She had tried to encourage a search party for him, to have some closure, but the government refused. He was gone, and they couldn’t send more men to find a disfigured body.

You hated thinking about that, what James would look like. It haunted you in your nightmares, waking you up in the wee hours of the morning, his frostbitten body staring right back at you. Phil had found you a morning after such nightmare, sitting on your porch in nothing but an oversized shirt and a blanket around your shoulders, cheeks wet with fresh tears.

You sniffled once more, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, watching as a black car parked into your dirt driveway. The car opened and Phil Coulson emerged, as expected - on time for your monthly visits. Hugging onto the blanket tighter, you shivered against the cold air, hoping Phil would just leave upon noticing your state.

He did the exact opposite.

Phil took off his jacket, resting it upon your shoulders even though you had the blanket. You sniffled, inhaling his scent, and hugged the jacket closer, feeling Phil take a seat next to you on your wooden bench.

"I always found snow to be soft, almost like a cloud, falling down upon it when James and I would make snow angels," you began. A shiver ran down your spine as you continued, "but now, I can't help but think of his body just...plopping onto the ground so roughly that he was hurting, still alive, yelling out for anyone and..."

Phil ran his hand over your head, brushing your hair back, "freezing."

You glanced to Phil, "freezing to...to death. He must've been so scared, I-"

Phil shushed you as the tears formed, "no what if's, y/n. He's safe now - that's what matters most. You're okay, and so is he."

Your bottom lip trembled as you held onto the dog tags, nodding to Phil's words, "you're right, as always."

Phil gave a tight smile, "let's go inside and heat up some milk, 'm getting tired myself." Coulson held your hand for the rest of the night.

Trying to convince yourself to get some closure, you told yourself that the next time you were in Washington D.C., you’d visit the museum and read all about Bucky, all that he had done, and see the amazed looks of citizens who saw him as a hero. Your James Barnes was a hero to so many people, including yourself, and you should be able to celebrate his goodness from when he was alive.

You were going to go the next day until Director Fury knocked on your door at 2:30 in the morning, holding a file labeled “CLASSIFIED.”

You raised an eyebrow, “couldn’t have given me this at a decent time?”

He narrowed his good eye, “it’s urgent, didn’t have time for formalities, your highness.”

With a snort, you grabbed the folder from his hands, “glad you know how to properly address me. What time do we leave?”

Fury tilted his head toward the quinjet, directing your eyes toward Steve who stood alongside Natasha, “once you get dressed, Agent. You’ll have time to look over the file in the jet.”

You weren’t sure why you got dressed so fast; seeing Steve for the first time in about 6 months, finally going on a mission, or just getting some new sense of scenery. Either way, you engulfed Steve in a hug and he laid a hand on the back of your head, “hey, honeybee.”

Your heart ached whenever he called you that, but you figured it was one of the last things he could hold onto Bucky as his dog tags laid against your chest, “hey, Stevie. So, what’s the deal?”

Reading over the file while Nat gave more information about Clint – someone else who you had grown quite close to – you grew confused. You looked to Steve, “the Tesseract. That’s the blue cube that…disintegrated Schmidt, right?”

Steve nodded, “looks like Howard recovered it and it’s been in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hands since, but this guy, Loki, wants something to do with it – Hydra’s secret weapon.”

Fury spoke up from the front of the jet, “that scepter he has, it controls the minds of anyone it touches, including one of my sharpest agents. The Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy – that’s something the world sorely needs. Falls into the wrong hands, well…”

You shook your head, “you shoulda left it in the ocean.”

Silence overtook the quinjet until Phil came over to your seat, sitting beside you, “I’d like you to come along to recruit another member, if you don’t mind.”

You gave a small smile to Phil, “um, yeah, that’s fine. Where we goin’ and who are we recruiting, Coulson?”

Phil seemed a bit nervous as he spared a glance to Nat, who nodded her head, “Tony Stark, Iron Man.”

You sucked in a breath, “Howard’s son? You want me to come along?”

Phil laid his own hand upon yours that rested in your lap, file forgotten about, “I do, and I hope you wouldn’t mind tagging along.”

Holding back your tears, you nodded, “yeah, yeah, I’ll come. When do we leave?”

“Once we land in D.C., we’ll take a quick trip to New York. Easy car ride.”

You squinted your eyes, “isn’t that like, a 6-hour drive?”

Phil gave an uneasy smile, “not with me driving, we’ll be there in 2.”

You chuckled, “as long as I get there alive, I don’t really care how we get there.”

In all honesty, the drive to Stark Tower was relatively calm, save for swerving through traffic and going way too fast for your liking. Once you arrived, you and Phil talked to the impressive AI named JARVIS who told you both that he was informing Mr. Stark of your arrival.

“Impressive Artificial Intelligence,” you whispered to Phil, “definitely Howard's kid.”

Phil was about to respond until JARVIS spoke up, “Mr. Stark is not in, Agent Coulson.”

Your friend pursed his lips together, “please tell Tony that this is urgent and we need to speak. Now.”

Very quickly, Tony ignored your calls until Phil hacked into the system, overriding JARVIS and his protocols. Phil spoke into the phone, pulling you inside the elevator, “Mr. Stark, we need to talk.”

Tony sighed on the other line, “you have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message.”

Phil rolled his eyes, causing you to let out a snort, along with Pepper Potts on the other line, “this is urgent, Tony.”

You and Phil stood in the elevator, about to reach his floor as Tony responded, “then leave it urgently.” Right on cue, the elevator doors opened and Tony held up his glass of champagne, “security breach, it’s on you.”

Tony’s eyes glanced over your figure as you stood beside Phil, Pepper getting up from the floor to greet him, “Phil! Come in. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met yet, Miss?”

You smiled at Pepper, meeting her halfway and shaking her hand, “Agent Y/N L/N, Miss Potts.”

Tony stood beside Pepper, “the infamous Miss America, Cap’s sidekick. How’s S.H.I.E.L.D. treating you? Always annoying you with something, barging in without your knowledge, telling you that you've been asleep for 70 years?”

Phil spoke for you, “I’m afraid we can’t stay. We need you to look this over as soon as possible.”

Tony shook his head, “I don’t like being handed things.”

You let out a chuckle as Pepper took the folder, “that’s fine, because I love to be handed things. So, let’s trade.” With a quick switch of hands, Pepper gave Tony the folder as she handed Phil the glass of champagne, “thank you. Anything for you, Y/N?”

You shook your head, “no thank you, Miss Potts.”

You took a moment to look Tony over. Peggy was not kidding – he looked exactly like Howard, and certainly acted like him, too. They had the same eyes, the same face, and the same attitude; it was almost like looking at a clone of Howard. Your eyes filled with unshed tears but you pushed them back, taking a small breath as Phil continued, “this is not a consultation.”

Pepper’s eyes grew wide, “is this about the Avengers? Which I know nothing about.” She looked guilty once the words slipped.

Tony sighed as he walked away, opening up the folder and looking through it quickly, “the Avengers initiative was scrapped, I thought – and I didn’t even qualify.”

Pepper shrugged, “I didn’t know that, either.”

Tony continued, “apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others.”

You mumbled, “kind of like Howard.” Tony pointed his finger towards you as he nodded, “and she speaks of him!”

Pepper nodded her head, “that I did know,” ignoring his comment towards you.

Phil shifted his weight, “this isn’t about personality profiles anymore.”

Tony grunted, “whatever. Ms. Potts, got a second?”

As the two were talking, screens were lit up of you, Steve, and others fighting, and you stumbled back with a slight gasp, still new to the whole holographic stuff of technology. Phil turned towards you, asking you if you were okay with a look, and you nodded. Pepper looked towards you both and back to Tony, whispering, “maybe while working on this, you can get to know her. Get to know your dad. I’ll take the jet to D.C. tonight. You have homework – a lot of homework.”

The two kissed before Pepper headed your way, “so, any chance you two are driving by LaGuardia?”

Phil nodded, “I can drop you.” Pepper smiled, “fantastic!”

The two began to walk towards the elevator as you looked on at Tony who held a holographic Tesseract in his hand. In that moment, your brain convinced yourself that was Howard, your Howie.

Tony turned towards you, “you joining them or you just gonna stare?”

You took a step back, a frown on your face as you mumbled an apology, meeting Pepper and Phil in the elevator. Pepper turned your way as the doors closed, “I’m sorry about him. When it comes to his dad and you, he gets a bit…”

You finished her sentence, “jealous. He missed out on a lot and I can imagine Howard spent too much time talking about me or Steve instead of him. I understand.”

Pepper gave a tight smile.

In a few short hours, you, Phil, Steve, and a few other S.H.I.E.L.D agents were on your way to the helicarrier, something that only a few of you knew about. You sat next to Steve, looking over Dr. Bruce Banner’s files, examining videos of him as Hulk, and how he was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. You had known about Dr. Banner and honestly, had become one of his fans – when he was in his human form, of course. His works on nuclear physics and gamma radiation greatly interested you and upon reading many of his published articles, you had completely forgotten about his condition. Having the opportunity to meet him in person was certainly one of your dreams and you just knew Bucky was making fun of you for being such a dork.

Phil stood up from his seat, walking towards you and Steve, leaning above you both. Steve looked to Phil, “this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?”

Phil nodded, “after Howard Stark’s death in 1991, Dr. Banner made it his mission to replicate it. A lot of people were. You – you both – were the world’s first superheroes. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine’s original formula.”

Steve looked uneasy, “didn’t really go his way, did it?”

Phil shifted his weight as he looked towards you, then to Steve, “not so much. When he’s not that thing, though,” you interrupted him with a glare, “sorry, the Hulk, the guy’s like a Stephen Hawking.”

Steve looked to you, confusion written on his face. You shrugged, “a really smart person.”

Silence enveloped the three of you until you nodded to Phil, urging him to continue. Phil seemed all giddy, “I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you officially. I’ve sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping.”

You snorted as Steve nervously smiled at Phil, covering your face as he continued, “I mean, I was present while you were unconscious from the ice.” Steve stood up as you continued laughing, making his way to the front of the jet, “you know, it’s just a huge honor to have you on board this.”

You followed Phil, clapping him on the back as Steve overlooked the ocean, “thank you for that, Phil, truly.”

Steve elbowed you as he mumbled, “I hope we’re the people for the job.”

Phil’s eyes lit up, “oh, you are – you both are, absolutely! We, uh, made some modifications to your suits, by the way.”

You glanced towards Phil – now this was what you missed.

-

honeybee taglist:

@clownerlyluv

@ginger-swag-rapunzel

@starkleila

@intothesoul

[lil-smutier]

<< Chapter 4 : Train of Thoughts >>

The train was quiet, it wasn’t too crowded either, but Sakusa still felt antsy, he just, couldn’t seem to sit still; shuffling from one foot to the other while dragging his fingers up and down the black nylon strap of his backpack similar to how you did last night when you were about to leave. You remained a wild card of sorts to Kiyoomi. He found himself still thinking of you even after you left last night, asking if you had managed to get back to the team safely after he had made his own way over from his hideout room.

At first, the team was surprised he had even ventured out to join them, they all assumed he would just head home when he felt like even hiding away wouldn’t drown out the loud chatter and laughter of everyone else; it was rare to see him twice in one night. Atsumu was the first to answer his question, the male clearly drunk when he slurred out that yes, you did manage to find them again and say goodbye, and that you also apparently said that you would miss Kiyoomi after all of it. Ha- like I believe that , Sakusa told himself multiple times, including right now, as he stood silently in the train car as well, there’s no way you’d pick him out of the rest of them right? He was already so cold towards you from the get-go, and he was relatively sure someone like you would be better suited with anyone but him; you were just so kind, and welcoming to everyone (if the loud banter and chatter from Hinata and Bokuto he heard today was anything to go by). You were the exact opposite of him. He knew it was just the setter messing with him as he always did, especially considering he was drunk on gods-know only how much alcohol, but the yearning of what he said being true burned him severely.

Even so, deep down he felt his heart tug at that thought longingly. Not only were you supposed to be just a fan, you didn’t even specify you were his fan specifically; you told him you were a fan of MSBY , that indirectly told him that you weren’t picking any favourites unfortunately. It confused him greatly, would you pick a favourite? If so, who would it be? Would it be him? He couldn’t grasp why he was getting so irrational at that idea, why he felt so relieved when you told him that you had a good time talking to him or why he felt a sudden urge to go over and ask what you were doodling (how did it relax your previous panic so easily). Originally, he had reasons for all of those, the first being because he didn’t usually receive much attention from fans privately - pathetic, he knew - , most of them usually commented on his looks, and nothing else; the second being because he knew Meian would’ve been harsher on him today had you not enjoyed yourself, and the third reason being… the third ... Well, the third reason is where it all went down the drain. The more he lingered on the thought of you, the more confused he got, his mind ate away at him, not because he resented these thoughts… but because he welcomed them. He welcomed all thoughts about you that he had from the previous night and nearly the whole day today; you weren’t a nuisance, you were small, and quiet, - cute… -Kiyoomi shook his head vigorously, was he really that consumed by his thoughts?

He didn’t even realise it most of the time today, but whenever he was on break, or if he focused on what he was actually thinking about, he saw those innocent seashell pink eyes looking at him nervously, he saw you doodling away in your little sketchbook, cheeks brushed with the same shade of pink your eyes were. What were you drawing? The train announcement shook him from his reverie as his eyes landed on Meian, who was also looking at him. “Sakusa-san? Are you alright?” “Y-yes, I’m sorry, I seem to be distracted today.” Meian smiled gently at him, trying to give him some peace while keeping his distance, “It’s no problem, my stop is reaching soon, come sit down and let’s chat and try to get your mind off of things.” he offered, content when the spiker took the seat next to him.

‘Talking to get your mind off of things’ was easier said than done. Aside from their shared love for the sport, Meian and Sakusa didn’t have much in common; leaving the Captain struggling to even bring up something that might have a chance in soothing his teammate’s haze of thoughts. He settled on talking about what had happened last night (if he was being completely honest, the topic was more to entertain his own curiosity than be of help to the latter), “What did you and Hashi-san talk about last night?” he began, turning to fully face the shorter, “Nothing much...just introductions.” Kiyoomi replied, clutching his backpack to his chest now that he was sitting comfortably. It wasn’t so out of the ordinary for Shugo to bring you up, everyone did only meet you last night… “Really?” The middle blocker chuckled, “She seemed to have been over with you for a long while...” he teased, voice trailing off as Sakusa felt his fingers twitch at the implication.

“She got lost.”

“What?”

A low snigger leaves him as he nods against the lump of fabric in his lap, “Yes, she left the room telling me that she was sure she knew the way back to the rest of you.” Meian frowned at him, “You didn’t head out to help her??” he was shocked, sure, he had remembered something about Yachi saying you managed to wander off somewhere, but he didn’t expect Sakusa-san to have known about it as well, let alone leave you to deal with the problem yourself. The man in question shrugged nonchalantly, “She said she knew where she was headed. By the time I thought of stepping in, I saw Yachi-san heading over.” sighing, Meian dropped his forehead into his palm, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Seriously Kiyoomi- why’d you go out and watch her struggle then?” Another shrug, “It was amusing.” the Ace stated, a small smile forming under his mask at the memory of your eyes growing wide and frantic while you desperately searched for a way out into the main hall. “You’re terrible.” Meian declared half-heartedly; you were such a sweet person to him, not only were you looking out for Sakusa, you also handled all of the team’s quirks well - including Atsumu’s insistent picking on you, which surprised the Captain himself - . He secretly admired that about you, it took a lot of patience and tolerance to handle three bumbling idiots, with the inclusion of alcohol no less. You looked like an indoor person to him, someone who preferred hanging out in malls and cafes instead of out in gymnasiums or sports courts, perhaps somewhere you could draw in peace- oh, right!

“Did you know that she has an art account? It’s a fan account dedicated to the Jackals.”

That caught the spiker’s attention. His eyes flicked to his Captain’s. “A fanart account? What’s it called?” A satisfied grin laced Meian’s lips as he repeated what Hinata had told him earlier, “Ah. Thank you, Meian-san.” the spiker noted, typing it down into his phone for the time being. The elder nodded, clutching his duffel bag when the announcement sounded again to alert them of their next stop: Meian’s stop. “Alright, this is my stop then!” He noted, beginning to stand, “I’ll see you tomorrow Sakusa, have a good night!” The spiker only nodded quietly as he was left alone.

~~

You rub your tired eyes, you’ve been watching YouTube for quite awhile now, resuming your self-lesson on how to properly use watercolours on top of colour pencil outlines after dinner. It was around 10 PM when your phone went off again, the notification chiming only once this time. You exhale sleepily, checking the name of the follower again: ‘@shugo.meian’ huh, you laugh to yourself, although you were still in denial that they all liked your work, you were beginning to feel more confident about it when they actually began following your account.

