#(If it isn’t already obvious from the contents of my blog

[ghostkennedy]

Hi! I love your blog and I’ve almost read all of your Leon fics, I particularly fell in love with the hybrid Leon one so I was wondering if I could request something?

If you have some free time of course and if you’re up to it!

(It’s similar to the one you’ve already written so I hope it’s not an issue)

I was thinking a dominant hybrid dog/wolf Leon (re4 remake) where the female reader is submissive and also a little curvy, has large breasts and stretch marks along with them ovulating and being super horny and Leon is just absolutely driven feral by their scent so he goes wild and breeds them.

Also roles switched so Hybrid Leon calls the reader a good girl etc etc UwU.

If you could write this it would absolutely make my day!!💖✨

Take It Like a Good Girl

~ Dog/Wolf Hybrid! Leon Kennedy x Plus size! fem! Reader~

Word count: 1295

Content warnings: smut, sexual content, sub/dom dynamic, alpha/omega dynamic, mentions of breeding/knotting/impregnation, uses of sir and daddy, teasing/taunting, very brief blowjob, a bit aggressive

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!

“Look at you,” a familiar voice speaks up from behind you.

You jump up from your place on the couch. “Leon! You scared the shit out of me. What’re you doing here?”

“This is my home too, isn’t it?” He chuckles at you, teasingly.

His eyes rake up and down your body. Tight shorts that barely cover your ass and a tank top that’s ridden up your stomach, exposing the soft skin of your belly. You’re quick to pull your shirt down, covering yourself back up.

“Sorry, I’m such a mess! You’re home early.” You cringe at your own words. As if both of those facts weren’t obvious. 

He takes slow, sure steps toward you. You feel like cowering before him, his complete attention more intense than you could’ve prepared yourself for. 

He comes to a stop when his form is towering over yours. You look up and meet his eyes, but he shakes his head at you.

You immediately recognize what he wants from you.

You advert your gaze, staring down at the bit of floor between the two of you as you fall to your knees before him. You lean back and rest your ass on your ankles, clasping your hands behind your back.

This is how he likes you. Completely submitting to him.

His fingers rake through your hair, pulling it out of your face.

“There’s my girl. Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

Without lifting your gaze from the floor, you reply, “Yes, sir.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and forces your face up to look at him.

“Always so sweet for me, aren’t you Omega?”

You try to reply but the words are lost on your tongue. He smirks at your loss of words as his fingers trail from your jaw, slowly down your neck, until they’re tracing over the top of your cleavage.

“Or maybe you’re playing innocent. Nothing about the way these tits are practically pouring out of your shirt screams sweet, does it?”

You whine up at him before biting your lip, trying to keep your pathetic noises from slipping past your lips.

“You think I can’t smell how fucking wet you are for your Alpha right now? I can smell the desperation coming from that little cunt of yours. Need me to breed you, huh? Fill up that sweet pussy with my puppies?”

You’re panting, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head as your tongue lols out of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin. You nod your head quickly, causing him to roll his eyes in disapproval. 

“Use your words. Now.” He’s gripping your chin again, pulling you to your feet with his single hand.

You whimper as your arms reach out, grasping onto his forearm. Your back is straining as your toes practically leave the floor. He doesn’t break a sweat–his face doesn’t show a single inclination of the strenuous activity he just pulled off effortlessly.

“Y-yes, Alpha. I want you to breed me. Want your cock so fucking bad, please.”

He releases his grip on your chin, bringing his hand to the top of your head and forcing you down to your knees again. You feel lightheaded from being forced up and down so quickly, but it just seems to heighten your arousal. It only fuels the wetness soaking through your panties and causes your thighs to clench together so fucking tightly.

“Fine. If you want it that bad, take it out for me. I can’t do everything for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Your hands shoot up to his crotch embarrassingly fast. Your fingers fumble with the buckle of his belt, your nerves clearly showing. Leon can’t hide the smirk and look of amusement on his face at your eagerness.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to make quick work of pulling his belt off and opening up the front of his pants, pulling them down his thighs. Your mouth waters looking at his cock straining in his boxers.

“Come on, baby. Don’t half ass your job. I said, Take. It. Out.”

Your thumbs slide under the waistband, slowly easing them down until his dick springs free.

A half whimper, half groan leaves your lips as his cock stands at full attention right in front of your face. You stare at it, eagerly awaiting his next instructions.

“Don’t let me stop you, princess. Suck my cock. Get me wet and ready to breed that fucking pussy.”

You wrap your hand around his large cock, slowly pumping him. You’ll never get accustomed to how long and thick his dick is. Every time he takes his pants off, it’s like Christmas fucking morning. 

You lol your tongue out of your mouth, right over the head of his cock. You stare up at him as your saliva pools on your tongue until the slow, steady stream flows down to the tip of his cock. The string of saliva being the only thing connecting your mouth to his aching cock.

“Sweet girl,” his hand caresses your cheek, continuing to meet your stare, “If you wanna taste my cock before I pound your fucking cunt, you’d better get it inside your fucking mouth before I say fuck it.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking harshly. Leon’s head falls back as a groan sounds deep in his throat. You watch as his adam’s apple bobs while he swallows his noises down.

He brings his head back, his eyes immediately taking in your hollowed cheeks as you give it your best attempt at swallowing him full.