You click on the message option on the account, typing with one hand as the other tidied your desk, keeping everything either to the side or where you had stored it before. After your conversation with Shoyo earlier, the Captain following you didn’t exactly surprise you; or maybe you were too tired to really react to it the way you usually did, a sleep-deprived migraine coming on when the message went through.

‘Hey! This is Meian right? Thank you so much for following my account! I guess Shoyo told you about it?’

You laugh openly when the response comes in,

‘Yup, he was so excited to get us to support you. You should customise something for us some time, maybe a poster or an advertisement?’

‘Perhaps Meian, but I doubt I’m anywhere as good as that. I’m just a college student.’

‘Right, but if you ever need an offer, feel free to ask! I’ll check if I can get anything for you.’

You feel your chest warm at that; it’s so nice of him to help you out like that, especially since you only held a proper conversation with him last night. You send him a smiley and a thumbs up, letting him know that you got the memo before plugging your phone in to charge, settling under your warm covers as you flopped onto your side gracelessly, curling up into the fetal position to get some definitely needed sleep.

~~

Kiyoomi spun in his swivel chair, head tilted back onto the headrest as his mind drowned in frustration. He couldn’t understand why hearing that you had a fan account dedicated to them made his heart skip a beat, a random surge of excitement zooming through him, it was just fanart! He wondered if it was in hopes that he might find out what you were drawing that night (to kill his curiosity before it killed him), or maybe it was just the satisfaction of getting to know you better, to know the true feelings you had about the Jackals - about him .

For all he knew, you could’ve just been putting up a front to get in their favour, it had already clearly worked for Hinata, Bokuto and even Meian, and he was sure that at least this much was clear to you. It nagged at the back of his mind as he continued to use his foot to push the chair left and right in thoughtfulness. Perhaps he should follow you? For the sake of getting to know you better , he clarified, mostly to convince himself, flipping open his laptop and logging on to search for your account, he found it almost immediately; but when his cursor hovered over the ‘follow’ button, he hesitated. If you were indeed trying to get in the Jackals’ favour for some reason, him talking to you using an account under his main social media would probably not be the best route to take. What else could he do? It felt like a lose-lose situation, he could just opt not to follow you, but that would defeat the purpose of his plan. He stopped swaying, staring at the glowing blue light while sorting through his ideas. Well… I could always go undercover…

This is crazy. Utterly, freaking crazy. The spiker thought, adding some final additional quirks to make his ‘fan account’ seem more realistic, he already began to regret this idea. It would be a huge waste of his time if he didn’t end up uncovering anything; it wasn’t easy either, he couldn’t include too many new or personal details in case you got suspicious, neither could he just add any random information, since you could report the account for a spam, or just block it altogether - defeating the purpose totally. Why am I even doing this… he groaned into his palms, the calloused skin of them pulling on his cheeks and under his eyes as he dragged them down in indignation, so annoying, he complained, finally deciding the account was just about in the middle of ‘too much’ and ‘too little’. A long yawn left him as he stretched, cracking his back before using the newly created account to follow you instead.

That night, Sakusa laid in bed wanting to punch himself. Sure, he’d been curious before, who hasn’t? Nevertheless, this was an insane length. Was he really that distrusting of you? He had never met someone who was as compensating as you; you were probably picked on in school for it too, he chuckled dryly to himself, mood only worsening at that thought. Did no one ever tell you that you can’t make everyone happy? That it was impossible? If they did, then why were you so accepting of him? He wasn’t the best person, off or on the court, yet he had noticed how careful you were around him; like a mouse trying to befriend a housecat. Did you like him? Why? This idea is ridiculous! He shouted mentally, struggling to stomp down his intrusive thoughts, why do I even care?

Am I really that pathetic?

The thought stung in the back of his mind as he tossed and turned, struggling to fall asleep. What would he even say to you? Were you trusting enough that you’d fall for his trick, maybe, his mind supplied hopefully, just maybe. Eventually the male did fall into an uneasy sleep, the guilt nabbing him in the back of the neck when his subconscious finally relaxed.

[feckin-zicons]

that's why i hate larries, i hate them with all my heart. besides being boring they are hypocrites 🙄

Hey nonnie, sorry its taken me so long to reply but if you’re following me you know I’ve been travelling lately and have been more scatterbrained than usual. Not that I’m ever not scatterbrained, but its been just a little crazier than usual!

Now I wouldn’t go as far to say I hate Larries. After all their delusions can be pretty funny sometimes!

Joking aside, I don’t hate Larries, I love Larries, I’m a Larry, so I really hesitate to tarry the whole group with the same brush. However I do strongly agree with you that there are those who are complete hypocrites. Nothing annoys more more than when Larries ™ treat the other boys, other celebrities, their friends and even family as one more side character to the Larry Show.

In particular when Larries ™ flood comment sections asking or in some cases, ordering people to confirm rumors/the couple being together. The absolute fucking disrespect. Not just because they’re flooding comment sections in videos streams, tweets, what have you, that sometimes have nothing to do with the couple in question, but because its presumptuous and rude as fuck to think they’re owed a coming out- just because they’re fans of the boys.

Stop it. Thats fucking ugly as hell.

While I have no doubt all the boys will one day be out (as referenced by their continued efforts in fighting the closet. I don’t get the sense the boys will just stop at being freed from their contractual obligations). It should and will be on their own terms. Provided they’re not forcibly outed some other way.

Coming out is a deeply personal experience and no one, no one ever, has the right to out someone else. I’ll never not be absolutely furious at the Larries ™ who posted about having ‘receipts’ that would out the boys. Which… tbh weren’t receipts at all but thats a whole other story. I’m also still angry at the reactions after Liams Attitude spread that wouldn’t have been as bad if not for the entitled fandom that peddled ridiculous claims beforehand about Liam confirming Larry to be real.

I mean… What the actual fuck. Setting aside the fandom experience of the time, and boy was it an experience. What right would Liam have confirming Louis and Harry’s relationship? I mean, get some perspective? It doesn’t help that a lot of fandom adults were the ones coming up with, and reblogging those theories and the younger fans ate it up. It would have made more sense for Louis and Harry to do it but idk maybe I’m still out of touch for thinking so. I mean, it felt like every other week someone was talking about Larry coming out. It was such a shit storm oh my god.

Biggest issue I still have with them is that the entitled behaviour hasn’t stopped. For some it seems like, Larry coming out is it for them. Like pack it up, goodbye, shows over, Louis and Harry are gay and in a relationship and everything is rainbows, we get to see cute pictures of them and everyone lives happily ever after.

Yeah, no. Coming out, for anyone, is just the beginning, can’t even begin to imagine what its like for them. They’re still going to need everyones support, and it irritates me that for some fans it seems so fucking conditional.

Time and time again, I’ve seen tweets, and posts, and videos, whatever, going on about Larry coming out and it reads like a fucking wattpad story. Not just that but its always on the assumption by the poster, on the off chance they consider the other 3/5ths of the band and Ziam being a possibility, that Larry will come out first?

What?

I’m sorry but, what?

Everything I’ve seen from the boys tells me they’re all in this together, they support each other and are working through the bullshit as a team. We have all seen the No Judgement music video yes? The merch, posts, double speak etc referencing each other, yes?

I mean, I suppose if you only look at Louis and Harry, like so many do, sure. Only Larry matters, everyone else is a side character in their life.

(Lemme just, scream for a second).

However, that kind of thinking leads them to the wrong conclusions. Like… assuming the SBB/RBB countdown was attributed to nothing, when it counted down to Liam finally being free of Sophia. In the years since, I’ve seen Larries ™ backtrack on claiming the bears had anything to do with the boys, that they weren’t behind it at all, or that they were just trolling the fandom.

You know, despite all the proof otherwise, and some really, really good posts breaking down clues about what the boys were trying to tell us. The moment something might not actually be about Louis and Harry its like all their thinking shuts off. Its frustrating. Really fucking frustrating.

Seriously, fans of the other boys as individulas, not just Ziams, have been talking about the stunts too and how they fit together. Its why we tend to be right, because we’re considering the entire group. They’re still a group. They’re not free until all of them are free.

Just for that Nialls coming out first. Lmao. I’ll call it now. Lets go Niall, whens the baby coming. We all wanna know. Its been years.

Imagine, imagine! Acting like coming out is some race to be won. The fucking audacity.

Go outside and touch fucking grass you absoulte ninny.

I get it, you want to be vindicated, you want to be rewarded for putting your faith in two celebrities being together.

Newsflash you dandelionfluff, its not a race, Louis and Harry coming out isn’t a fucking prize. Thats not what supporting a relationship looks like.

Its worse when someone admits they don’t know much about Ziam or the possibility of Niall being LGBT+, and claim they’re open to it, but then immediately tweet or reblog or sub tweet or tag comment a post or answer an ask from another Larry ™ talking about how Larries ™ are the most marginalized and persecuted group.

???

In what fucking world?

IN WHAT FUCKING WORLD?

If we wanna play that game, boohoo, the media claims Louis and Harry aren’t friends anymore because of crazy shippers. Meanwhile Zayn publicly isn’t friend with anyone and “left” the band… despite the Ziam fandom calling the stunt about either Louis or Zayn “leaving” and getting it down to the exact week (the second article coming out a week before about the Ziam kiss pretty much cemented it for Zayn leaving. Which did a lot to fan the flames of the already rabid fanbase when Ziam got two articles confirming a Ziam kiss over the years and Larry got nada. Like that actually means anything).

Not to mention Larries ™ using the hetties and management tactics against the other parts of the fandom to silence them.

Who cares what the media says anyway!  TPTB, 1DHQ, The Sun, The Mirror, Simon and his minions and their unpaid interns have used the media to split the fandom apart and it worked.

Who the fuck cares if the media calls the 1D stans delusional, you know the truth! The truth it out there and you’ve seen it! The truth is coming! Who gives a damn about what some two bit “journo” who failed out of their creative writing course writes? They get worse by the year. If it wasn’t so pathetic and hilarious I might actually feel embarrassed for them. They can’t even come up with new stories and have just taken to copying old articles, but you’re upset with them??? Give it a rest. Honestly.

The sense of disconnect, entitlement and victimhood of some Larries ™ is absolutely ridiculous.

Oh my god they’re Karens. I’m not trying to be insulting, but thats exactly who they remind me of.

I’m not going to say its a surprise to me that so many in the Ziam fandom are POC, LGBT+, and Neurodivergent and any combination of those, but I am going to say I’ve read a lot of Larry fics that just have Het sex made gay. Those in the Ziam fandom just tend to look at facts in a different way than Larries do due to their life experiences. A interfaith, interracial, relationship where one or both partners fall under the Bi umbrella (not saying Louis or Harry can’t be or aren’t Bi+ but rumors, and the way the fandom markets them, puts them firmly in the gay category) looks very, very different than gay or straight relationship. Both looking from outside and being in one. There’s just different dynamics at play that aren’t often realized or understood by the gays and hets.

Its not a bad thing. All relationships are different. The issue is that theres a lot of biphobia/racism/religious prejudice etc that arises from people being unwilling to understand the inherent differences.

Taking myself for example, I’m bi, like, bi as hell, and I don’t understand how gays and hets only like one gender. I just don’t. Can’t wrap my head around it. If someone asks me to choose one gender over the others to prefer I can’t. Its so stressful. My brain goes into panic mode and it feels like I’m being torn apart. My sense of identity is shaken- its a shit feeling. I just can’t lie to myself like that. If other people feel the same well, its no wonder bi+ have such high rates of depression and suicide. Its not about choosing who to like, there is no choice, I just feel attraction to everyone. Aces, I get. Its similar to being the opposite of what I feel, or not feeling an attraction to someone I’m not interested in. Easy. Gays and hets? I’m completely lost on.

Completely, and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try and understand where they’re coming from. Its alien to me, personally, but I’m not going to shut down the fact, that theres a fuck ton of people who only like one gender or try and make up reasons as to why they’re actually bi+

I digress, none of the boys fall neatly into the gay stereotypes, its just that parts of the Larry fandom have boxed Louis and Harry into certain roles to fit preconceived notions (likely do to them initially fitting in better with the white, sassy, somewhat effeminate twink thats been plastered all over Hollywood as their “LGBT+ representation” for years. Gag), they can understand better, and only look for proof to back up their theories but don’t look at things objectively.

They really need to get out more and make some LGBT+ friends that aren’t on the internet and talk to some gay elders. They need educating that’s not the often sanitized and insulting Hollywood version, that’s all I’m saying.

They made Louis and Harry more palatable for themselves and its… really gross.

I don’t know, I don’t get it.

Some Larries ™ turned the boys into their fandom and fanfiction stereotypes when they’re so much more than that. The Sony leaks should have been enough to dissuade the fandom, and prove that the brand sold to the broader audience is just that- a brand, and yet… Niall only talks about food and golf and Ireland and is only allowed to be straight or ace. If he exists at all its just to be Capt Niall. Liams slow and dumb and depending on the day he’s either Capt Liam or a horrific abusive homophobe. Zayns just The Worst, a unstable drug addict, and the boys hate each other, and they should have kicked him out of the band sooner because he never wanted to be part of them anyway, etc.

It drives me absolutely around the bend some days. They’re real people who don’t owe anyone anything, especially not coming out.

Yes, I think they will. But they’re not obligated to. They can change their minds, I’ll support them regardless of an “official” coming out or not.

Look, a part of me gets it. They wanna be right, they wanna prove the haters wrong, they want to be able to say I called it all along! The vindication will be sweet.

But like, it takes a quick look at someone other than Louis and Harry to realize theres something hinky going on with Liam, Zayn and Niall. Please listen to their fans who have spent just as much time as you have looking into Louis and Harry compiling together evidence.

It might take a weekend to watch the ILYSM and pterodactyl bros videos and a few more hours looking into some Niall blogs, which isn’t much compared to the hours I know they’ve spent looking into Larry. At least then they’ll have enough information to form an opinion on things.

I wonder, for some, what would happen if Larry didn’t come out, or didn’t come out first, or one of the other boys was outed against their will. Because… I don’t know. It seems like some would rather just be proven right at this point.

I get it. We’re tired. Its been eleven long years. But this isn’t a television show were everything can come to a head with a s3 or s4 cliff hanger and fixed in the series finale. Its real life, and they started off as boys trusting industry veterans who never had their best interests at heart.

Iduno. I just want some Larries ™ to take a step out of the echo chamber, realize life isn’t The Larry Show & co. And especially. ESPECIALLY, that every instance were someone, friends, family, co-works, industry peeps etc support the boys they are SUPPORTING THE BOYS, NOT THE FANDOM. They are not “confirming Larry for the fans” they’re doing it to support the couple, not to cater to the fandom. Please stop confusing the two. There’s a huge fucking difference. Learn it.

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (10/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

-/-

“Swan? Let’s do what?”

Emma’s lips are parted, and he keeps waiting for her to finish her sentence, to say something. He was rather interested in hearing what exactly she was about to suggest that they do, but she’s no longer paying him any attention.

What could have possibly gotten her attention?

Killian twists his head around to look behind him, and it would be impossible to miss Neal.

Neal and Tamara and the way that they’re standing hand in hand in line for the Ferris wheel like some kind of cliché out of a bad movie that plays on TV every Saturday night.

Well, fuck.

Killian’s hands fall from Emma’s hips before he moves them to her shoulders, tugging on them and trying to get her attention. It doesn’t work at first, but then she’s blinking and shaking her head before snapping her mouth shut, her lips pressed into a firm line.

“Hey, let’s get back to my place, yeah? The fireworks will be soon, and we don’t want Liam and Elsa to get the good spots. Liam’s got that huge head, so he might block the view.”

Her laugh in response is pathetic, and she obviously knows it from the way she overcorrects and attempts to make her laughter genuine. It falls flat. She’s an open book to him sometimes, he wishes all the time, and right now, he knows the path her mind is about to take.

He would know. He’s pretty much paved the damn path for her.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” she hisses, eyes slanting.

“It’s a holiday. Everyone here spends it at the pier.”

“Not Neal. Never Neal. He told me every year that he would never come with me. That asshole.”

Emma pulls away from him, and he loses his grip on her shoulders as she storms off toward Neal. Her swan falls off, and he has to lean down to pick it up.

Bloody hell.

Is he ever going to get to quit chasing this woman?

“Emma,” he shouts before cursing under his breath. He doesn’t need to bring attention to them. “Swan, hey.” He has to jog to catch up to her, tugging on her wrist and pulling her back and away from the main path until they’re standing between two booths.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go yell at that fucking bastard for showing up here with her.”

“That is not going to make you feel better.”

“Really? Because I think getting to tell him that I absolutely despise him would make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

“For a moment, yeah, but then it all goes away and he gets the satisfaction of knowing that he is still affecting you like this.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. He may be a stubborn ass, but she’s the exact same way.

“Really? You’re telling me this? You, who if I remember correctly, had sex with me to forget about your ex when she showed up, is preaching about momentary satisfaction not being good enough.”

Killian flexes his hand and tries to keep it from balling up into a fist. He’s got the stuffed swan in his left hand, and it’s already straining from how he’s clenching it. Damn thing. He hates how easily it hurts now.

He hates that this is the way Emma is about to be, but if she’s going to have to realize that he’s more than capable of giving what he gets.

Stepping closer to her, Killian dips his head down until his looking into Emma’s eyes. “Aye, that I did, but I was not the first to do it and I also regretted treating you like that. I think it may be smart for you to remember that before you decide to throw stones at me because you’re upset with Neal.”

Her jaw clenches, and her eyes cut away from him. He can feel the heat radiating off of her, and her chest heaves as she breathes. There’s this part of him, something he knows is primal, that can’t look past the way her breasts look as they move or the way that he can see her stomach when he looks down. She’s been wearing a bloody bikini all night, the flannel shirt on top of it not at all buttoned, and he’s tried not to think too much of it.

He has spectacularly failed. The woman is a temptress.

But she is also his best mate, and none of that is what he should be focusing on since it doesn’t even make the list of his priorities at the moment.

“I think I need to be alone.”

“Swan – ”

“It’s…you’re fine. We’re fine. I’ll be on the rooftop at ten like I’m supposed to be so we can all watch explosions in the sky. I just need some time to breathe.”

“Emma.”

She finally looks at him. “I’m not going to talk to Neal. I promise. See you later, okay?”

“In half an hour, love. I’ll save you a seat.”

“Good.”

And then she’s walking away and turning in the opposite direction of Neal and Tamara. Killian, however, can’t seem to do that.

He’s seen Emma upset more times in the past month and a half than he has in the past five years. There have been times when she’s broody and annoyed and mad as hell, occasionally at him, but it’s never been like what he’s seen lately.

It’s never been heartbreak that she’s been attempting to hide.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s never cared this much either.

Right now, though, all he can think about is what a fucking idiot Neal has to be to cheat on Emma and to keep doing things that are going to upset her.

She doesn’t deserve it. No one does.

Well, Neal Cassidy might.

He and Tamara are still standing in line at the Ferris wheel, but Killian now realizes that they’re not in line at all. They’re simply standing there talking with Neal’s hand on Tamara’s ass as she throws her head back in laughter.

If Emma wanted Neal to come here every year, Killian can’t understand why he wouldn’t. They were together for half a decade, and the man couldn’t come once? It’s not asking much. Hell, it’s barely asking anything.

But he’s here with the woman he was sleeping with behind Emma’s back?

Maybe he should have let Emma tell him off because that would feel so damn good right now.

Breathing in, Killian pushes down the urge to walk toward Neal and decides to walk past him. Momentary satisfaction, he reminds himself. If he discouraged Emma from doing it, he can’t be the hypocrite.

Damn does he want to be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately really, for him, Neal seems to want to let him have the opportunity.

“Hey, Jones.”

Fuck.

Killian stops walking and slowly turns on his heels. Cassidy is walking toward him, his girlfriend staying back where they were standing, and Killian is definitely going to rip the head off of this swan before the night is over.

Better it than Neal, he guesses.

(Logistically. He would much rather rip the bastard’s head off, but he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.)

“Cassidy,” Killian greets, but he doesn’t offer anything else.

Neal smiles and laughs before sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging. Is he trying to look nice? Because it sure as hell isn’t working.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? In private.”

“You can talk, but you can talk here. I’ve got somewhere to be in a few minutes.”

Neal’s eyes narrow, and he looks down at Killian’s hand. Out of instinct, Killian wants to pull his shirtsleeves down and cover his scars, but that’s not what Neal is looking at.

“Look, man,” Neal sighs, that same, insincere smile on his face, “I saw you walking around earlier with Emma, and I feel like I’ve got to warn you.”

Oh, this asshole definitely deserves to have his head ripped off.

“Pardon?”

“You and Emma.” He shrugs again while Killian straightens his shoulders. “I always kind of knew you two had a thing going on, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you walking around with her earlier. I’m cool with it and all, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into with her. There are a hell of a lot consequences when it comes to choosing to be with Emma, and they’re not good ones.”

Killian swallows as his teeth start to grind. What kind of bastard is this man? Who the hell does he think he is to tell Killian that there are consequences to being with Emma? Killian wants to laugh, he really does. He wants to laugh and tell Neal that he has no idea what he’s talking about since Killian is most definitely not with Emma.

Mostly, he wants to knock the man’s front teeth out and break his fucking nose. He used to not be this bad. Killian was rarely a fan, but Neal had his redeeming qualities. They could have been friends in a way.

He doesn’t mourn the lost opportunity there.

“What could you possibly know about choosing Emma?” Killian sneers, stepping into Neal’s space. “Because it seems to me that you didn’t, that you did the opposite of that, and for you to think that you have any right to what she does with her life has got to be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“So, you are fucking her then? I was right.”

It’s like he’s just been slapped across the cheek.

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“You wouldn’t be defending her like that if you weren’t.”

He scoffs and closes his eyes, his breathing heavy. “You said there were consequences to choosing Emma, aye? Well, I would still choose her every damn time even though I’m not with her. You, on the other hand, left, and the consequences of that mean I never want to hear about you trying to interfere with her life again. Go spend time with your girlfriend, Cassidy. I’m sure she’d love to know that you’re still hung up the woman you left to be with her.”

“Fuck you.”

Killian bites his tongue and focuses on the feel of the stuffed swan in his hand to keep him from doing something stupid.

“Emma has always deserved better than you. It’s a shame it took you hurting her to see it. Fuck off, Neal. I think it’s time that you moved on.”

“Neal?” Tamara calls from behind them. “Is everything okay?”

Neal blinks, slowly, and then the smile on his face transforms from sinister to charming. “Just catching up with an old friend.”

And then he walks away and goes back to Tamara.

Killian has no idea what just happened. All he knows is that he’s pissed off, still desperately wants to break Neal’s nose, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to act normal around everyone when they’re watching the fireworks.

He just really needs a damn drink.

But he is not paying for an overpriced one when he’s got perfectly good rum at home.

It’s easy to get back to his apartment once he gets out of the crowd. It’s quieter, too, and he can hear voices coming from the rooftop already. The darkness of the night makes it impossible to tell who’s up there, but he’ll find out soon enough. When he walks inside and makes his way upstairs, Skipper is asleep on the couch. He doesn’t bother to do more than lift his head when Killian comes in. Some guard dog.

Killian puts the swan down on the kitchen island, reaches into the cabinets for a bottle of rum, and takes a long sip. He doesn’t need a glass, not yet.

“You planning on sharing that?” Emma asks.

Shit. He didn’t even know she was here yet, but she’s sitting in the dark corner of the living room with her knees pulled to her chest.

“Do you want some?”

“You don’t have my wine, so yeah, yeah I do.”

She stands from the chair and walks over to him, grabbing the bottle out of his hand before taking a long, slow sip. She’s usually not much of a rum drinker, but it does happen on occasion.

“Why aren’t you up on the roof with the others?”

“Didn’t feel like climbing up there yet. You know, it’s really a shame that the fire escape is not on the side of the building that your room is on. Would have saved me once or twice.”

“I’ll have a talk with whoever built this place a few decades ago.”

She huffs and takes another sip before putting the bottle on the counter. “I wasn’t ready to see everyone. I don’t know. I felt like maybe I couldn’t keep it together, and I…well, I felt really damn pathetic.”

“Hey, hey, no, don’t do that. I – ” Killian sighs and reaches forward to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Do you want to go to my room and talk? I know we don’t have our slushies, but I think it can still work.”

“To talk or to…”

His lips press together. “To talk, love. Come on.”

Killian gently pushes Emma out of the kitchen until she’s walking toward his bedroom. He grabs the swan off the counter as a last-minute thought before following her. She doesn’t turn on the lights, so he doesn’t either. Instead he moves to open the curtains on all of his windows so that moonlight filters through. The fireworks will be starting soon, and he doesn’t want to miss them. He’s got a pretty good feeling they won’t make it up to the roof tonight, but he’s fine with that.

His mattress squeaks as Emma settles down, and it shifts when he joins her, the both of them settling against the headboard and under the comforter. It’s silent for awhile, and while Killian thinks Emma is going to take the lead, he finally realizes that she isn’t.

For once, it might have to be him making the first move.

Out of the corner of his eyes, his scars flash silver in the moonlight, and all of the sudden, Killian has this unbelievable need to share something he hasn’t talked about in years.

Something he’s never wanted to tell Emma before, but now, it’s all he can think about.

“Do you know how I got the scars on my arm, love?”

She twists her head. He’s not looking at her, but he can feel her gaze on his face instead of his arm. “No.”

“I was in an accident.”

“When you were in the Navy?”

Killian clicks his tongue. If only.

If only it had been that. He imagines that might be easier to deal with when it’s all said and done, but that’s not at all what happened.

“It was a car accident, actually.” He swallows and braces himself. If he focuses on simply staring at the painting of a sailboat hanging above his television, he might be able to get through this. “I was with my girlfriend at the time. Her name was Milah. We’d been out to dinner, and I was driving us back to my place. The roads were empty. I swear, I’d never even seen them that empty, and our light turned green so I started driving when an SUV ran a red light and crashed right into us in the intersection. I don’t actually know what happened after that, but the police report said we flipped several times before hitting a tree.”

A soft, small hand brushes against his own, and he spreads his fingers so Emma can twine hers together with his. It’s the most comfort he’s felt in ages, so he doesn’t stop himself when he brings their joined hands to his lips.

“Milah died in that accident, while all that happened to me was my hand getting caught in the door and shards of glass leaving some pretty nasty scars. I don’t even know how I stood up again after Liam told me she was gone. I didn’t think I would survive. I was so young and in love, and I thought she and I had the entire world in front of us.”

Emma squeezes his hand, and really, it’s better that way instead of her trying to say anything.

That’s not why he’s sharing this.

“I was so heartbroken. I’d never felt pain like that before, but then, as I started to make funeral arrangements, I got a call from her husband telling me that I was not welcome. I didn’t know she had a husband, that she had a son either, and it was like I was grieving two different things: the woman I’d lost and the woman I thought I knew.”

“Killian.”

“Don’t,” he whispers, pulling their arms over Emma’s shoulder and tugging her closer. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want pity. I simply felt like you deserved to know this about me and to know why I am so unbelievably fucked up when it comes to relationships. I loved a woman who lied to me for years, and I loved her still even after I knew about it. That anger you feel toward Neal? The one that’s mixed with betrayal and sadness and this underlying love, I have felt it. Sometimes I still do, and you are not pathetic for feeling anything that you’re feeling. I don’t care how many times we have to have this conversation. I will tell you the same thing every damn time.”

“Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to listen to you and believe it.”

“It takes time, and while I’m sure one of our friends is much better equip to understand emotions, I know that I understand you, Emma. I always have, and though you piss me off half the time, I’m never going to judge you for anything.”

She sighs, her shoulders moving with it, and then she leans her head over to his shoulder, strands of her hair tickling his chin, and Killian tugs her closer before brushing his lips against her forehead. There’s a loud whistle outside and then an explosion of light that flickers down over and over again as the fireworks show starts. the view isn’t quite the same from in here, the height of the windows not quite right, but he’s not going to complain. There are things much more important than lights in the sky.

“Do you want to hear something stupid?” Emma suddenly asks.

“I always want to hear something stupid.”

“I’ve never won a stuffed animal before. Hell, I’ve never even had one as a kid.”

Suddenly, he gets why it was such a big deal to Emma that Neal come with her to the festival. He understood, partially, but sometimes he forgets that Emma’s childhood wasn’t ideal. It was hard and painful from the few things he’s been honored to hear from her, and even with how much his sucked, it wasn’t like Emma’s. He at least had a few good experiences before his mum died and before his father became one of the biggest asses in the world.

It’s not a competition in who has had a shittier life, but it does help him keep on understanding her. A few days ago she made some off-hand comment about having a few minor run-ins with the law as a teenager, something about stealing food from convenience stories, and it clicked in his mind why she doesn’t like when Neal works at the pawn shop.

She doesn’t want to fall back into her past, and she doesn’t want to take any risks that are going to lead her there.

Knowing that and knowing that Neal must have known too, makes Killian seriously regret not breaking the man’s nose.

“It’s not stupid, love. If it’s important to you, in any way, it’s important to me.”

Her laugh is lost amongst the sound of the fireworks, but he still hears it. It’s a good sound to be able to hear.

“I always wanted to get to play the games as a kid, but I didn’t have the money. So, I don’t know. It was nice. It was stupid, but it was nice. I’ll have to find a place to put it in my apartment even though I’m not sure where in my apartment it would go.”

“On that chair in your bedroom where you put all the clothes you’re supposed to put up but never do.”

“Shut up. Just accept that I’m thankful for it. Don’t make fun of my laundry habits.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll win you however many stuffed animals your heart desires. No questions asked.”

“Then I expect several next year.”

Killian laughs into her hair as something unfamiliar settles in his stomach. “It’s a deal.”

-/-

-/-

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[pollenallergie]

Uncomfortable: Chapter One

The Wallflower

A/N: I recently got inspired to start writing again and since I looooove V!Faust, I figured I'd give writing about him another shot. I used a couple of black metal slang terms in this chapter, they will written in bold and their definitions can be found down at the bottom! Also, thank you so much @ill-skillsgard​ for all of your help with this!!! 

Pairing: V!Faust x Reader/OFC

Description: She wasn’t from his world, that much he knew immediately. He didn’t mean to notice her, but he did. He was too proud to admit it, but she captivated him, she intrigued him, she lured him to her without even trying, without even knowing it. She was too scared to admit it, but he captivated her too, she was drawn to him. They didn't belong together, anybody could see that, but they wanted each other. Their love was strange and, frankly, it made them uncomfortable. 

Warnings: use of adult language, 18+ only

Word Count: 723

   She wasn't from his world, she didn't belong here, that much he knew immediately. Faust didn't mean to notice her, but he did. He certainly wasn't glad that he noticed her because not long after he did, so did his friends. 

   "Look at that fucking poser," the new guy in the group teased as he pointed her out to the group. God, he hated that son of a bitch even more now. 

   "Think she's lost?" another guy chimed in, asking jokingly. The guy was Neck, a close friend of Faust's, but now he couldn't help but be annoyed by him. Of course he was joining in on the pathetic poser's little joke. Everyone in their circle thought that piece of shit new guy was kvlt, well, everyone except for Faust. Faust saw through his little charade, saw him for the poser that he really was.

   "Forget her, gentleman," the more eccentric member of the circle, Draugr, said as he joined the group, "we have business to attend to. We go on in five," he concluded as he ushered the members of his band backstage, leaving Faust and a few others behind with the rest of the metalheads there for the show. 

   The idiotic little poser had gone with them, he was their new lead vocalist, which meant she was temporarily safe from his ridicule. As for Neck, he had the attention span of a puppy. Within seconds of the band's departure, his attention was drawn away from her and towards a more pressing matter, debating how grymm tonight was going to be with a fellow headbanger. 

   Faust couldn't help but roll his eyes at this. It was safe to say that he was getting bored of this life, bored of his circle of friends, bored of the scene in general. He still liked the music, he loved the music, but the scene itself lacked the same flare it once had. It was fun when it was new, but now it had gone stale. The posers had infiltrated, the integrity had long been lost, and the desire to be original, to do something new and innovative had dwindled within the community. It wasn't about the music anymore, it was about the money and the fame, the exact opposite of what the truly evil men who founded Black Metal wanted. This bored Faust, he was bored, or at least that was the excuse he gave himself to explain why his attention kept drifting to her, the mousy girl in the corner. 

   It was obvious to Faust that she at least tried to blend in, what with her shiny new leather jacket that she probably bought the night beforehand, little black dress that was just an inch too long to resemble those the "pumas" usually wore, combat boots with an evident lack of wear to them, and intentionally smudged, dark makeup. Her failed attempt at fitting in was pathetically adorable, she was adorable, all the more reason why she didn't belong there. In a dark, crowded venue filled to the brim with loud, violent, angsty, immature metalheads all looking for any excuse to wreak some havoc, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Despite cowering back in the corner like a wallflower, she still drew so much attention to herself just by being there. 

   It was clear she didn't belong there and yet she so willingly stayed, that intrigued Faust. He kept his eyes on her for the rest of the night, deciding to hang back in a corner on the opposite side of the venue rather than to spend his time in the mosh pit with the rest of the headbangers in order to get a better look at her so maybe, just maybe, he could figure out what she was doing there in the first place. However, despite his persistence, Faust never did figure out why she was at the venue that night.

   One second he was observing her from afar, then Neck beckoned him, yelling out for him to join in the moshing for the final song. Faust shook his head, letting the shorter metalhead know that he would, in fact, not be joining him before reverting his attention back to her. However, when he turned his gaze back to her, he'd found that she was no longer there, gone without a trace as if she'd just disappeared.