Something inside him snaps. He pulls your mouth from his cock and pushes you until your back crashes into the floor. 

He yanks your tank top over your head, practically destroying the fabric. Your breasts fall out, thankfully you decided against a bra today.

Leon stares at you in amazement, taking a minute to appreciate what belongs to him. You belonging to him makes it all that much better.

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples, sucking harshly–impatiently. One of his hand wraps around your wrists, forcing them above your head. The other running down your body, caressing your tummy.

His lips trail from your nipple, leaving wet kisses down the valley of your breasts, stopping and suckling gently above your belly button.

His thumb runs over the stretch marks on your tummy softly.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn soft. Imagine how soft you’d be swollen with my puppies, huh? You wanna have a belly full of my babies that I get to worship every fucking day?”

“Yes, yes! I want it so bad. Daddy, sir, Alpha, please.”

He chuckles at you before continuing to kiss lower and lower down your body. He peppers kisses in the hair surrounding the temple of his absolute obsession and affection. 

You’re staring at him intently, lost in your need for him. You can’t bring yourself to do anything besides sit there spread open for him. You’re baring yourself completely for him and all you can do is hope he fucking dives into you soon.

“Such a good Omega, huh? Will do anything to please her Alpha–to earn his knot. You want that? Want me to stuff you full of my come and then knot you? Knot you until I’m sure my puppies are in there?”

You grind your hips up into him absentmindedly. Your body is desperate for any sort of friction. His tongue, his fingers, his cock–it doesn’t fucking matter. You just have to have him anyway he’ll give himself to you.

“Please, Alpha. Fuck me, breed me, knot me. I need you.” “How can I say no to that? Now lay there and take it like a good girl. My good fucking girl.”

~masterlist~

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #smut #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #resident evil 4 #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut #resident evil 6 #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon smut #hybrid! leon #hybrid leon #hybrid!leon #ghostkennedy

[thelightsandtheroses]

sing fever to the form | frankie morales x female reader

Summary: Fake dating Frankie Morales seemed the obvious solution to both of your problems, until you caught feelings and now everything is a mess. Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader Warnings: language and explicit content, 18+ blog - minors do not interact, a little angst with a happy ending romcom style,no physical descriptors, no use of Y/N or specific age mentions for the reader. Word Count: 6.3k Notes: the fic title is from one of my absolute favourite songs which features on every single playlist i ever compile (fever to the form by nick mulvey). I also owe a huge thank you to the lovely @mvtthewmurdvck for her support on this one 💕 i think without her, this would have probably languished in my drafts.

In the cold light of Benny Miller’s bathroom, you come to the conclusion that you’ve made several mistakes. The worst one of these, the one that set the rest in motion like dominoes, had honestly seemed like such a good idea at the time. It appeared such an obvious solution to the numerous questions, interrogations and unspoken pity that you were encountering. You could never have expected this.

You’d moved to Florida for work some time ago and while you had friends and a great career, your love life was definitely lacking. People picked up on it and while no one directly said it, you felt you were continually judged.  Sure, it was all well and good that you had a nice job, but if no one’s dating you -  well, what’s your red flag?

Between that and the fact your parents kept asking about whether or not you were dating, or if you’d met anyone nice at work, it started to weigh on you. Was there a problem with the way you were living - was it you? Your loved ones seemed so disappointed that you weren’t dating and putting yourself ‘out there in the world’. You tried to tell them the dating pool was not great, that the apps were awful and the only guys you ever seemed to attract came with so many of their own red flags that they could have lined the whole of your street. You’d dated enough bad guys already, you didn’t want to date any more.

You just needed some space.

Frankie was your friend and he was experiencing similar pressures. His friends were asking him when he’d start dating again and he was grappling with a new status as a single father. So, he also needed a break, needed to remove some of the noise from those around him.

Fake dating might belong in the movies, but it seemed an obvious solution to both of your predicaments. For a while, it was perfect. 

Frankie is the ideal fake boyfriend, he’s better than any you could have ever imagined. In fact, he is probably the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, which is part of the problem. Most of your previous boyfriends hadn’t been the best, and suddenly here’s Frankie, acting like the perfect man for you?

Of course, you ended up falling for him.

It might have seemed a good idea back then, only now you’re hiding in a bathroom, fighting back tears and berating yourself as the BBQ you’d been looking forward to carries on outside. You’re so stupid. This is a dumb game. It isn’t real.

You’re not supposed to catch feelings.

But you have.

“So, how did we get together?” Frankie asks, leaning his head back against the sofa so you can see all the freckles on his neck above his hoodie.

“Um…” you chew your lip, take a gulp of your drink, “I have no idea.”

Frankie’s house is the sort of home that has comforting chaos and mess to it. His daughter’s things are strewn around the living room, an aviation manual rests on open pages on the coffee table next to you and a pile of battered paperbacks are stacked next to the sofa. The walls are a warm yellow; surprisingly comforting and bright. It’s a stark contrast to how Frankie presents himself outside of his home - cool, collected, a little quiet.

His home feels lived in. You always feel comfortable here.

“We could say that we just realised one day, hanging out, I mean crazier things have happened. A big story would stand out. KISS principles an’ all.”

“What did you just say?’” you ask. “Did you just say kissing principles?”