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kvlt: adj. usually meant as a way of poking fun at the people who take Black Metal too seriously. Since Faust would obviously be one of those people that took it too seriously, I figured he would use it in less of a joking kind of way and in more of way to describe people like him.

grymm: adj. used to describe something cool, awesome, ‘metal’, wicked, etc. (the world ‘evil’ is also often used this way in metal/black metal slang).

pumas: I’m not sure if this actually a slang term that they use, but I do know that when the group of girls first walked up to the part in Lords Of Chaos, Hellhammer (played by Anthony De La Torre) says “fuckin’ pumas” while pointing at them. So I assume that “puma” is used to refer to a hot, metal chick like the girls that were at the party, the girls that would show up to their shows, their female fans, the girls they would sleep with, etc. It’s sort of like their groupies, but not really because according to Euronymous, “they don’t have any fucking groupies.”

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taglist: no one at the moment (let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist for this story) 

[broadwayandnetflix]

Just Hold Me - Richie Tozier x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Language (it’s IT)

Theme: Angst with increasing fluff towards the end.

Summary: After a distressing nightmare you keep thinking about one person in particular, Richie Tozier. What you don’t know yet is that he has been thinking about you as well.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: just a little note if you ever want to know something about me, inspiration for stories almost seem to come to me at the weirdest times. this one for example came at 2am and I poured this draft out into my phone hunched over a bowl of cereal. It had many grammatical errors, but nonetheless it was something. so there you have it, I saw IT 2 and thus came this.

You jolted awake with a gasp, panting heavily while you sat upright on your mattress. Quickly adjusting to the now pitch-black room, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed.

Eyes darting wildly about, thoughts racing, and palms sweaty. IT still haunted your dreams; there was no question about it. Usually, you could shut bad dreams out, as a justified figment of your imagination.

Except, when you see the potential love of your life, dead, and gutted out in front of you. What are you supposed to do? You know it’s just a dream, a silly dream, but no, it’s traumatic, even if he’s just down the hall.

You didn’t plan to come back to Derry; in fact, after twenty-seven years, you had come to forget the place. Forgetting its people, it’s buildings, aesthetics, and nooks and crannies that only you could pinpoint.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you felt in a strange sense, guilty. Mike poured everything into digging the lot of you out of a massive haystack, into fighting back something that was equally as big, and terrifying.

So even though the mere thought of catching up with old friends made you giddy, the harsh, crushing reality was that all of you were here for one reason, and one reason only.

To kill a demonic, possessed, and fucked up clown.

One in particular that craved for your fear, salivated about it even. So when it manifested into your dreams, you weren’t surprised, even if you were scared shitless.

It only just made you fret about the day ahead of you, knowing that there was work to do and that this was just the beginning.

Especially after last night’s scare in the restaurant, the lot of you dined at. It freaked you out even to consider remembering it, but one thing stuck out to you in particular.

Richie.

Something about seeing him again after all these years, just set you off, straight off. You almost didn’t even notice the fluttered increase within your heart or the way that you couldn’t seem to keep still when he made eye contact with you.

It brought back the waterfall of emotions that you had buried in grade school. The harbored crush that you kept for the trash mouth of a dork that he was. Despite Beverly’s attempts to assure you that he so desperately felt the same back then, you could never believe it. Not even now.

Except at this current moment, all you wanted was him, which was oh so pathetic. Just like the way you laughed like a literal hyena at his offhand quips and comments. Yes, while everyone rolled their eyes in annoyance, you giggled like a goddamn fool.

He made you feel dizzy like you had just finished a roller coaster only for it to jerk forward again.

If only you could just reassure yourself that he was alive, and well. It would help you sleep at night because these recurring nightmares of him dying weren’t helping.

You were so far down deep into your thoughts and criticism that you almost didn’t hear the slight knock at your door. The rustling of your sheets as you peered at your clock brushing you back into reality.

Who was knocking on your door at 3:45am?

Pushing yourself up, you trudge your way over, opening the door with a sour expression.

“How can I-“ you murmured only to stop once you were face to face with Richie himself.

Your jaw-dropping slightly, eyes wide, and now increasingly more alert than before, you swallowed.

He looked exhausted, his hair messy and bedridden, and his eyes focused on anything else but you.

“I, um,” he stammered, “I had an um, why is this so hard?” he whispered to himself. You looked back him blinking slowly wondering if you were still dreaming.

One pinch later, you weren’t.

“Listen, I had a bad dream about you, and I just really needed to check in on you,” he suddenly rushed out, his speech groggy, and jumbled.

Gaping, you stared back at him in surprise, definitely not expecting this outcome. Even more so, he was going through the same exact situation as you.

Well, not entirely, you presumed.

“Come on,” you gestured towards your bed while he trailed behind you.

Plopping yourself down onto it, you stared up at the ceiling, heaving a big sigh. Smiling shyly as Richie did the same, laying next to you.

“Me too,” you admitted after what felt like ages of silence, with only the slight hum of the ceiling fan to fill it.

“I’m sorry what?” he asked.

“I had a bad dream about you too,” you felt his gaze projected onto you now. The room now becoming too warm to your liking with the nerves that now tickled your skin.

“It’s weird, thirteen years old me would be having a stroke right now. You know, being on the same bed as Y/N Y/L/N,” he admitted randomly, causing you to turn over to face him.

He paused before continuing after a slight nudge of acknowledgment came from you.

“You wanna know something Y/N?” you nodded, “I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Isn’t that crazy?” he admitted softly.

You were at a profound loss for words like the air had been physically sucked out of you. This had to be some sort of joke, how could Richie like you. Not only that, you probably looked like an idiot, just laying there and not replying to him because you were so caught off-guard.

“God, I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry, I-“ he cringed, rubbing his hands over his face.

“No!” you yelped.

“No?”

“I just need a second,” you cried, he blinked sitting upright to face you. “I know it’s been a second, but I need more.” The smirk now resting upon his lips was not helping you as he watched you process it.

“I really like you, Richie, and I think I always have.” you breathed out. “I can’t believe I forgot you, I can’t believe I forgot this.” you fretted looking into his eyes, feeling more jittery than anything.

“Oh, thank god,” he huffed before flipping onto his stomach to face you more appropriately.

He paused as if something else had caught his attention, leaving him deep in thought. You couldn’t help but study the man in front of you, seeing the shell of his younger self still resting within him.

Of course, you had a chance to the night before and during the day, but it didn’t quite do him justice. He still had his fluffy mop of hair, his piercing blue eyes, and those awful, yet awkwardly cute glasses. Even in the dark, you still could see him, all of him.

He looked tired, but the way his eyes crinkled, or how his smile grew whenever he looked at you made you practically float.

And then you remembered why he was here, and your little cheeky grin disappeared instantly.

“What?” he wondered aloud.

“I just don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do tomorrow, I just want to close my eyes and sleep for however long this will take,” He looked at you ever so sympathetically, your vision now seeming to grow hazier by the minute.

“I don’t want IT to control my dreams, I don’t want to see you die, Richie. I just want to be able to sleep and not wake up in a cold sweat every night. I just wa-,” you were interrupted by his hands now intertwining with yours.

You exhaled shakingly, daring to meet his warming gaze, trying to distract yourself from the fact that your sweaty ass palms were encased in his.

“I wish I could say that things are going to be better. I mean, hopefully, they are, because if not, we’re fucked,” Richie began only to stop by the large snicker that erupted from you.

“What? I’m trying to be reassuring?” he smirked as he noted the little grin upon your expression.

“You don’t think a killer clown doesn’t constitute this situation as fucked up, to begin with?” you giggled.

“That’s beside the point Y/N, okay before I was rudely interrupted by you,” he squeezed your hands with more reassurance, “I was going to say you are one of the bravest and smartest people that I know. I mean even back then you were such a little shit, we, I loved you for it. If anyone can put Pennywise into his place, it’s you, we all know it.” he spoke his speech quick and jumbled, but it worked.

You practically melted under his gaze, fighting the urge to cower and make some lame counter-argument.

You just wanted to savor this moment, this exact moment where the only issue at hand is just a few bad nightmares.

Sighing, you reach out to reach his glasses, his breath going still while he watched. Peeling them off, you rolled over to put them onto your bedside table. Looking back at him, you gesture towards the side opposite of you on the bed.

“You wanna stay?” you whispered hesitantly.

Nodding, he makes his way over to the side opposite of you as you slide into the covers. His eyes never leaving yours while he mirrors your actions.

“Good because I don’t know if I would’ve been able to sleep peacefully without you here,” you admitted softly.

“Oh come here,” he soothes while pulling you closer to him, now enveloping you with him. “I’ll protect you, honey.” his words full of promise and safety.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For just being you.” you murmur already feeling sleep beginning to overtake you.

Just like that, for the first time in months, you didn’t have any IT controlled nightmares.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Plain Sight

So, I had two very similar requests so I combined this for a fic about an obsessive and stalker-ish Bucky! So this if for bb_s on ao3 and Surri.

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (emphasis on noncon), masturbation, oral, sex pollen, kidnapping, stalking. Let’s all be chill and mind the warnings. If you no likey, no ready.

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Bucky struggles to keep himself busy, until he meets you.

There was a heatwave in New York. Every window in the city was open and the tarmac looked to be melting beneath the sweltering sun. Cars puttered, the endless clouds of exhaust adding to the torrid air. After a long day of work, you were ready to go home and lay in front of your fan and not move. Order in, if you even developed an appetite. At this point, food sounded horrendous.

The mandated black blouse was unbuttoned and slung over our arm, a plain white tank underneath tucked into your sleek black dress pants. Stray hairs stuck to the sheen of sweat across your forehead as you marched down the street in your low heels. Your mission was to get home. All day in the stuffy boutique had done little to relieve the suffocating embrace of the city smog. Grumpy customers had done even less to improve your mood.

As you turned the corner onto your block, a whistle stuttered your step. You quickly righted yourself and continued on as you sensed the leering eyes of the man sitting on the step just a few doors down from your own building. Your heels clicked quickly down the sidewalk as another whistle sounded. You passed the man  as he stood and made to follow you.

“Hey, mama,” He was only a step behind you. You reached into your purse and clutched your mace. You’d have to walk past your building until you lost and sneak around the back. “Lookin’ fine.” He was almost upon you and you readied yourself to run or spray; you weren’t sure yet.

“Leave her alone,” Another voice interjected before the creep could make another comment. You looked over your shoulder as a body stepped between you and the catcalling man. “She’s not interested so go away.”

“Didn’t ask you, dude,” You stopped as the stranger blocked the crude man who was growing irritated by his interruption. You were confused at the entire scene. It was completely normal to deal with nasty remarks but entirely unexpected for another New Yorker to come to your defense. Not to mention this valiant stranger wore a ball cap and canvas jacket in the stolid summer heat.

“Go!” The stranger barked and shoved the creep, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Or do you really wanna lose the rest of your teeth?”

There was a brief standoff but the man merely muttered about the ‘jackass who cockblocked him’ and turned back to his stoop. You breathed out in relief. 

“Thank you,” You said to the man. His back was still to you; a low ponytail poking out from his cap.

“Don’t worry about it,” He turned his head only slightly, revealing a quarter profile before stepping away.

He quickly dodged between cars as he disappeared across the street, leaving you even more perplexed. This city was strange indeed. You shook your head and peeked at the creep on the stoop who was already eyeing up his next victim. You turned on your heel and headed up to your building; eager thoughts of your bed and fan overtook your mind.

=

Bucky always kept his distance. Always six feet back; far enough to look casual if she glanced back or duck into an alleyway. When she did sense him, she would feel around in her purse for the mace she hid there. That was all well and good but it wouldn’t work on him. He’d have her wrist bent and the canister on the ground before she could scream. But that would ruin all his plans.

He had almost blown it just then. Telling off that creep had almost exposed him. She had almost seen his face. She’d be more likely to notice someone she could recognize. But he couldn’t let that creep follow her like that. Couldn’t let her lead him to her front door. So he stepped in and saved her. For himself as much as her. She was his.

He was relieved as he dipped into the alley across the street and turned back to find her back on her route home. She hadn’t thought about it too much. She would likely forget about it before tomorrow. God, he was fucking hot. This jacket was awful in the July heat but the metal arm beneath would be a dead giveaway. He had worked too hard for too long to let the summer get the best of him.

He had first seen her in the winter. He was having a bad day. Another argument with Tony followed by a poor attempt at placating Steve. He didn’t fit in a Stark Tower, he never would. Not after what he had done. It was a pathetic effort by Steve to ingratiate him into his life. There wasn’t a place for him in this time; in this world. Well, not until he met her.

He hadn’t really noticed her at first. She was plain; unimposing. She was bundled up, a wooly scarf under her chin and matching beanie over her hair. He was so distracted as he went over his spat with Stark that he hadn’t noticed the black ice on the sidewalk. Her ‘watch out’ hadn’t been enough to warn him and he fell on his ass with a grunt. He shook his head and growled at himself. She stopped and offered her mittened hand. He stared at it warily.

“If it helps, I did the same thing earlier,” She smiled. That was it. That was the moment he really saw her. “In this very spot.”

He sighed and tilted his head. He took her hand cautiously and let her pretend to help him up. She was nothing compared to him; barely able to offer enough leverage to get him to his feet. He dusted himself off and cleared his throat. A gravelly ‘thanks’ hidden in his grumbles.

“You okay?” She asked, her eyes sparkled up at him. 

“Fine,” He blinked at her and looked down the sidewalk. He nodded at her and carried on his way. This was New York; no one was nice to you unless they wanted something and she was too nice. When he reached the corner and watched her from a distance. Maybe it wasn’t deception; merely naivety.  She didn’t know who he was; didn’t count his crimes against him.

He didn’t stop thinking of her. He tried but the pain in his ass kept reminding him of the scene. He recalled the little remark she had made. If she had been in that exact location twice that day, she probably frequented it most days. He wondered if he returned at the same time if he would see her again. Why? So he could fall on his ass again.

The next day he found himself across the street from the patch of black ice. Sure enough, she came tramping down the snow-framed sidewalk. She slowed near the slippery hazard and sidestepped it. He watched her until she was at the next corner. He followed, catching sight of her just as she entered a boutique on the next street. He checked his watch. Fuck, Steve would be waiting for him.

He made a habit of tracking her route to and from work. She took the subway and walked two blocks from the station to her building. He stayed on the opposite side of the train, blending in with the freaks of the underground. One day, he had spotted her at the mailboxes in the front of her building. With her apartment number up his sleeve, he waited until a delivery man arrived and sneaked in after him.

He found her apartment and mapped it out in his head from the street. Her window faced the building just next door. An ancient walk-up long abandoned and due for demolition whenever the city decided it was pertinent. In this neighbourhood, that could be years. Another day, when she was at work, he ventured back to her building and picked the lock to her apartment. A set of small, undetectable cameras borrowed from Stark Tower were placed throughout; one in the shower, one in the kitchen, another in her small living room, and the last in her bedroom.

Ever since then, he had spent most of his nights in the vacant walk-up. It was easy enough to remove the wood from a boarded up window and slip inside. He would find the room right across from hers and settle in; his phone on the window sill, the screen switching between the cameras in her apartment. The night he had fended off the creep was no different. 

He returned to his place across the city, changed his clothes, and tucked a portable battery in his pocket. He grabbed some take out on his way back and climbed up to his hiding place, unwrapping the chopstick as he peeked through the slats along the window. The floor he was on was slightly higher than her own and he could see straight into her bedroom. There was a space between the boards just big enough for him to see through. He could even get a pair of binoculars in the gap to aid in his observation. 

Her blinds were wide open that night, her fan oscillating just beside the window. Her bed was next to the window and he could see her as she laid across her bed in nothing more than her panties and a white tank top. Her laptop streamed some show or the other, her lights were all out and only the glow of her screen illuminated her figure.

He finished his dinner as he watched her. She wasn’t doing too much. He couldn’t blame her, it was fucking hot. He had his own fan whirring in the abandoned apartment. A portable battery powered the tower fan; a small relief in the boiling space. His phone buzzed and he read the notification as it popped up over the view of her room. It was just Steve. He muted his messages and peered back through the binoculars.

The credits rolled down the small laptop screen and she closed out before she shut the laptop and set it on her night side table. He watched her roll onto her back and pulled out her own phone. She scrolled for a few minutes before tucking it under her pillow. She tossed and turned but he found it hard to see much of her through the dark. He put away the binoculars and focused on his phone. The camera had night vision and allowed a better view. He squinted and double tapped to zoom in. That was interesting. He felt his cock twitch and leaned back in the folding chair, his hand rested on the crotch of his jeans.