“Kiss?” He shakes his head. “Keep it simple, stupid! The way I see it, the only way for us to get away with this is to keep it realistic, boring almost so people don’t ask more,” Frankie says thoughtfully. 

“Ah, so hooking up with you would be boring? That’s good to know.”

“Oh, carinô, if I kissed you for real that is not the word you’d use …”Frankie trails off, mischievously raises an eyebrow.

“Ergh, you can be so arrogant,” you tease, “Okay, fine. We had a sudden movie like realisation and what - we just got together and then what did we do?”

“Well then, y’know, by that point, you couldn’t exactly walk away.” Frankie smirks salaciously.

You throw a sofa cushion at him.“I think I hate you, Frankie Morales..”

“No, no that’s definitely not what you said.” 

“So,” Frankie pauses, runs a hand through his hair. “We should agree what the boundaries are, when we’re with others.”

“Others?”

“Yes, when we’re with our friends. It needs to be believable, right? And I’m sorry, but if we stay like we are now, around my friends, then they’ll know it’s fake in five minutes.”

“Why?”

“I did an online quiz with my ex and um, physical touch is my love language,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“You do know that whole love language thing is bullshit, right?”

“No, it’s not. Jessie said -”

“She’s wrong.”

“Regardless, the quiz said that - ergh, fine, whatever. So, what’s the plan there? I don’t want either us to feel uncomfortable though, okay.”

“We’ve been friends a long time,” you say lightly, “This won’t change that. We can figure this out.” It’s not like you’ve never hugged Frankie or he hasn’t put an arm around you before. How hard can it be - you need people to believe you?

“Also, I am not lying to my kid, or getting her to lie for me. We need to keep her out of it, tell everyone else we’re taking it slow with her until we know it’s serious, okay?” Frankie looks at you with a suddenly serious expression. Oh god, he’s a dad and this is stupid and complicated and you can’t involve her in this and you’ve just been discussing the physical boundaries in this stupid game and this is ridiculous. 

It was a pathetic idea of yours.

“Maybe we shouldn’t -”

“It’s fine. We just keep her out of this.”

“Okay, that sounds sensible.”

“So we’re really doing this then?” he asks with a shy smile.

“Yeah, I think we are.”

It’s Frankie. What other choice was there when it came down to it? It’s Frankie with his deep brown eyes that have mastered the puppy dog expression and his shy smiles. You care about him and all of his insecurities, doubts and vulnerabilities you’ve learned over the years. They make him tangible, real, and truer. Perhaps you always liked him and you didn’t know. Maybe you did and subconsciously thought this was the only way you’d have him which is why you’d pursued such a ridiculous idea. Perhaps you had thought this would be like the movies, that he’d confess his love for you and you’d drive off into the sunset.

You’re now accustomed to the way his hands skim your back or waist when you’re with friends, the way he leans closer to you and you can feel his breath against your ear when he whispers sweet nothings in his low voice, smell the laundry detergent on his clothes.

He’s so convincing.

No one has ever questioned whether it’s real with the two of you. You don’t think it would ever cross their mind that the two of you are fake dating. 

Your body and mind certainly doesn’t think it’s fake anymore.

You sit on the edge of the bath and try and try and pinpoint when you realised you felt this way. You’ve both been flirting with danger for weeks; the way you’ve let him trace shapes on your side when he pulls you close, how you lean into the crook of his neck, play with the ends of his curls when you’re out with friends. You tell yourself it’s just to make it look real, to make this situation look authentic.

You’ve certainly fooled yourself.

You’re not even sure when you realised this. One moment everything was like normal and then it wasn’t. Perhaps it’s your fault, you have always been a dreamer. You’ve always walked through life fantasising that this will be the moment when everything changes, when you suddenly fit in and someone will like you or fall in love with you. Given the way your mind works, it was inevitably a stupid idea to even try this with Frankie.

It’s been overwhelming at the BBQ today; the gentle touches, the way he looks at you and you almost believe it’s genuine.  It wouldn’t normally bother you so much, but now you’re aching for it to be something it can’t be and it’s all too much.

You couldn’t help looking at Frankie throughout the BBQ; wanting to count the freckles on his neck, to run your hands through the curls hidden by his hat as you notice the ends peeking out at the nape of his neck. You’re always taken with the broadness of his shoulders too, his hands. 

You’re completely doomed. 

You can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair, it’s a betrayal of your friendship with him. It’s a betrayal of his trust because agreeing to do this fake dating was an exercise in trust, one you are failing.

You’ve been thinking about it for days. The reason you feel so safe with Frankie is because it’s not real, because you weren’t supposed to have to give your heart away. It was just meant to distract people so you could breathe again. You’ve seen too many romcoms and movies, you’re too much of a dreamer to have ever let this work without getting messy. You thought you could be detached and objective, but you can’t.

It’s you, you’re the one who has screwed up.

So you go downstairs, make your excuses and leave.

You’ve been fake dating for two weeks and this just might be your best relationship ever.  You can’t decide if that’s sweet or perhaps the most depressing thing you’ve ever admitted.

You’re in Frankie’s car on the way to Tom’s birthday, playing with the handle of the gift bag you’re holding. The sun is out, Frankie’s playlist is setting the scene and you feel so happy in this moment.

“Don’t be surprised if they say something about us,” Frankie says casually as he changes gear, “The guys have been giving me grief since I told them about us. Well, since I told them about what we’re saying about us, anyway.”

“I thought the idea was it would stop them giving you grief?”

“Oh, this is much better than it was, trust me,” he says, laughing as he looks at the road ahead. With his sunglasses on, no hat and a loose t-shirt he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. Frankie strikes you as a tightly wound coil, he’s just got that energy. He’s calm, not something or someone you are afraid of, but you recognise the way he thinks, see the nervous anticipation in his eyes before he smiles at one of his friends on a night out.

You see the same thing in yourself.

“You know, I can’t believe this is working,” you say cheerfully to Frankie, “My mom has even stopped sending me those news articles about people who meet their soulmates later in your life.”

“Your mom was sending you those?” Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“She means well,” you say placidly. “My parents have always had a lot of expectations for me.”

“Shit.” He reaches over and squeezes your hand. “Well, I can promise you that you’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Likewise, Frankie, likewise.”

You don’t mean to ghost Frankie after the BBQ. It’s just you’re not sure what to say to him. I’m sorry, but I think this fake dating is getting a little too authentic because I might be falling for you?

You can’t do that to him, can’t embarrass yourself with your stupid crush either. It’s better to just ignore the messages, pretend it’s not happening and bury your head in the sand.

Of course, Frankie knows where you live, so you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he turns up at your home.

“So what’s going on? I texted you,” he says with a forced casual voice as he leans against your kitchen counter. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans, his usual hat discarded next to him. He runs a hand through his hair and looks over at you.

You don’t want to look at him properly, so you focus your attention on your kitchen tiles instead . You really need to mop the kitchen floor later. 

“I think, I think this thing has run its course.”

“Oh, really?” Frankie looks surprised, almost sad, when you dare to look at him, “I thought this was working well for us both.”

“A little too well,” you mumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You sigh.

“Hey, cariño, talk to me.”

“It’s just us, Frankie, you don’t have to call me that right now.”

“Why, do you not like it?”

You exhale again with exasperation and shake your head. Just make this easier on me, you think, stop muddying the water. When you meet Frankie’s eyes he looks perplexed though, concerned and his brow is furrowed.

“What’s going on?” he asks, arms folded as he looks over at you. “Talk to me.”

“I think we should stop with this fake dating arrangement. I mean, the idea was just to do it until my friends and my parents were off my back and until your friends were off yours, and they are. So, let’s call it a win and move on.”

“Did something happen?” Frankie asks. “You meet someone?” There’s a strange tone to his voice, almost wistful.

“No, no. I just - I don’t think we should keep doing this. I mean that girl asked you out last week at the bar and because Will and I were with you, you said no.” 

“She wasn’t my type anyway and that’s what this is about? Come on!”

“I’m - I’m clearly holding you back and that’s not what this was supposed to be.”

“Is this what you really want?”

“Absolutely,” you lie brightly, smiling as widely as you can. “We’re friends and we’ve helped each other out so let’s bow out of this gracefully. We can say to the others - we can tell them we realised that we’re better off as friends.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, disappointed that he’s just giving up, that this really is it. 

A small part of you was holding out hope for Frankie fighting back, for him to declare his love for you, take you into his arms and then for the two of you to have the most passionate, intense sex of your life right there in the kitchen. That’s what happens in the movies and books. It’s all meant to end with a kiss.

Only he doesn’t do that.

He just quietly acquiesces to your demand that this ends now and when he smiles, as though his acceptance will make you happy, he shatters your heart into a million pieces.

You have no idea how your friendship will recover from this. You have no idea how to watch someone else love Frankie in the future, to watch him put his hands on someone else or look at them like he looked at you and know it’s real for them but wasn’t for you.

“I should probably go,” Frankie says, his gaze fixated on the floor.

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see you around.”

The story of your breakup spreads quickly. Your friends are disappointed, they tell you it’s obvious you both liked each other, they ask if you’re sure you can’t work it out? Your parents are clearly disappointed, but at the same time you catch a glance of relief on your mother’s face when you tell her.

“He’s complicated,” she says, taking a sip from her cup of tea.  It’s your mom’s first visit in months, a visit you had originally planned during the fake dating misadventure.  

“Complicated?”

“He’s a single father and the job he has? Being a pilot isn’t like a regular 9-5.” 

“He makes his hours work for his kid, and none of those things were the reason we broke up”you say defensively. “And at my age, most people have previous relationships and baggage so I don’t think that makes him any more complicated than anyone else I could meet.”

“You don’t, darling, you don’t have any baggage.”

“That in itself is clearly a complication,” you say, rolling your eyes like a petulant teenager. “I mean, you and Dad hated it when I was single. You were always asking if I’d met someone, or if I was looking and -“ you trail off and stare at your hands on the table. Your nail varnish is chipped. Rouge Noir, the classic vampy red you always put on when you’re feeling blue, when you need a confidence boost. It’s not working for you right now though.

“We just want you to be happy,” your mom says, gently taking her hands in yours. “Whatever that looks like.”

“I am happy.” It’s meant to sound assertive but it comes out more like a question as you speak. You’re happy, dammit. Or you were before everything went wrong.