-

You were restless. The heat made it nearly impossible to relax and your laptop only added to it. Besides, you were bored with the show. The shark had been jumped quite a few episodes ago. You took out your phone and thumbed through your timeline. You just didn’t care about any of these people or their vacations to Europe. You muttered and shoved your cell under your pillow, falling back heavily on your back.

You spent a couple minutes switching from your back to stomach. Your side wasn’t anymore comfortable and you were once more flat, staring at the ceiling through the dark. You huffed and pressed your thighs together. There was one cure you knew for insomnia. At least, it usually worked. If not, it would at least distract you; relax you, even.

Your fingers crawled down your stomach, your hand slipping under your panties as you parted your legs. You drew a line down the vee of your pelvis and pushed away thoughts of work for fantasies of a man you’d never meet. You pushed between your folds, slowly toying with yourself until your arousal began to stir. As you felt a pool gathering, you spread your juices and focused on your sensitive hood.

Your legs bent slightly as you drew steady circles around your clit. Your other hand pulled down the strap of your tank until your chest spilled out. You grabbed your tit, kneading it as your swirling fingertip coaxed you into a trance. You closed your eyes as your breath hitched. You were sweating even more than before. You slid your fingers down to your entrance and pushed inside with a shudder.

You pressed your palm to your clit as you curled your middle and ring fingers up. The pressure was delicious. You began to moan, losing yourself in the fantasy painted on the inside of your eyelids. You imagined it was another touching you; another inside of you. Moving against you, in and out, in and out. Your legs shot straight as you brought yourself to orgasm, the thoughts of a rugged man on top of you swept you away.

Your hand still and your breath slowed. You withdrew your fingers, the crotch of your panties soaked. You fixed your tank top and slipped out of your underwear, tossing them over the side of your bed. You didn’t need them anyway. You laid on your stomach and buried your head in the pillow. You were suddenly very sleepy.

=

It wasn’t the first time Bucky had cum watching her. He had barely kept himself from making a mess of his jeans. It wasn’t the first time he had watched her cum either. Most times however, she did that in the shower. It was unfortunate that she didn’t do it more often. He often ended up pleasuring himself as she simply laid there or washed herself in the shower. To be honest, he could have burst at the slightest thought of her.

He sighed as he zipped up his pants and packed up. He shoved his empty take out container in the plastic bag and made sure everything was in its place. As he descended the stairs, he felt himself shaking still. His cock was already throbbing again. He didn’t know how much longer he could just watch. His need was becoming more urgent. As was hers, he surmised, as he smiled at the thought her touching herself.

He was almost ready; there were just a few more things he needed.

-

Another long day at the boutique. It was just as hot as before but it was as if your body was attuning to the constant misery. Days spent in all black trying to look like you weren’t drowning in sweat only to go home and melt in front of your fan. It was almost sad but you didn’t even have the energy to feel bad for yourself. You just wanted one day to be at room temperature. You didn’t have to be cold; only comfortable.

When you got out of work, you didn’t even both unbuttoning your blouse. There was nothing which could truly cool you off. You caught the subway and strolled the two blocks to your apartment. You climbed the stairs and nearly fell through the door as you longed to sit in front of the tepid wind of the fan. You stripped down to your tank top and panties and draped yourself over the bed as the propeller shot air over you. You were so hot you were itchy.

You laid face down, arms spread as you enjoyed the delight of doing nothing. You could’ve just gone to sleep to get away from the heat. You sighed and didn’t move for a couple minutes. Your eyes shot open as you heard a creak and you lifted your head. Before you could turn over and look to find nothing but an old apartment playing tricks, you were tugged by your ankles off the bed. As you clung to the comforter, your legs were released and and thick arms hugged you as you struggled.

“Shhh,” You heard the soft hush as you were pricked in the neck; a surge running through your veins before your limbs grew heavy and your head drooped. Your eyes closed and you were left to wade through the dark.

-

Slowly, consciousness returned to you, your eyelids opening heavily as they fluttered. Your shoulders and back were sore. Lifting your head was difficult and you found yourself suspended by your wrists, your toes barely touched the cold floor. You rested your weight on your tiptoes, easing some of the strain from your arms. You looked around at the airy room, the space lit in soft red hues. You didn’t know what was more of a shock; that you weren’t sweltering or that you had awoken in this foreign place.

You were entirely naked as you hung helpless and weak. You groaned as your thighs rubbed together and sent a ripple up your spine. You felt horribly empty and the thrumming in your pussy pushed itself to the front of your mind. It was an unnatural yearning. One you had never felt before. A desire so succinct that it made your muscles ache. What was going on?

“A minor sedative,” A voice made you flinch sending another unwanted tickle through your loins. You were turned by a single hand on your side. A man with long brown hair stood before you, his features limned in scarlet shadows. His left arm shone and it took a moment to realize it was metal. What the fuck? “Mixed with a stimulant.”

“W-what?” Your voice was hoarse. “Who are you?”

“In due time,” He removed his hand and you wanted desperately for him to touch you again. “You see, the stimulant takes a few hours to kick in so naturally, it was most convenient to knock you out first. Plus, it made transportation so much easier.”

“What am I doing here?” You croaked. What was wrong with you? Your insides hurt so bad. You bit your tongue to keep from whining.

“So many questions, doll,” He reached out to touch your cheek and you found yourself pressing your face into his hand. Like a cat begging for pets. “You can just call me ‘Sir.’ And as for why you’re here,” He let his hand trail down your neck and between your breasts, “You should be able to guess it. Surely, you feel it by now.” His hand stopped just above your pelvis and you leaned towards him without thinking. “Mmm, yes, you are.”

He backed away as you whimpered, rubbing your thighs together as your pussy ached. You need some sort of stimulation. Anything. Your clit felt like it was going to explode. He smirked and pulled his tee shirt over his head. His eyes never left you as he undressed and your eyes rolled back as you tried to resist the painful urge within.

“Look at me,”  You tried to shake away the haze as it closed in and forced yourself to obey. He stood before you holding his hard cock; his hand glided along his length. The sight made you bite your lip and you parted your legs just a little. “That’s it, doll.” He let go of himself and stepped nearer but not close enough to touch. “What do want, hmm? Your mouth on me or my mouth on you?”

You exhaled and squeezed your eyes shut. You clasped your lips together, praying that you could keep the words inside. His fingers tickled your collarbone and you trembled. “On me.” You blurted out.

He gripped your chin and forced your head straight. “Open your eyes,” You listened and stared into his deep blue irises. His pupils widened as they devoured you. “Now, ask me nicely, doll.”

“Please, s-sir,” You stuttered out, “Please, put your mouth on me.”

A small whinny followed your plea as a shock went through you. If he didn’t touch you soon, you were going to cry. He chuckled and his hands brushed over your sides, along the curve of your hips and thighs as he lowered himself to his knees. He cupped your ass and you threw your legs over his shoulders eagerly.

You were confused as you watched his blue eyes focus on your pussy. This stranger had brought you to this weird place and stripped you down yet you were desperate for his touch. You had no idea who he was or where you were but all you could think of having him inside of you. As he drew his tongue along your folds you hung your head back and moaned. It felt so good. His cool tongue was like a splash of cold water on your hot pussy. He nestled closer, his tongue lapping at the river that flowed from you. 

Your breath was so ragged you were sure you’d pass out once more. You were almost choking on your tongue as his tongue twirled around your bud and your thighs closed on him like a vice. You were jibbering as the pain in your wrists faded for the pleasure blooming in your pelvis. Your frantic reaction only seemed to drive him as his tongue worked more furiously and he hummed. Your nerves flurried and you cried out, your breathing lending a rasp to your moans as the orgasm ripped through you from head to heel.

The stranger pulled his head from between your legs and gazed up at you as he licked his lips. You were embarrassed at the glisten all around his mouth. You couldn’t believe it felt so good. It shouldn’t feel this good. 

“It’s okay, doll. The stimulant just enhances the body’s desires. It’s all you.” He stood and his hands went to the strap around your wrists. “Now, you’re going to be a good girl for me and return the favour.” You sucked in your lip as your need only intensified. “I know it hurts, doll, but there’s only one way to ease the pain...you just gotta be patient.”

He worked at untying your wrists. You fell to your feet with a wobble and rubbed your shoulders as you hugged yourself. His hands were on your upper arms and he let out a long breath. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. “On your knees.” You looked up at him with a pout. You knew it was the only way. It hurt so bad. You lowered yourself shakily and he grinned. “You know what you need to do, doll.”

You blinked and looked to his cock. He spread his legs and bent as you reached up to wrap your fingers around him. He was taller than you. You stroked him as you stared down his cock, moistening your lips with your tongue. It was a lot to take. More than you ever remember taking before. You pressed your lips to the head of his cock and slowly stretched them over it. You held your tongue firmly along his shaft as you welcomed him deeper.

You struggled to breath as he pushed into your throat, stretching your neck to accommodate him. You kept your hand on his cock so that you didn’t need to take all of him. You started your motion, the pressure building in your pussy and you reached down to touch your pulsing clit.

“Ahh,” He pulled your hair and forced himself further into your throat, “I didn’t say you could touch.” You whipped your hand away from yourself and he nodded, watching your head as it bobbed along his length. “That’s it. Ohhhh, so good. I knew it, I just...You must have been so lonely, doll.”

Your eyes widened but you couldn’t really question his meaning with his cock down your throat. You gagged a little but kept your stomach from revolting. The pain was so intense. You could feel your juices dripping down your thighs. You were shaking as you worked his shaft more vigorously; hoping for your own release to follow.

His hands closed around your head as he thrust into your face to his limit. You slapped his thigh as he came down your throat without warning. You swallowed and he pulled out, cum and spit coated his cock and your lips. You leaned forward on your hands as you fought to catch your breath and he moved from in front of you.

“Stand up, doll,” He ordered and you coughed as you rose with a tremble.

He was behind you and you nearly yelped as his arms wrapped around you. He toyed with your tits as you pressed yourself to him hungrily, a shiver running the length of your spine. His cock was still wet as it rubbed against your back. He pinched your nipples between his fingers and grinded into you. You were panting again as your nerves bounced beneath your flesh.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” He spoke in your ear as he held you to him. “Say it nicely, now.”

“I want--I want you---ugh-h-h, I want you inside--of me, s-s-s-sir,” You stammered as every muscles in your body began to jitter. “Please, help me.”

“Alright, doll, since you said it so sweetly,” His metal hand cupped your tit as his other slid down to your pelvis, pushing on it until you arched your back. “Yeah, just like that.” He bent his knees and lined himself up. He entered you slowly and you reached back to grab onto him, your hands on his hips as your nails sunk into his flesh. “Oh, you want it like that?” He slammed into you all at once and you exclaimed.

He bottomed out and stayed there for a minute. You could hear his heart hammering in his chest. He held you firmly as he began to rock in and out of you. You curved your back more and more as he thrust into you. You wanted more. Even as he filled you to your limit, you needed more. His fingers slipped down to your clit and he caressed you.

An unending moan rose from you and the sensations strung together until they twined tightly. As the tension broke, your moan turned to a flat out holler and you came in a violent spasm. As he continued to fuck you, the orgasms didn’t stop. They were only seconds apart as the ecstasy washed over you again and again. Your felt ready to explode as your walls twitched around him.

“Do you want my cum, doll?” His voice was smoky as he lifted you to your tiptoes, his cock barreling into you without relent. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, sir, yes, yes, yes,” Your head was lolling back and forth as you struggled to hold yourself upright. “Yesssssss.” You felt him cum and your head fell forward as he rode out his climax. You purred as he pulled out and the mixture of both your cum streamed down your legs.

He turned you carefully in his arms, brushing the loose hair away from your forehead. He bent to smell you; your sweat, your sheer arousal. His metal arm was around your back and he reach down to lift your leg with his other, entering you again as your pulse began to even out. You were limp in his embrace, hanging there as your head fell back and you gasped.

“Oh, doll,” He growled into your neck, “We’re not even close to finished.”

+

tags: @thepettyavenger @tuyetnhivo @thosecikinnn @glitterypinkkitty @thoughtlesstales @selinbaskaya @vitamingrant @lilithhellfire @bbyspiiice @blackpantherimagines @kweenkxtrina @heavenlyblyss @letsagomario @collette04 @secretlyactivated @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @asleep-amid-the-flowers @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @crownofrowan @sunstarskyhappiness @xxxelettaxxx @rainbowkisses31 @xdatbitch @quant-um-fizzx @peaceloveyesh @scarletlingeries @breezy1415 @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @thoughtlesstales @kxllyxnnx @calspixie @imdiegohargreeves @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-damn-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @lanabanana-86 @nerdypinupcrystal @notyourtypicalrose @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @stuckybarton @ruff-m3rc @heartbeats-wildly @tea-with-seb @bodhi-black @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @directionerfae @kyllorren @captainarp @hardygal69 

[chimmycharmed]

nevermind (one-shot)

Title: NEVERMIND (alt:  I love you, hyung) Words: 5,619 Ships: Yoonmin, slight Yoonjin, implied Vmin. Synopsis: Jimin thought love meant staying, so when Yoongi left he thought love meant coming back. But love is more complicated than that.  Genre: Rapper!Suga x ContemporaryDancer!Jimin, exes au, angst, implied smut. Warnings: Heartbreak, cheating, abandonment. Author’s note: Listen to Mean It (stripped) - Lauv ft. LANY while reading.

PART I: I DON’T MIND 

Love never meant staying. Park Jimin never knew what that meant until he met Min Yoongi.  

It was summer at the time. He was a contemporary dancer that was just dragged by his best friend to an underground rap scene because he was a fan of it, Jimin on the other hand, couldn’t care less.

 “Taehyung-ah, you really go to these events?” A whine Taehyung knows all too well.

 “Events.” Taehyung scoffed, dragging Jimin by the arm in the middle of the crowd so they have a perfect view of the next challenger. “It’s a rap battle, Jimin-ah. It’s not that formal, aish.”

 Jimin never understood his best friend’s fascination with rap and hip-hop. For one, Taehyung was a classical musician. He plays Bach and Beethoven on the violin, piano, and sax. That’s even how they met, he was part of the orchestra to one of his ballet pieces.

 They found themselves near the front row, the MC known to the fans as RM called the next challenger and that was the first time he saw him. 

 Bleached blonde, pale but not sick, sporting a smug look on his face. He looked like he could walk the talk judging by the way he dressed: shirt, jersey, a snapback, and a couple of piercings on both ears.

 “Ayo Suga!” RM exclaimed as the rapper made his way to the stage. “What’s your motivation for challenging j-hope today?”

 “We have a score to settle.” For a small guy, he was intimidating Jimin thought. J-hope on the other hand just laughed at his contender. Not the kind of laugh where he thought this Suga guy was pathetic. Just laughed like he was making a joke. He seemed like the guy to laugh at everything.

 “Okay, and the rap battle begins in 1... 2... 3!” The MC started the countdown.

 It was j-hope’s turn first, he rapped like he was mocking his competition. “Ya, j-hope’s really good at this type of rap, and his flow change? Don’t get me started.” Taehyung explained with his boxy smile, his eyes glued to the stage.

Then it was his turn. Suga rapped so many syllables so fast Jimin really stood there shocked. It’s as if he gave j-hope no time to rebut, he ended him right then and there. Everyone could feel the tension, j-hope was walking towards Suga looking pissed off.

“Wait, are they going to fight?” Jimin was both scared and concerned. He was just looking at Suga. Tae just had a smug look on his face, and then Jimin saw why. RM looked like he was stopping j-hope from going too close to Suga but instead, he too rapped. The two competitors began laughing, and it dawned on him: it was just a ploy.

 All three rappers were now facing each other in a circle, spitting fire, and Jimin didn’t realize it now, nor will he admit in the future: they were good, scratch that, they were amazing. “Ddaeng! I fucking love this track so much!” Taehyung squealed like the fanboy he is.

 “Wait, so they were just playing the audience?” Jimin asked, confused.

 “Dude literally everyone here except you knows they’re the best of friends. The best rapline in Seoul if not in South Korea.” Taehyung explained, suddenly dragging Jimin by the arm to take him to the side of the stage. “Come on, I’m introducing you to them.”

 “You know them?” As much as Jimin was surprised, he immediately shut up when he was face to face with the trio.

 “Hyungs! I want you to meet my best friend and soulmate, Jimin.” Jimin rolled his eyes mentally, he always asked Taehyung not to call him soulmate in front of new people because it more often than not gives the wrong impression.

 “Hi! I’m Namjoon.” RM said, Jimin was surprised on how formal he got all of a sudden, was this the same rapper on stage a while ago? He extended his hand and he shook it.

 “I’m your hope, but you already knew that by now.” J-hope smiled. “I’m Hoseok.” It was his turn to shake Jimin’s hands.

 “What’s the use of having a stage name when we just give out our real ones?” Suga whined from the side. “Well, I’m Yoongi. I guess.” He still looked so cool while shaking his hand. They all did, Jimin thought but Yoongi... There's just something about his presence.