“No, honey, you’re in the middle of a break up and it’s obvious you still feel something for him. Are you sure - are you sure it’s over? You told me you were the one who ended things.”

“Yeah, I did. I don’t think - I don’t think it’s a good idea, mom. I’ll get over it. I have this big work project and then that trip and the apartment move soon, so I’ll be fine.”

You’re not sure of anything now. You thought stopping the arrangement with Frankie would save your friendship, but it didn’t. Now you don’t have him at all and it fucking hurts.

You are so angry and sad and confused. This is all your fault for getting feelings that you’d laughed at the possibility of months ago. You’ve lost him anyway and it’s caused a great  chasm in your heart.

 How can you be mourning something that wasn’t even real in the first place?

When you became friends with Frankie, he introduced you to some of his friends from his military days. While you didn’t exactly get on with all of them, Tom is aloof at best, Benny and you had become friends over time. In the wake of your fictionalised break-up, you’ve lost those people too. You’ve avoided Benny’s fights, wanted Frankie to have his friends without the bother of you. Besides, you’ve been focused on work. You had a trip away for a few days and then you had a big project, presentations. Work has been something to throw yourself into.

It’s a good plan, but Benny keeps texting you and personally invites you to his next fight.

You and Frankie have both said you’re still friends so what’s the problem?

I don’t know if it’s a good idea.

Just come to the damn fight, would you? Liv keeps asking after you.

You decide you should go at least once to show your face. You can do this, you can handle one night. You like Liv, Benny’s girlfriend, and you can say hello and then vanish quickly after the fight ends. If you’re careful with the seating set up, you might not even see Frankie or have to talk to him at all.

The bar is crowded and while Will, Santiago, Tom and Frankie all greeted you when you arrive, it feels different. Stilted somehow.

 It’s almost how it would feel if this was a genuine break up, if this was real. You suppose it is to Santiago, Tom and Will.

You sat with Benny’s girlfriend, Liv, for the fight. She squeezed your hand sympathetically when she catches you looking over at Frankie.

Frankie still looks the same as ever, you think as you cast your eyes over to where he is in the crowd. He’s wearing his usual hat, the one you’ve teased him about for years but can’t picture him ever giving up, with well fitting jeans and a jacket. He looks infuriatingly good.

Before the fight Frankie had moved so he was next to you and he looked like he wanted to say something to you before the fight began. Panicked, you quickly moved next to Liv instead and so you were sitting on the other side of the group to him as you took your seats.

Crisis averted, you thought. Only now, you can’t stop wondering what he might have said to you.

“I can’t see why you can’t get it together,” Benny says, taking a sip from his bottle of beer. The two of you are standing together by the bar, waiting for the rest of the group’s drinks. Benny’s mostly fixed up from his fight, with just a small red stain on his forehead between the steri-strips and bruises. You think the other guy must look a lot worse. 

“Wait, what did you say?” you ask.

“I don’t see why you and Frankie can’t work it out. I mean, look at him,” Benny points his bottle towards your friends, to where your attention had just been. Frankie’s standing on the edge of the group, arms folded, hat rigid. He looks uncomfortable.

You shouldn’t have come here tonight.

“We tried and it wasn’t a good fit. It wasn’t going to work out,,” you say flatly, repeating the line you and Frankie had agreed on.

“Look, you might have fooled the others, but you can’t fool me.”

Your stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know you guys were fake dating at first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You could barely keep your stories straight about how you got together when I asked,” Benny says softly. “You kept adding details and I noticed Frankie shake his head whenever you did that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Does Frankie know?” You’re mortified for him, you know how embarrassed he would feel if he found out that Benny had guessed all along it was fake.

This really can’t get any worse.

“‘Cause you two obviously liked each other. I assumed that you’d figure it out along the way. I thought you had, but then -” Benny trails off.

“You know when you assume, you make an ass -”

‘Oh sweetheart, don’t even finish that sentence.“ Benny exhales. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s what you said, it was fake and we ended it and it’s all fine now.”

“Bullshit,” Benny exclaims, his southern drawl even more pronounced.

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

The bartender interrupts by finally handing you the rest of your drinks and between you and Benny, you take them and rejoin your friends.

‘Cause you two obviously liked each other.

Benny’s words echo in your mind. He didn’t say because you liked Frankie, but because you both did.

Frankie doesn’t like you like that though, you know this. He’s clearly just a very good actor.

You end up the one handing Frankie his drink, no doubt due to Benny’s meddling. Your hands brush against his as he takes the bottle and you can’t help looking up at him, noticing the unreadable expression on his face.

Will coughs loudly and you quickly take a step back.

“It was a good fight, Benny,” you say awkwardly, hoping he’ll take the change of subject.

“I need a smoke,” Frankie says, hunching his shoulders as he walks away from the group.

The room instantly turns cold. 

You awkwardly pull the edge of your jacket down, wishing the ground would swallow you up. Santi, Tom and Will are staring at you and you can’t be here. They hate you, they’re judging you.

This is so fucked up.

“I’m uh, going to go.”

Liv makes a motion as if to stop you, but she doesn’t, and Benny’s looking at you with real disappointment but that doesn’t stop you either. You’re getting good at running away now.

You’re too afraid to look behind you and see whether they’re looking at you as you walk away.