 “Nice to meet all of you, hyungs.” Jimin even did a slight bow as a sign of respect which made Yoongi smile.

 “Are you staying for drinks, Taehyung-ah?” Yoongi asked.

 Namjoon and Hoseok looked at each other in surprise, Jimin didn’t know what that meant. “Hyung, you know I don’t drink.” Taehyung laughed. “But Jimin is quite the drinker so he can drink for the both of us.”

 “Ya, Taehyung.” Jimin scolded.

 “What? Let’s stay a bit longer. You don’t have any practice tomorrow right?” Tae pleaded to his soulmate. Jimin knows he couldn't say no to that.

 “Yea, stay a bit longer.” Jimin felt Yoongi’s gaze on him, it felt alluring, it felt right.

 “Okay.” How could he possibly say no now?

 There was a bar area in the scene, Namjoon, Hoseok and Tae were looking for a table while Jimin was with Yoongi since he asked to accompany him in getting drinks.

 “You drink soju?” Jimin nodded to answer. “I’ll order 5 but between you and me, I think they’ll just share one bottle.” Yoongi laughed as he gave Jimin 2 bottles then proceeded to carry the other 3 on his own. 

 “Why is that?” Jimin raised a brow.

 “The 94 liners aren’t that much of a drinker.” Yoongi answered. “How old are you?”

 “I’m a 95 liner, like Tae.”

 “Ah, your soulmate.” Yoongi nodded, sounding dry.

 “It’s not like that, we’re just eternal platonic friends,” Jimin explained getting flustered not knowing why. “It’s an inside joke.”

 “So you’re available then?” Yoongi cocked his brow.

 “Huh?” Jimin was surprised by his straightforwardness. But he couldn’t continue to answer as they made their way to their table.

 “So Jimin, what do you do?” Namjoon asked, now fixing the table for the bottles to be placed.

 “Oh, I’m a contemporary dancer.” Jimin said, sitting beside Tae while Yoongi sat beside Hoseok.

 “Okay, Namjoon pay up. I told you he was a fancy dude like this one.” Hoseok nudged Tae, teasing.

 “Okay, I thought you were an underground street dancer.” Namjoon reached for a bill and gave it to Hoseok.

 “How come?” Jimin was surprised at the observation.

 Yoongi replied instead, “You stand like a dancer, we just didn’t know what kind.”

 “I told Namjoon that if you were an underground street dancer I would’ve heard of you by now.”

 “Unless you’re not good.” Yoongi scoffed. “But I don’t think that’s possible.” Did he just wink at me? Jimin thought.

 The night went on filled with shots and laughter. Yoongi was right, they ended up drinking 2 bottles each because Namjoon and Hoseok tapped out early. Tae had to go home earlier because he forgot he was going to an art gallery out of town the next day. Jimin insisted on staying, he was having so much fun.

 Jimin never liked going home, it just wasn’t a place he’d like to stay. He was always at practice or out on a bar trying to have fun with his friends. This wasn’t like the regular stuck up dancer crowd he’s used too. They were fun. They were unpredictable, it made him loosen up. That must be the reason he stayed tonight. It was that.

 Or the fact that Yoongi’s hand suddenly rested on his knees after sitting beside him after Tae left. Good thing he was intoxicated, he could use that as an excuse for blushing profusely.

 “Shall we call it a night?” Namjoon asked his hyung. Jimin found out quickly that he was the leader of the trio despite not being the eldest, during their stories over drinks.

 “Let’s.” Yoongi said, standing up. “I’ll drop Jimin at his place.”

 Everyone in the table knew where this was headed, if Tae was here he would’ve known it too. Jimin had his fair share of one night stands. He was a looker after all. He knew the drill. The guy will offer to give him a ride home, he’ll ask if he wants a drink. They go up to his place and things happen.

 And that’s what exactly happened with him and Yoongi. Except that, it wasn’t just all physical sex. They shared laughs while figuring out who’s bottoming, and Jimin knew Yoongi wanted to top, so he let him.

 He was good at it, Jimin never knew he could cum that hard. Twice for that matter. The first by Jimin discovering what tongue technology actually meant and the other by him topping.

 After that Jimin knew that the guy will probably say goodbye and will never show up again. But Yoongi was the exact opposite. He asked if he could stay the night. And in the morning, Jimin woke up to him cooking breakfast.

 “You’re still here?” It was more of a question than a statement.

 “I was thinking you’re hungry.” Yoongi smiled, putting the eggs on Jimin’s plate. “Do you think I’d just leave like that?”

 “Yes.” Jimin answered quite honestly.

 “If I just left, it would be awkward wanting to see you again would it?” Yoongi said, sitting beside Jimin. “Unless I overstepped and you don’t want to see me anymore?”

 “I never had a fuck buddy before.” Jimin’s innocence made Yoongi chuckle, he forgot he was younger than him after all.

 “Then I guess I’ll have to date you then.” He flashed his teeth towards the younger lad. “Is that okay?”

 A smile crept on Jimin’s face. “I don’t mind.”

PART II: CHANGE YOUR MIND

 Jimin never meant to find a home in Min Yoongi, but when autumn came he found himself moving Yoongi’s stuff in his place. Not everything, but small things: his toothbrush, his favorite pair of sweats, his noise-canceling headphones.

 Small things that meant Yoongi will stay in his life. Things were going well. Whenever Jimin had a performance, Yoongi always bought him roses. After practice, Jimin always went to Yoongi’s underground performances even without Taehyung.

 Sex was great, but their companionship grew stronger. This must be what home felt like. This must be what love means. 

 “Are you sure about this?” Yoongi asked Jimin who was sitting on a chair of a tattoo parlor. He looked nervous but sure.

 “I really like your song, and I want it tattooed on me as a birthday gift to myself.” Jimin had a wide smile on his face.

 “You like me too, why not have a tattoo of my name?” Yoongi joked.

 “Only if you tattoo mine on you.” Jimin teased.

 “I’m good with piercings, tattoos aren't just for me Jiminie. You already talked me into dying my hair this shade of green.” Yoongi will never let Jimin down for it, but Jimin thought mint suited him well.

 “You’re just chicken, hyung.” Jimin rolled his eyes to which Yoongi snickered.

 “Ya, you’re disrespecting your hyung now eh.”

 “No. I love you, hyung.”

 It was an unconventional first ‘I love you’ from Jimin, he never expected it to be in a tattoo shop waiting for his turn. But Yoongi was there. And he just needed to say it. And he thought he needed to hear it by now. And that was all that mattered.

 “I love you too, Jiminie.” He said before kissing him fully on the lips.

 “Ehem.” The tattoo artist finally arrived with the needle and ink, if Yoongi remembered it correctly his name was Jungkook – the youngest tattoo artist in the area that got acclaim in some TV show.

 “Sorry.” Jimin was embarrassed, but Yoongi sat beside him.

 “Let’s start?” Jungkook received a nod from a shaking Jimin.

 “Hyung, hold my hand?” Yoongi entwined his fingers with Jimin’s. And he didn’t let go until it was done.

 Just like that, Yoongi’s song was a permanent fixture on Jimin’s body and life. They went home that night happy. 

 “Aish, Jimin stay still so I can put on some ointment.” Yoongi holding up a shirtless Jimin in bed. He acts his age sometimes.

 “It’s so itchy.” He whined.

 “Well, that’s part of the healing process. You wanted this right?” Yoongi smirked.

 “You’re so mean to me, hyung!” Jimin was silenced by a more passionate kiss compared to the one in the tattoo shop.

 “If I could kiss it better, I would.” Yoongi rested his forehead on Jimin’s.

“Just kiss me instead.”

 That night, they made love while reminding each other how much they meant to each other. Jimin knew that he could live like this his whole life.

 But winter came one year, and Yoongi left. Like he disappeared into thin air. Jimin was just coming home from practice. Yoongi wasn’t texting. Jimin was calling and he couldn’t reach him. He came home and Yoongi wasn’t there. But everything he owns was still in place. 

 Little reminders that Yoongi stayed, little reminders that Yoongi left.

 Jimin went to Yoongi’s apartment, and his landlady doesn’t know where he is. He went to the underground rap bar where they first met, Hoseok was just shocked. They too couldn’t contact him.

 Jimin was going to have a panic attack, he knew that. He couldn’t just leave, he can’t. They loved each other. Right? Namjoon pulled Jimin to talk to him at the parking lot.

 “Jimin.” Jimin was already crying, panicking. Namjoon had to put his arms on his shoulders to calm him down and have him stay still. “It’s Jin-hyung.”

This was the exact time you could hear Jimin’s heart shatter into pieces. Namjoon didn’t need to say anything else. He knew who Jin was to Yoongi.

He was the first person Yoongi gave his heart to. Yoongi was never clear why they broke up, but Jimin knew that there was a hole in Yoongi’s heart when Jin left, and now his looked the same with Yoongi gone.

 Jimin went home that night breaking down to an empty bed filled with Yoongi’s stuff. In the next few weeks, Jimin couldn’t eat, he couldn’t get up, he couldn’t go to practice, let alone perform.

Taehyung had to physically manhandle him to take one bath after a week.

“Taehyung-ah, what did I do wrong?” Jimin sulked in the bathtub while Tae just sat on the toilet seat cover, hurting for his friend.

“Jimin, you didn’t do anything.” He tried to comfort him, his heart was just as hurt as his soulmate.

“Then why am I the one left alone?” He cried again, Tae just hugged him. Tight.

After a few months, Jimin got back to work. But he was downgraded to a backup dancer again, he knew it was coming after not showing up for months. He should be thankful the company gave him another chance.

Months went on like he did before meeting Yoongi. He went to work, he went shopping with Taehyung, he went home, and repeat. Yoongi’s stuff was placed in a drawer he never dared to look into again.

 Then Jimin’s birthday came, and Taehyung threw him a small party with his dance troop. Taehyung wanted to rid Jimin of memories of Yoongi, it was his birthday after all. It was all about him. Tae wanted Jimin to stay at his place so he won’t be alone, but Jimin wanted to go home to his apartment.

 He was tipsy and tired, until he found Yoongi sitting in the middle of his living room. His hair now dyed black.

 “Hi.” He said, softly already looking apologetic. “Happy birthday.”

 Jimin’s mind must be playing tricks on him. Memories played back in his head. The first birthday spent with him, getting a tattoo of his song. The next birthday where Yoongi cooked for him and threw him a party, the third one where they took a trip to Busan.

 This was supposed to be his first birthday without him, but here he was on the living room sofa looking like the love of his life. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi began to tear up. “I need to explain a lot to you, I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 Jimin walked towards him and Yoongi was prepared for the worse, for a good hearing, for a fist on his cheek, but Jimin’s arms were suddenly wrapped around his neck, his face buried in his chest. “You’re here. You’re real.”

 “Jimin, I’m sorry.” Yoongi finally broke down, and Jimin did too.

 “If I forgive you, will you promise not to leave me again?” Jimin was shaking as Yoongi pulled back to look at him in the eye.

 “I won’t make the same mistake.” And Jimin felt his lips on his once more.

 He thought about the last time they kissed and how he was so devastated that it didn’t last longer. But Yoongi came back, and he knew the feelings never really went away. It was just buried beneath all the effort to make him seem okay again.

 That night they made love for the first time in a long time and Jimin didn’t want to fall asleep until Yoongi reassured him that he wasn’t going anywhere. He woke up with Yoongi making breakfast for him again. Like he never left.

 “We need to talk.” Jimin said as he sat down at the dining table, he was happy he came back but that meant he left the first place.

 “We do.” Yoongi sighed, placing some fried eggs on Jimin's plate like he did the first time they spent the night together.

 And so the tale began, on how one night Jin came back and asked for another chance and how Yoongi wasn’t sure all of a sudden what to do. How Jin asked him to let him prove it to him, how he asked Yoongi to come with him to Busan for a film fest he was a part of since he was an actor, how they stayed there for a while to see how things go.

 How Yoongi realized he couldn’t do this to Jimin, how everywhere he went in Busan reminded him of their trip on Jimin’s birthday. How he only realized that he just missed Jin, but didn’t really love him anymore. Not in the way he loved Jimin. How he called it off and mustered the courage to go back to Jimin, not knowing if he’ll accept him.

 “How do you plan on making it up to me?” Jimin said with his eyes closed, thinking hard.

 “I don’t know, but if I have to make it up to you my whole life I will.” Yoongi placed his hand on top of his, before entwining their fingers together like he did when he comforts him.

 “Did you expect I’ll just be waiting here for you until you came back?”

 “I was hoping you would, but I would understand if you didn’t.” If honesty can be heard, this must be what it sounds like.

 “But I did.” Jimin finally opened his eyes to look at Yoongi, gripping his hand a bit tighter – a signal to return back the comfort he was given. “I don’t know how you’ll make it up to me, but I know that includes not leaving me again.”

 “I love you, Jimin.” Yoongi assured him with a soft voice. “I’m sorry this had to happen for me to realize that. I never stopped loving you.”

 “I love you, hyung.” The gap between their faces was growing smaller and Yoongi looked at Jimin to seemingly asking for a silent permission. When Jimin closed his eyes, he knew the answer.

 They shared a kiss, another first of many kisses since they got back together. Jimin finally thought he could be happy again. But they had a long way to go, not everything fell back to place. Taehyung was frustrated that Jimin just let him back into his life. They had a bit of a falling out, and Jimin didn’t have the energy to work on that, he was already working hard to fix things with Yoongi. 

Jimin suggested they finally move in together, but Yoongi was still hesitant. He was always vocal about wanting to have his own space. Fights about Yoongi leaving him still ensued. There were pockets of happiness during these years but Jimin began to think if these small moments were enough to be defined as happiness. 

He knew he couldn’t control Yoongi, love shouldn’t do that. But he could control what he felt, what he did. He chose to look at their lives in rose-colored glasses. And he decided to take matters into his own hands.

 That meant he bought a ring. Placed it in his drawers he knew Yoongi wouldn’t look into and waited for the right moment. Jimin wasn’t sure of the timing, but he was sure about Yoongi and that was enough. He thought if it was time, he would know.

 But days went on and they both got extremely busy with work but Jimin was fine with that as long as he went home to him. But even when they were together, he felt like Yoongi just wasn’t there. He knew something was wrong, but he chose to trust Yoongi.

 Until one winter, Yoongi came by again with a bag, sporting a serious look on his face. He plopped down on the sofa, sighing. “We need to talk.”

 Jimin knew where this was going, he couldn’t say he was surprised but he just really hoped for the best, he really hoped this wasn’t an option. “Did you change your mind?” He asked.

PART III: OUT OF MIND

 Jimin imagined 2 scenarios of the cause of their impending breakup. First, is that Yoongi found someone else, I mean, that’s what happened the first time right? The second was Jimin himself finding someone else, but knowing how much he loved Yoongi, that was highly unlikely. But here they were, spending a few minutes here during the calm before the storm.

 It was a vague question, Jimin knew that when he asked. However, the fact that Yoongi did not answer and just waited for Jimin to sit beside him, he knew the worst is about to come.

 And so Jimin sat beside him and Yoongi moved slightly to face him. “You didn’t answer, so I guess that means yes.” Jimin continued.

 “Are you still happy?” Yoongi shook his head while asking.

 “You’re not.” This time, it was more of a statement than a question.

 “We haven’t been okay since I came back.” He admitted. “And I think you know that.”

 “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have left in the first place.” Jimin glared, Yoongi looked away uncomfortably. “And now you’re leaving again, huh?”

 “You told me if I forgive you, will you promise to not leave me again?” Yoongi said calmly. “Did you? Forgive me?” He was met with silence. “So, don’t put this all on me.”

 “Are you fucking serious, Min Yoongi?” Jimin spat, his body began to tremble. “You left, without a warning. To try again with your ex. And you expect me to be okay with it?”

 “I don't, but if you’re not okay with it then why accept me back?”

 “Why are you acting like it’s a bad thing that I accepted you back?!” Jimin’s voice began to rise.

 “Jimin, it’s been 4 years and I know you still haven’t forgiven me.” Yoongi pointed out. “I’m doing my best here too, you know. Yes, I left. It was wrong, I hurt you but in these 4 years didn’t I ever make it up to you? Not even for a bit?”

 Jimin couldn’t answer that. He was so stuck in his own hurt that he never thought he was hurting Yoongi. “Yoongi. When you left, all I could think about is what did I do wrong? Why was I not enough? Not even enough for you to say goodbye?” His voice began to shake.

 “That was on me, Jimin.” Yoongi held his hand, but Jimin didn’t want to feel his comfort knowing he was going to leave again. “We’ve been through this narrative time and time again. Aren’t you tired?”

 “Of course I am, but I choose to look at the times when we were happy.” Jimin began to break down in tears. “That kept me going even when I wasn't."