Frankie’s standing by the parking lot when you finally weave your way past the crowds and bloody fighters to reach the exit.

He looks surprised to see you. Just seeing his face makes your heart ache because you’ve lost him, you’ve lost him and you didn’t want to.

“I’m leaving now, so you can go back in” you say flatly.

“I was just having a smoke,” he says defensively. It’s an obvious lie, you both know it.

“Sure, Frankie. Look, you can’t just stomp off like that. You can’t leave me in that position with everyone. It’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things we don’t discuss, lot of things that aren’t fair,” Frankie says bitterly, tossing his cigarette to the floor and stamping on it a little too vigorously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s going on with you? This wasn’t meant to affect our friendship. I never, ever would have agreed if I’d known,” Frankie says firmly. “You were my friend and I still wanted you to be but you ghosted me and ended our deal. That’s fine, but we didn’t go back to normal after. We just - it’s like you hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Just would you tell me what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why -”

“It was too real,” you whisper, folding your arms around yourself and leaning against the brick wall.

“What? What did you say?” Frankie asks, moving closer.

“You know, the faking it thing. It was too real, it was confusing me. And I - I didn’t want to ruin everything but I still ruined it all. Story of my life.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You think, somehow he’s going to break your heart even more tonight and you didn’t think that was possible..

“I just - I got confused.”

“How did you get confused?” he asks in a low voice, taking another step closer to you.

“Don’t, Frankie, don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” he asks, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, “I can’t understand you. I mean, this was your idea and then you ended it and now you don’t even want to be friends? I don’t know what I did but -”

“You did nothing, Frankie. It’s me, not you.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Clearly something happened. Can’t you just talk to me? I’m fucking miserable here. You were supposed to be my friend and I miss you.” You hadn’t thought that your actions could have hurt Frankie, you thought you were protecting him by doing what you did.

You feel even worse, a sick feeling rising in your stomach. 

“It got muddled in my head, okay, it felt like it was real and I couldn’t do that to you, so that’s why - that’s why.” You falter at the end of your sentence as all of the adrenaline and energy from your body fades away..

“It got too real for you? What are you saying?”

“That I like you. That I ended up liking you more than I should, you obtuse jerk!”

Frankie pauses then takes another step closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, a slight smile on his face that you can’t make any sense of.

“It’s embarrassing, Frankie. We made an arrangement and I caught feelings like an idiotic teenager. I’m just daydreaming my life away again.”

Frankie is so close to you right now, he braces his hands against the wall as he stands right in front of you.

“You caught feelings, huh?”

You notice a familiar smirk on his face and then he’s kissing you.

Frankie’s kissed you before; it’s been part of the facade after all, but not like this.

This kiss is everything. It sends molten heat down your core, renders your mind completely blank. All the anxiety, all the internal dialogue is gone for once. The silence is blissful as you can feel your heart pounding, take in the soft texture of Frankie’s shirt as you fist it to pull him closer because now he’s with you like this, you can’t let him go.

It’s not an aggressive kiss, it’s not teeth clashing or fury. It’s not exactly gentle either.  Frankie kisses you with care; like he’s trying to take you apart right here and now with just a kiss.

In just one minute, he’s ruined you for other people. No one else could kiss you like Frankie does.

“I told you, if I kissed you for real it wouldn’t be boring,” Frankie mumbles, moving his attention down your jaw and neck to your collarbone. You can feel the velvet softness of his lips, the heat of his breath.

“Oh fuck you,” you joke.

”Well, baby, I think I’m trying. Not here though, we can do better than that.”

You both laugh. The tension breaks for just a second as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, laugh into his neck, breathe him in.

“C’mon, you had to know I liked you. I just, I  just thought you deserved someone better than me -” Frankie starts.

“That’s bullshit,” you argue. Frankie is kind, thoughtful and funny. He’s also so competent, multi-skilled and as you’ve just learned, an excellent kisser. Frankie has that quiet and collected energy you’ve noticed in a lot of ex-military people too. He flies planes and helicopters for a living. He’s your friend. How could you deserve any better than him?

“Can we get out of here?” Frankie asks, “Talk, not talk, I don’t mind. I just - I want to be with you right now. God, I missed you.”

“Okay. I really fucking missed you too,” you say, kissing his shoulder lightly before leaning back against the wall.

He doesn’t stop touching you the whole way to your apartment. He’s either holding your hand or touching your leg. If he has to temporarily remove himself to make a turn or change gear, he’s immediately back with you as soon as possible. You wonder if he’s worried you’ll leave or vanish if he’s not actually touching you, if he’s also wondering if this is really happening..

His car stereo blares uncharacteristically cheerful music by the latest pop sensation and you raise your eyebrows when he looks over at you.

“It’s her favourite album by her favourite singer and school’s been rough for her the last few weeks so this cheers her up,” he says defensively, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, “I think I can probably hear it even when it’s not playing now.”

“Sure, but your daughter’s not in the car with us. Is she, Frankie? You could have switched it over.”

“I keep forgetting to change the CD,” he whines unconvincingly. “This car’s old.”

You make your way to your apartment, his arm around you, fingers entwined with yours the whole time.

As soon as you close the front door, he’s pushing your back against the wall, cupping his hands around your face to kiss you deeply.

You move your hands up to meet his and then move one of your hands down his chest.

“Your heart’s racing like crazy,” you mumble as he kisses a particular spot on your neck.

There’s always a moment of fear at a junction like this. What if the sex is bad - what if you’re just not compatible this way? But you need him, you need him with you, in you and the two of you are both too far gone to focus on that now.

Your friendship is changed anyway. There’s nothing more to lose.

He places his hands on your hips, pulls you away towards your bedroom.

“I want you so much,” he says.

“I want you too,” you reply, dazed between kisses as he navigates you to the edge of your bed.

He ghosts his hands down to the edge of your top and you move to desperately pull it off you.

You watch him take in the sight of you in your bra, take in the smile on his face. He looks at you with something like reverence; as if he can’t quite take it in that you’re real and you’re with him. Part of you wants to glow under his gaze and the rest of you fights panic, because this feels different, it feels real. You’ve never been looked at like this before.

You’ll do anything to keep this moment.

He gently unhooks your bra, moves his kisses down from your lips to your neck to your collarbone to the curve of your breasts and then down again.

His hands fumble with the button of your jeans and you’re desperate for him.

“What do you want, baby?”

You, you think, I just want you.

”C’mon, tell me,” he coaxes.

“I just need you. I want you to - ”

“I’ve got you,” he says, calmly lifting your hips to remove your jeans, to touch the hem of your underwear - and could you have not put better underwear on this morning?

You open your mouth to say something but then he comes back to meet your lips as he moves his hand inside your underwear. You’re already slick with wanting him, he slides a finger inside before tracing circles over your bundle of nerves to make you gasp.

 “You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers as he continues taking you apart.

“Frankie -”

“I’ve liked you for so long, I just thought you didn’t want me that way. I’d take anything you give me - friendship, I mean fake dating. I thought it was as close as I’d get.”

“Frankie, how could I not want you that way? You’re - you’re Frankie.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m going to show you.”

You feel your orgasm building and clasp your hands over his shoulders, into his hair. You shut your eyes and then it’s gone.

“Frankie?”

You open your eyes to see him take his finger into his mouth then mischievously smiles as he moves back and off the bed. He moves you so your legs are over the edge of the bed and then. He gets on his knees.

You take a deep breath He kisses the inside of your knee, traces kiss up your thigh until he meets you. You sit up slightly on your elbows as he looks up to meet your gaze with a dazed smile before he turns his attention to you.

Frankie Morales knows exactly what he’s doing between your legs but in case, you tell him how good he is anyway. He takes you apart with expert precision, gets you back to the precipice of pleasure all too quickly and guides you over the line.

“Do you want to -” he asks breathlessly as he comes back to you afterwards and kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his hardness pressing into you.

“Yeah, I do. I have uh - condoms in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Give me a second.” He kisses you briefly and you shut your eyes again as he goes to the bathroom. You try and catch your breath back and get your legs to stop trembling.

Why are the condoms so fucking far away? You still desperately need him, still need to feel him.

When Frankie comes back, he kisses you hungrily before he slides the condom over his length.

“Fuck, to think we could have been doing this the whole time,” he says before he’s sliding inside you.

There’s nothing else at this moment. It’s just you and him and the way you dig your fingers into his back with your free hand and the way your other hands is entwined in his as he moves inside you, the two of you desperately exchanging  sweet nothings to each other, groaning each other’s names.

Your heart is racing and the blood is pumping in your ears. You watch the expression on his face just before he buries his face in your neck, sure he can feel the way you’re tightening around him, can surely feel how close you are too and then just as he takes you to that place one more time, you hear the way he moans as he joins you.

The next morning you watch Frankie pacing your balcony as speaks on the phone to his daughter. His hair is still damp from the shower, curling at the ends, and he has a mug of coffee in his other hand. He turns and smiles at you.

Just twenty four hours ago, you never thought Frankie could feel that way about you. You were resigned to your mistakes and your losses.

You were wrong.

He hangs up the phone and you walk over to join him on the balcony, your mug of coffee tightly clasped between your hands.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his phone in his pocket and wrapping his now free arm around you as he takes a gulp of coffee.

You take a sip of your own coffee.

“I was just thinking,” Frankie says, “so, I guess the story we came up with before was true, right? We just realised how we felt about each other one day - and okay, it might have taken some fake dating to get us both there - but no one else needs to know that.”

“No one else needs to know that.”

You definitely need to tell Frankie at some point that Benny has figured everything out, that Benny clearly pushed you two together last night. You probably owe him a thank you, but you’ll never tell Benny that.

“So, what do we do now?” There’s a lot you need to discuss, figure out, but you just want to be with him. Surely that’s enough for now.

Frankie grins. “Well, I don’t need to be home until the afternoon so I’ve got some time right now.”

“I’m sure we can think of some things to fill that time.”

Frankie laughs. “Definitely.”

Tag List

All Pedro characters: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction

[cherryredstars]

in simon's relationship struggles, you mentioned that he presents you with the ring and you hold out your hand and he slips it onto your finger without either of you saying a word... i love that idea as i am a quiet person myself. would you expand on that please? maybe some hcs about a quiet love shared between them?? sfw or nsfw (or both:)) up to you love your work so much <333

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: How you and Simon show your love without words. 