 “You’ve always been the stronger one in this relationship.” A tear began to fall on Yoongi’s cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

 “I wasn’t okay when you left, why do you think I’ll be okay now?” This must be the Anger part in the 5 stages of grief, Jimin thought.

 “Because I’m leaving you so we can both be happy!” Yoongi’s voice rose, trying to talk sense into Jimin. “I don’t want us to end up hating each other. I love you so much-.”

 “THEN WHY ARE YOU LEAVING?”

 “BECAUSE I’M NOT HAPPY!” The screamfest ended as quickly as it began. “Don’t you see how frustrating it is? To love you so much but not feel happy?” Yoongi let go of him to run his finger through his hair in frustration.

 “That doesn’t make sense.” Jimin coughed a laugh, he knew he was fucked – laughing and crying at the same time.

 “I know it doesn’t. But I know it’s selfish for me to stay in a relationship unhappy.” Yoongi looked at Jimin once more, letting him know how genuine he felt. “I know this is selfish too but we tried to make it work right? But nothing happened and it’s been years.”

 Jimin began to speak slowly, carefully choosing the words he was about to say. “How long?” He stated, “How long have you’ve been feeling this way?”

 “I don’t know, but one day I realized I was just dragging myself to see you. How I needed you because I was used to you because I love you.” Yoongi didn’t know if these were the right words to not hurt Jimin, but he knew he would hurt him whatever he’ll say. “You don’t deserve someone who just forces themselves to be with you.”

 “Is Jin back?” Jimin wanted a logical explanation for this. So this must be the reason, right?

 “No.” Yoongi answered straight, and Jimin knew in his heart that it was the truth.

 “You know I always thought that if we were going to break up, it’s because one of us cheated.” Jimin was just throwing his thoughts unfiltered. “I never thought we would end like this.”

 “Then let’s be thankful we didn’t end up like that.” Yoongi tried to suggest.

 “You know the funny thing about this?” Jimin snickered. “It’s the fact that I have an engagement ring tucked in one of my drawers waiting for the right time.”

 “I know about it,” Yoongi admitted slowly to Jimin’s surprise. “I was looking for my hoodie one time, and I saw it.”

 “When did you see it?” Jimin didn’t know whether he wanted to know the answer.

 “Last month.” Yoongi breathed.

 “So.” Jimin was crying again. “You really thought this through.” He was breaking up knowing that Jimin was planning on proposing.

 “I did.” Yoongi broke down this time. “I’m sorry, Jimin. But I can’t be the one you need. I can only love you, but I think we both know that’s not enough.”

 “You have to choose me to. But you chose yourself.”

 “Then choose yourself too,” Yoongi suggested. “You’ve worked so hard on us, it’s time we think of ourselves.”

 Jimin wanted to stop him. He really did.

 He thought about all the times they were together. All the rap scenes he went to support Yoongi, all the recitals Yoongi gave him flowers, all the times they explored different hair dyes - the orange one, the pink, the grey.

 All the meals Yoongi cooked for him, all the music equipment he bought to surprise Yoongi, all the arguments about him leaving or them not having enough time for each other.

 That one argument when Jimin blamed Yoongi for him being downgraded to a backup dancer again because he skipped practice due to his depression when he left.

 All the birthdays they spent, especially the one where Yoongi came back. How could Jimin forget that?

 How could Jimin forget Yoongi in general?

 The way he never wanted anyone else to know he cared, but he really did. The way he would take care of him when he was sick. The way he would scold him if he practiced too hard to the point of exhaustion.

 The way he shared his secret love for piano, a secret Jimin was proud that only he knew. The way Jimin shared his abandonment issues with his family and how relieved he was that Yoongi was his home now.

 The way his hand engulfed his. The way he would slightly open his mouth when they kiss so his tongue can enter. The way he would feel above or beneath him. The way he would feel content whenever he says I love you.

 He wanted to ask Yoongi if he thought of all of these?

 What he was saying goodbye to? 

 Their past? 7 years of being together. Jimin literally grew up with him.

 Their future? What about the plans of Jimin singing for one of his tracks because Yoongi discovered he had a talent for it too? And he just loved his voice. 

Jimin wanted to ask all of these. But he realized like Yoongi, he was also tired.

 The only thing that escaped from Jimin’s lips was. “Okay.”

 Besides, he knew he couldn’t handle Yoongi’s answer. May it be a yes or a no. At least this time, he has the guts to say goodbye. What a morbid consolation prize, right?

 “You know what sucks?” Jimin continued. “I still believe you when you tell me you love me.”

 “Because I do.” Yoongi had a slight smile. “I really do.”

 “I do too.” A vow without rings, a truth without commitments. “I love you, and I have done everything to make this work except for letting you go. So this is me, letting you go.”

 “I’m really sorry. I wish I could be more for you but I can’t right now.” Yoongi pulled Jimin to hold him tight. “Maybe in the future, when we’re both okay...” Yoongi’s mind began to wander but Jimin pulled him back to the present.

 “Maybe. But you’re right. Right now we have to be okay on our own. This is why we’re breaking up, right?”

 “I love you, Jimin.” Yoongi was proud that Jimin understood him, but still devastated that it had to come to this.

 “I love you, hyung.” Jimin repeated throughout the night, unknowingly making it a keepsake for Yoongi even if they’re not together anymore.

 They shared their last kiss, their last moments in bed. Yoongi packed the remainder of his belongings in his bag, and they hugged until it was time for Yoongi to leave. Out of sight, out of mind, Jimin thought.

EPILOGUE

 Love never meant staying, that was what his mom always explained ever since his dad left them to work abroad and never came back. His mom always assured him that his dad loved him dearly, that he worked hard for Jimin to go to university. 

 He never understood how people who leave can still love. He never understood why, until the day Yoongi went away.

 He also realized he can’t find a home in a person, so he will build his own.

 Jimin didn’t know what was harder, being left the first time or the second time. But all he knew was he needed to be better. He owed that to himself. He strived harder until he got the lead dancer position again.

 He rekindled with Taehyung and it was as if nothing happened, maybe that’s what soulmates are supposed to be. A place you can always go back to, home or not.

 “You’re not as devastated as the first time.” Taehyung pointed out while they were playing Mario Kart at Jimin's place.

 “I listed all the things that reminded me of him,” Jimin explained. “I planned to steer clear of them but some things I realized he can’t take away from me."

 “Like what?” Taehyung asked.

 “Like winter.” Jimin paused the game. “Winter is my favorite season, but that was when he left me. Both times. But I can’t unlove winter because I was hurt right?”

 “I’m proud of you, Jiminie.” Taehyung nudged his long-missed best friend.

 “And you too.” Jimin pointed out. “You introduced us to each other. I can’t unlove you.”

 Taehyung smiled at him. “I can’t unlove you too.” He rolled his eyes. “Even if you’re stupid sometimes.”

 “I often wondered when would looking at my tattoo stop hurting, but now I sometimes forget it’s there. It didn’t remind me of him anymore, it just reminded me of me - a guy who wears his heart on his sleeves, or in my case, on my rib.” Jimin admitted before continuing “It’s been a year now, and he actually texted me if we can meet again.”

 “Oh?” Taehyung raised a brow.

 “But he said that I should be ready when we meet.” Jimin continued.

 “Are you?” Jimin shook his head. “What did he say then?” Jimin knew he was okay in a way, but a big part of him wasn’t ready to meet Yoongi again. He pulled his phone from his pocket to retrieve the last text Yoongi sent.

 He handed it over to Taehyung, and it just read “Nevermind, then.”

[apolloappreciationblog]

What do you love about Trials of Apollo and why? How'd you get into the series? What do you hope/think will happen in books 4 and 5?

Thanks so much for asking! This got really long so I’m putting it below. I guess it’s also sort of like an about me also in regards to the fandom, for anyone who wants to talk Trials (please do, I’m obsessed)

How did I get into Trials?

I read PJO a long time ago back when it was new, fresh, and super popular, and instantly fell in love with the series (like everyone else) but fell off the boat a bit after the first Heroes book came out (I guess, also like everyone else). It’s not that I didn’t like it, I was busy at the time, and since The Lost Hero had just come out, I lost track of waiting for the next books to come out and somehow just forgot about them as a whole (No I still haven’t read them all (oops). Yes, I’ve been stuck on the “It’s Percy! Oh my gods he has amnesia!” cliffhanger for years now).

It’s been a long time since then, and I thought I’d pretty much made peace with the series. But for some reason I was smacked over the head with nostalgia after someone I know mentioned how fun it would be to play a powered by the apocalypse game in a PJO setting (I’m a pretty huge tabletop rpg nerd). Naturally that thought sent me down a rabbit hole and I decided I was going to literally build a big homebrew system for PJO (which I still am, currently), despite the fact that I hadn’t engaged with the series in years. My memory was far from perfect, and I ended up doing a ton of research-sifting through wikis and even rereading some parts of the books-and while I looked around I noticed there was a new series being written. I read the synopsis and instantly fell in love. I’m a huge fan of the tropes present in trials, and the more I thought about what ridiculous shenanigans were possible from the idea, the more I absolutely could not resist reading them. I came to be entertained and stayed for the heart wrenching character development, but I’m sure we’re all the same.

Which brings me to your first question! What do I love about Trials?

First and foremost I am a real sucker for the whole general concept. Like, taking one of the gods and making them a pathetic mortal teenager?? Making it PJO’s Apollo of all gods??? I don’t think I would have ever said I needed that absolutely horrific and yet genius concept, but here we are. I was also under the impression this was a freakishly fun spinoff series (RIP me), and I mean, it kind of was, for like…half of book one.

And then, oh gods, I realized Rick had made this self important asshole likeable. In fact, even more than that, he had made him a sympathetic and compelling asshole. Where it was completely fine and fun to relish in Apollo’s hilarious punishment in book one, suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore (ok maybe just a little)-it was heartbreaking (Rick you monster, stop making him wet his pants!). But hey, that’s good writing for you.

So basically I really love the concept and, well, I just really love Apollo. The books are executed so good you don’t even realize you are completely rooting for the kid you were laughing at two books ago (because, like YIKES man, that ego!), and gladly die for him (No? Just me?) and the character development is such a subtle and delicate change, but it’s noticeable, really effective, and extremely compelling (and heartbreaking, mostly, in a good way). The comedy is on point (Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Apollo’s taste in pop culture is just bad and cringey or if it’s Rick. The truth is that it’s both and thanks, I hate it) and all of the characters, both new and old, are nostalgic and fun, and there are real reasons you can understand for every action they take and thing they say. The plot doesn’t let you down with twists and turns, but also easy to grasp and follow, and keeps you turning the page even if it’s 3am and you have class at 8. I found that TOA’s books seemed to be more focused, every encounter, no matter how seemingly random, pushes the protagonists in a way that progresses something meaningful, whether it’s the plot or their own development. It’s also really nice to see Rick return to his first person roots, especially when he does it so damn well.

It’s a fresh take on a series I grew up with and it’s just as enchanting now as it was when I was a kid. I do have some gripes with a few things in the series (Listen, I didn’t even read HoO but I loved Jason) but overall it does what it’s set out to do really well, and Rick sure knows what he’s doing (for better or worse).

What are my hopes or predictions for the rest of the series?

Oh boy. Honestly, the overall plot of Trials being “Will Apollo be restored to godhood or not?” is probably the worst plot for my heart, since I don’t even know, ever? We all know it’s going to be a yes, but at the same time…

I didn’t read HoO, though I know the general plot of it, so I can’t really do any elaborate theorycrafting in regards to Camp Jupiter or the roman demigods, but here are my thoughts on the big plot themes:

Promises Kept: Rick’s made it really clear that Apollo didn’t give a flying hoot about promises or oaths before Trials, but it’s quickly evolved into one of the biggest themes in the books. Apollo will keep his promises, maybe even regardless of the cost, and I think we’ll really see that shift in the next two books given the ending lines of book 3. This sort of also bleeds into Apollo considering the weight of life and his own heart, and the whole idea of him trying to change to make amends for his past behavior. I think by the end of this, we really might just have #1 Dad (and God) Apollo (I’m very hopeful).

Choice of Mortality: Heavily foreshadowed in book 2 (looking at you, cal), there’s going to be some crazy stuff in the coming books regarding this. We got a small glimpse of it near the end of book 3 when Apollo was questioning that, if given the option, would he go back to Olympus and abandon his friends in that moment? With circumstances debating, it’s really the heart of the plot and the series and I think we’ll see him questioning Olympus in general. The similarities between Zeus and Nero, and in turn, Apollo and Meg, are made incredibly clear in the series. Apollo would never let Meg return to Nero-it’s his goal to help her to free her from his influence and guide her through her trauma-and yet Apollo is in the same exact situation, the stakes are just, arguably, a lot less black and white. Meg will most definitely not return to Nero and overcome his manipulation, and in turn, I think it will inspire Apollo-making the choice harder than it already is.

There’s no doubt Apollo will ultimately return to Olympus, but that doesn’t made the ride any easier. While there’s no hope of Meg coming to terms with Nero (And I’m not saying there should be (please kill Nero)), Zeus is a problem that isn’t going to go away, and I hope that at the very least, Apollo can overcome his abusive relationship with his own father at the end, and maybe even revolutionize Olympus. It would make a great resolution to the series, and I think that’s what it’s pushing for and heading towards, the complete opposite of what the gods are doing now, and Apollo may just be the one to start it.

Misc predictions and wants:

>Meg and Apollo will HUG (godsdammit, even if I have to force them myself!) And for the love of the gods, can we please get a clear cut reference to their relationship regarding the SUN and PLANTS. LISTEN MAN,

>Someone else is going to die. If they don’t, they will come extremely close, and be saved by Apollo (solidifying his character development regarding the effects of his actions on others) in some intense true self sacrificial way that can’t be debated (i.e., Apollo’s excuses for being able to stabbing himself in the chest). And…the Styx is hungry.

>I have no idea what Annabeth’s up to in MC, but I’m hoping that she will make an appearance (and hopefully along with percy?). I’d also guess that camp jupiter and half-blood will come together again, but that’s just purely hoping (Don’t look at me like that, I have no idea what funk was in HoO).

>REUNION WITH ARTEMIS. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS.

>I really want more camp half blood life. I really, really, really do. We’re sure as hell not going to get it. But oh, what I wouldn’t do for Apollo’s extended stay at camp, or even just, camp in general for anyone. Please!

>Everyone is going to hate the shit out of Apollo for Jason’s death (arguably, they should be upset at Rick and not my stupid, stupid son…) and oh boy is he going to have a fun time with that. I initially thought that Apollo didn’t react nearly as strong to Jason’s death as he should have (was it just me or did he mourned Crest harder than Jason?? You could argue unreliable narrator, but come on), but oh boy, I think it may be because the worst is yet to come regarding that.

>Probably some shitty forced romance for Apollo. I do not want this. I really do not want this (does ANYONE want this???). But the arguments predicting this are pretty darn hard to refute, sadly. One can only pray.

At the end of the series I really want Apollo to be like “Fuck you guys, I’m the god of demigods now. Fuck you. Especially you Zeus. I’m protecting everyone in this bitch. You can’t stop me.” and proceed to aggressively aid demigods everywhere wearing the camp half-blood shirt. Also if he moved in to camp, I sure as hell would not complain. I also wouldn’t complain if he gave driving lessons to his kids in the sun chariot. Or if he made amends with everyone he’s ever hurt. Or if he kept aspects of Lester’s appearance (like those love handles) because hey, he doesn’t have to be insecure anymore and you know what, it’s cute dammit, abs are so out. Or…well, you get the idea I’m gonna stop myself there.

That was long (LIKE, FOUR FREAKING PAGES LONG) but I hope I answered your questions!

[is-i-halloween-yet]

Hesitant Kiss With Chase Brody

Hesitant Kiss - The type of kiss where their lips brush against each other’s a few times, breath fanning across each other’s faces as one waits for the other to make a move.  

Request: Only by my own heart 

Warnings: Pining, Self doubt, Also is this how kissing works? IDK. Never kissed no one, swearing

(AN: Test for my smol bro Chase. I love him. Wow.)

He has to be drunk. You thought to yourself as Chase flashed you a smile from across the room, causing you to smile back though you tensed, turning your gaze away as you retreated to your bedroom in attempts to hide, both from the crowds 

Your sister had been kind enough to throw you a surprise party in honor of your birthday and while you were gratful, you were not found of the crowd or the company, especially the one named Chase Brody.

It wasn’t that you disliked Chase, it was the exact opposite as a matter of fact. You had a massive crush on the man , which is why your sister invited him, but there was three problems:

1.) He was your coworker on Bro Average, you being the shows newest editor and you also baby sat his kids fairly often making him your boss

2.) He was Chase Brody. Internet Celebrity. Women followed him like mad. You couldn't compete with that. 

And 3.) Relationship just never really worked out for you. So why tempt fate with a person who has been suffering so much and has just now gotten some of that happiness back. 

At the thought, tears filled your eyes as you looked around your room, sitting on your bed. How pathetic. You chuckled at yourself. You are such a stupid fool Y/N. Fuck so pathetic. 

“Y/N?” A voice called from the hallway, shit fuck. You turned around just in time as your door creaked open, “There you are silly. The party is dull without you.” 

You felt weight on the other end of the beg and you tensed, pulling your knees into your chest, clearing your throat in attempts to hide the scratchiness, “Wasn’t feeling well... Probably sick...”

“Well then I am gonna have to take care of you. No one should be alone on their birthday.” You could hear the smile in his voice but did not like that he was scooting closer to you, his hand resting on your back, rubbing circles gently while the other combed through your hair, “Come here... Lemme feel your head.” But then he felt as your back tensed, resisting him turning you around to face him and he felt chills run up his spine, “Y/N?” 

Not waiting for a response he stood up peering to look at your face and sighed sadly when he saw your tear covered face, not hesitating to wrap his arms around you and you did the same, yours falling around his shoulder, all the negative feelings fading for a moment as you wept against his shirt, “I... I sorry...”

“It’s okay.. It’s okay.. Just let it out..” He rubbed your shoulder and hummed, sitting on your bed and rocking you until you eased to sniffs, when he pulled away one hand holding your own and the other cupping your cheeks, “Tell me what's the matter.”

You paused, almost wanting to cry again as the feelings all came back into play. How do I put this without letting everything fall apart? “I.. uh...” You paused clearing your throat again and faking a smile, “Feelings. Not important. Sorry about your shirt.”

“Nevermind my shirt, of course it is important.” He squeezed your palm and caressed your cheek, “Talk to me Y/N.”

You sighed unable to find anything you could say that would cover everything other than the truth so you looked away from him, your eyes falling on Chase’s fingers moving on your check as you took a deep, “Um.. Have you ever liked someone who can’t.. No I mean... Have you ever loved someone whose just suffered so and you can't even risk you- I mean... agh,...” You exhaled harshly in a chuckle, “Shit ‘m so pathetic.”

“No... No... I think I catch your drift.” He smiled, smiling at you but a hint of shyness and blush at his lips and cheeks, but still he moved closer,  “But... Could I-uh maybe give you your gift now?”

You nodded as your eyes met his once more but closed them as you felt warm breath across your lips where the warmth remained for several moment until you broke it by pressing your lips to his, then pulling away in doubt before Chase dropped your hand, cupping your other cheek before kissing you himself, deepening it while your hands went to his shoulder, both of you pulling away in unison but moving only your foreheads to keep the feeling of the others panting breaths fanning over your lips. 

Silence, followed as you repeated the pattern several times until he broke the silence at last, “Uh.. You were talking about me right?”

“No shit!”

[tomcuddlesfic]

God of Mischief & I

TITLE: God of Mischief & I

ONE SHOT / MULTICHAPTER: One Shot

AUTHOR : tomcuddlesfic WHICH TOM/CHARACTER:  Tom x Loki

GENRE: fluff / romance / FIC SUMMARY: What happens when you catch the God of Mischief causing mischief? Caroline is on a date with a nice guy. Just not the right guy according to Loki. When Loki takes a joke too far, they both might just learn that not everything is all fun and games after all.

RATING: R --There’s light smut

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: It’s been a long time since I last wrote something but I FINALLY watched Thor: Raganork (I know I’m beyond behind) and I was intrigued by Loki. I normally don’t write Loki Fan fiction just because he does little to nothing to me but after reading an interesting article about how people blame their little accidents on the god of mischief instead of their own clumsiness, I thought that was fun to write something based on it. 

Also, I wrote this in third person and it shifts from past/present and also from focusing more on one character’s emotions at certain times and then it alternates. It might get confusing so I apologize in advance.

AS ALWAYS FEEDBACK IS MUCH APPRECIATED OKAY ENJOY.

It was all his fault.

Caroline was on the floor, knees scraped and stinging. She squeezed her shut in hopes of holding back her tears but it was no use. Her shoulders dropped as she let out a quiet sob. A figure blocked out the light casted from the street lamp beside her. Growling, she looked back at the man who made a mess of all things.

“You’re hurt.” The man stated plainly, hands in his trouser pockets. He seemed bored of her like she should get up now and continue to play along with his game.

“Thanks to you.” Caroline spat. Before she knew it, the man scooped her up in his strong arms. One minute she was on the street outside of the bar and the next, she was in an expensive looking apartment. She blinked several times, sure that all the alcohol she drank during her date with a bald accountant named Jerry that her friend Melissa set her up with had something to do with it. Caroline was sure she blacked out and only woke up now to the stranger’s apartment but if her suspicions were correct, blacking out had nothing to do with it.

Loki didn’t set her down until he made to his bathroom in the master suite. He had told himself he had gone a joke too far and didn’t want the human to suffer anymore and that’s why he didn’t set her down right away, allowing her to walk to the bathroom herself and not because of the fact that he enjoyed the feel of her womanly curves pressed against his body. The human sitting before him had caught him in his act. Usually, he was discreet. Nobody saw him cast small spells that resulted in what humans called little accidents or clumsiness. But she saw. Her brown eyes had looked past her pathetic date to him just as he flicked his hands in the air, casting a spell to knock over the beer on her date’s lap. She had narrowed her eyes, intrigued by the coincidence. Just as she looked away, he wanted her attention back on him. Loki waved his hands again, this time casting a spell to knock over her date’s chair just as he was sitting back down from cleaning up the mess on his lap. Her gaze immediately went back to him. Loki smirked at the memory of her sauntering towards him in her pretty summer dress and short heels. She was beautiful for a mortal.

“What are you doing?” Caroline had demanded. She knew she was acting crazy. There was no such thing as magic. But seeing the smirk on the handsome man’s face made her think she was right all along.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  The man brought the crystal glass filled with amber liquid to his lips, smiling before taking a sip.

“I see what you did.” She had said with as much intimidation in her voice as possible. However, at only five foot three, it’s hard to be intimidating to a man who easily towered her judging by his long sleek legs stretched out before him. “I don’t know how you’re doing it or what exactly are you playing at but this date is important to me so find your entertainment somewhere else.”

Loki grinned at the memory of earlier tonight. He couldn’t resist especially when he was confused as to why someone so stunning would waste their time on a pudgy middle aged man who didn’t have the slightest idea in seducing the opposite sex. He had also found out her name through tuning into their conversation. Caroline. A name fit for a small thing like her.

Throughout the night, he had made more accidents happen. Until her date had rushed off when a bottle of ketchup exploding on his white shirt just as he was squeezing some out on his plate for his fries. The woman had looked over him, eyes narrowed with hatred. She was cute even when angry, he had thought.

“You are despicable!” She had stomped her foot, yelling across the bar to where he sat. People had looked at her like she had gone mad. Without another word, Caroline stormed off only to mysteriously trip on her own two feet.

“Let me take a look at you.” Loki retrieved the first aid kit from under the washroom sink. After being banished to Earth, he had found his healing powers to be weaker and in need of medical equipment created by humans.

“Don’t touch me.” Caroline sniffled, shifting her leg out of his way just as he was about to inspect it.

Guilt flooded his senses. This was new to him, he realized. He had caused his father to fall into slumber, betrayed his brother multiple times, tried to rule New York, and killed countless beings and humans but nothing compared to the guilt he felt when he saw the tears he had caused to fall down her face. Without thought, Loki reached out and gently brushed the few tears off with the pad of his thumb. They both froze in that moment, staring at each other.

“Just who exactly are you?” Caroline gulped, her eyes searched his face for answers. He was so close to her, she could see the multiple shades deep green of his irises. One hand still resting on her bare knee and the other gently on her neck, he sucked in a quick shallow breath.

“Loki.” The trickster replied quietly like he was confessing his sins in church. He almost barked out a laugh at the sound of his cracking voice. A God himself, feared by many for his supernatural powers, and fearless in great wars is found vulnerable and weak before a mortal woman. Loki studied her neutral expression, aching to move closer to her. The space between them was little but yet he mourned the distance. He was captivated by her.

“You have a strange name.” Caroline’s broke into a slow smile. She was slightly inebriated from the cocktails she gulped down after the disastrous date the man before her caused but the warmness spreading through her body had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Not as strange as my attraction for you, princess.” Loki returned the shy smile before hesitantly lowering his mouth inches to hers. He could smell the sweetness of her scent, drawing him in. He cleared his throat, blinking furiously to clear his clouded vision.

“How do you do that?” Caroline tilted her head so she could see his face. The bathroom was spacious with a luxury tub, a shower, and a sink with enough counter space to dine on but somehow when he was in it, his presence and body made it feel so small.

‘Do what?” Loki said with nonchalance, ripping open a package of sterilized wipes. He gently wiped down her wound, feeling more and more awful every time she winced and jerked her leg.

“The tricks.” She leaned forward, taking her lower lip into her mouth. “You’ve been waving your hands all night and every time you do that, things happen.”

He nodded his head, unable to meet her eyes. Would there be judgement in them? Fear? He was too afraid to look because if he looked, the illusion of someone who didn’t fear him for what he was would end. “Short answer would be that I’m a God. God of Mischief to be exact.”

Caroline tilted his chin up with the crook of her finger so he looked directly at her. “You know that’s pretty cool. Except the part where you know you ruined my date and made me fall on the floor.”

Loki laughed, feeling relief for the light banter instead of delving deeper into the reasons for his guilt and shame for who he was. He continued bandaging her up, stopping when she rested a hand on his. When she tipped forward again due to her drunken state, he caught her in his arms, their faces dangerously close to each other.

The desire and need to kiss her was strong. His heart thundered, his head grew dizzy, and his body hummed as saw her eyes look at him with lust. This wasn’t mischief or mind controlling powers. This was a woman who desired all of him.

It wasn’t right.

Of all the morally wrong things Loki has done in his existence, he knew it was even too much for him to ruin someone so pure and so good like Caroline. He was beyond worth saving. A God who was unredeemable and didn’t deserve happiness for all the destruction he has caused.  Just as he was about to pull away, Caroline grabbed his shirt and kissed him.

Caroline felt his whole body freeze. Through her hazy gaze, she saw his eyes had widened, fixated on her. Maybe she had been reading the signs all wrong, the thought quickly passed in the back of her mind. Cold panic flashed her senses before she abruptly pulled away from him only to have his hand on the back of her neck draw her back into a deep intoxicating kiss. He devoured her, parting her swollen lips, tasting her sweetness. She groaned, hands grasping his shirt to pull him right against her chest. Loki easily maneuvered his body between her soft thighs, feeling the heat of her core against his hard cock. He wanted her. He needed her.

Large calloused hands ran up her silky thighs, drawing up the flimsy fabric of her summer dress, exposing the wet stain on her white panties. Loki growled against her neck when pushed closer off the edge of the bathroom counter to rub herself against him. He could feel her wetness seeping onto his trouser pants. This woman was going to be the death of him, he realized as he ripped down the thin straps of her dress to reveal full breasts topped with pink nipples that begged to be suckled. Tearing down the rest of the fabric, she was left with nothing but her panties in front of him.

“So fucking beautiful.” Loki moaned as he cupped her breast and brought a nipple in his mouth. Swirling his skillful tongue around the hard tip, he ran his hand down the soft curves of her body, squeezing her ass before slipping into the front of panties.

“Loki!” She gasped, finger nails digging deep into his biceps. “Please.”

Many mortals have begged and pleaded for his mercy but the sound of sweet Caroline begging for him and the only release he could give to her was nothing compared to it. His heart thumped wildly against his chest as he looked at this mortal that wasn’t running for the hills, afraid of him but instead trusted him enough to expose the most private parts of her body and soul to him.

“I got what you need, princess.” He whispered harshly into her ear before dropping a kiss on the crane of her neck. His long fingers slipped easily into her hot slick folds. Her tiny body thrashed against him when his thumb pressed down and circled on her clit.

The friction was exhilarating. Caroline voluntarily spread her thighs wider for his better access as she dropped her head back, feeling every sensation through her body. Her toes curled as he fit one digit up her pussy, filling her in a way she never experienced.

“Fuck.” Loki spat out as he continued to pump his finger in and out of her tight hot cunt. There was no way she could be as tight as she felt around his finger without being an innocent. An unfamiliar possessive need raged throughout his body.

Mine.

The word burned in his mind. Caroline was his. Nobody will ever come close to her ever again as long as he was still alive.

Curling his finger inside her, Caroline squealed when he found the spot that seemed to be where every single one her nerve endings began and met. A need within her that she didn’t know she had was fulfilled as he continued rubbing the spot. She was on the brink of exploding around him. Her breath caught her throat as the ache grew and grew until she couldn’t contain it anymore. Bright bursts of light filled her vision as pleasure overcame her entire body.

He continued his motions as her pussy quivered, tightening and releasing around his thick fingers. Her body was so responsive. So needy. So beautiful. He watched intently at her, storing every second of her orgasm in his memories, not wanting to forget any moment of this stunning sight. It was expected of him to be the playful trickster everyone had known him for. He would be unattached with little to no emotions. Sentiment was definitely not a part of his agenda. But deep down, he knew Caroline struck a nerve. He didn’t countless women when he could have one.

Caroline shivered when she felt her thighs slipping against each other caused by own juices. She slowly fell forward into his warm chest, arms circling around her and catching her before she fell to the floor. Caroline knew it would be silly to think anything could begin from this. The handsome devil standing before her probably didn’t feel the same strong connection she felt. Of course, leave it for a virgin to romanticize things that weren’t actually there.

Loki smoothed down her hair, dropping kisses on the crown of her head. Slowly, he inserted an arm under the back of her knees, swept her up, bridal style, and carried her to his bed. Her eyes were closed, face flushed, and looking as perfect as all the stars in the galaxies.

Tucking her in, he laid a soft kiss on her cheek, not missing the small smile that curved her lips when he pulled away. Loki knew he should go. These powerful emotions stirring inside his chest were overwhelming and he needed time to sort them out. Just as he was turning away, a hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t go.” Caroline pleaded, fully awake. “Please stay.”

Loki studied her. Without another word, he gently removed her hand and stepped back, unbuttoning each button on his dark silk shirt, revealing lean muscles that rippled under his pale skin. He dropped the shirt on the floor, moving his attention to his belt. Her gaze fixated on every movement he made. And if he wasn’t already a God, he knew that with just her eyes looking at him like the way she did now, he would feel like one. Hell, he even felt like the honorable one people actually worshipped. His pants soon joined his other clothes on the floor, leaving him only in his black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his thick erection caused by her and only her.

She gulped when he walked around the bed, slipped under the covers, and drew her right against him. Her bottom nestled perfectly against his thickness, allowing her to feel just how hard and hot he was.

“Loki.” Caroline whispered, adjusting her position before the arm draped around her waist tightened, stilling her motions.

“Sleep, princess.” Loki murmured into her ear, lifting off some of the pressure of expectations for the rest of the night. “I ask nothing from you tonight but don’t test my patience. I find it running very thin with you almost naked around me.”

Caroline remained quiet, chewing on the bottom of her lip. She knew this was a horrible idea. She barely knew the man lying beside her but the attraction between them was undeniable. Turning around so she faced his chest, she cocked her head up to see his eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

“Shouldn’t I do something?” She asked ignoring his earlier statement about sleeping. It seemed only fair that he sought for his release as she did hers. Her hand trembled as she trailed it down his muscled stomach, feeling him suck in a breath before seeking lower and lower until her fingertips grazed his hardness. She gasped when Loki grabbed her hand in his and stopped her in her place.

Loki squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“Woman, the only thing you need to do is sleep.” Loki grounded out through clenched teeth. When he opened his eyes, he met wide brown eyes filled with uncertainty. For a brief second, he caught the look he was all too familiar with pass her face. She felt humiliated. Still holding her hand, he brought it up to his mouth before kissing it softly and allowing her to cup his face. He turned towards her touch, seeking warmth and love. ��You’re the only person who has ever made me feel like this. It’s madness. Of all my years, I’ve never felt this way so please, Caroline. I’m trying for once in my life to do the right thing. And the right thing is to give you time and to not rush into things we’re both not ready for. We can take things slow, yes?”

He looked into her eyes, searching for answers. Once again, he found himself showing the most vulnerable sides of him to a woman that managed to break down all his walls.

For a moment, Caroline was sure Loki had only done what they did out of pity. So when she offered to reciprocate pleasure and he flat out refused, it hurt. She might not have been a sexual goddess but she knew she wasn’t all that unattractive. But maybe it was her inexperience that made him uninterested in taking things further. She felt embarrassment to suggest such a silly thing but his next words were like a balm to her stinging wounds.

“Yes.” Caroline nodded, chewing her lower lip before speaking again. “So this isn’t a one night stand?”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go after this let alone let it be a one-time thing.” Loki scoffed sarcastically before hushing her to go to sleep.