A/N: I smiled so wide seeing this request!! Thank you for loving my little blog!

Word Count: 770 (Not Edited)

It will forever be about the little things. Every detail and trait and action. It’s about the things that are magnified within the warm silence. It’s not a secretive love. A love that is shielded away from the eyes of others so it can be questioned. It’s the type of love that is so clear that there isn’t any question of its existence. 

Simon is so perceptive. He notices every micro-expression you have and the slightest changes in body language. He documents it in his mind, storing it for a later date even if it doesn’t seem important. It always comes in handy in some way or another. 

When he’s out on missions, far from home and missing you, he tends to imagine your reactions to everything. When he’s out in the towns, he’ll briefly pause outside the shop. He’ll remember the way you had slightly twitched your nose at the colors of a piece of clothing. How your eyes strayed onto something a few seconds longer than usual. Then he’ll walk away from the shop, remembering the name. He’ll be sure to return before he goes home.

He brings back trinkets for you. Always. And it is always something you fall in love with. The same details. He already knows what you would want. What would grace him with that fond smile as you cradle them in your hands. It’s all based on elimination. He’ll pick something up, examine every aspect of it and then go through his checklist of you. How you’ve reacted to similar things in the past and deciding from there if he should move on. He never misses.

In return, you do your little acts of service. Always making sure everything he loves is stocked in the house when he comes home. Has his tea brewing and the kettle going for his convenience. You have the spaces in the house prepared for him to place his things. You make the transition from military to civilian as smooth as possible. His heart warms when he goes to the kitchen at any hour of the day or night, huffing at the sink of dishes. But his body relaxes and the tiniest smile graces his face when he looks to the side and his mug is already in the drying rack waiting for him. 

He has never been more content than on the days he leaves for deployment. You will be dead asleep besides him, but it feels like you’re by his side the whole time he prepares to leave. In the kitchen, everything is laid out for him. The box of tea and the kettle and the to-go cup. A throw-away bag sitting in the fridge with a homemade meal for him to eat while he’s away. All the last minute things he grabs on the counter where he can’t miss it. 

Before he leaves, he makes sure you’re prepared for anything that might happen. He has carefully instructed papers for any situation. Step by step things followed with materials for reference. He makes sure nothing is broken or may be in need of a spruce up before he leaves to minimize your inconveniences. Makes sure the fireplace has wood to last months. Double checks the backup supply of water is filled to the top. Buys extra batteries for emergency flashlights and the back up generator. Makes sure the car has a spare and a filled gas canister that is safely stored away. He predicts any problems you may have and thinks of ways to reduce and prevent it. 

There are notes everywhere. You find them in drawers and in small spaces. In the obvious spots and the questionable ones. Inside pants pockets and coats. All have miscellaneous messages. Some paragraphs long and some with small drawings. It warms both of your hearts. You carry a note scratched out in Simon’s chicken scratch reading Why is there a bottle of water in the bathroom cabinet? Simon’s tactical vest has a crumpled and ripped hot pink sticky note that reads A magikarp can easily fuck you up <3 with the ugliest looking fish drawn under it.

The best form of your love is the quiet nights spent in each other’s company. Laying together with small brushes to each other’s skin. It burns into your hearts, and it’s nice to know that the two of you can just exist with each other. The kisses are slow and loving. The touches are lingering and full of yearning. When the two of you slide into bed, tucked against each other, you find it hard to think anything can exist outside of your love.

Simon has no idea what a “magikarp” is, and he has almost drunk micellar water before.

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[strawberrystepmom]

i love you more than being seventeen

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

word count: 2.7k

about: all that kento can think about at the end is you and you and you.

contents: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, JJK SHIBUYA ARC SPOILERS. mutual pining over the course of many years, angst, no happy ending i’m sorry :( but the story itself has a few cute moments

notes: this is a repost from my old blog. title is from evening sun by the strokes! i still love this fic so much and it’s one of my favorite things i’ve ever written BUT there have been edits made and the ending is a little different. same impact, just more concise. thanks for reading!!!!

divider is thanks to @/cafekitsune

When Nanami's consciousness begins to fade, darkness enveloping the edges of his vision, one of the things he can recall most clearly is you.

You're 15, it's your first day of high school. You're the only person in your class, just like him. He's graduating this year and has already mentally checked out, doing just enough to get through, but he can see how anxious you look. The sleeves of your uniform are a bit too long, he wonders if it's on purpose like his are and your backpack is clearly brand new and covered in pins you probably picked out just for your first day. 

A breeze picks up and blows the hem of your pleated skirt, exposing the skin just above your knee and he looks away immediately although you certainly can’t tell he’s even looking at you. Assessing you, the better term perhaps.

“Can you help me?”

A sweet and uncertain voice asks him. It belongs to you and he’s surprised that you asked him. It doesn’t take a very intelligent person to take one look at a 17-year-old Kento and see that he isn’t necessarily the approachable type. He isn’t unkind but his face is just as solemn as it will be when he grows up, mouth always set in a firm line. 

“Sorry, you’re probably busy,” you mumble and he shakes his head, hiking the strap of his bag back up over his shoulder. “It’s alright. First day?” You nod, your uncertainty obvious in every one of your movements as you grip the straps of your backpack tightly. 

“Someone was supposed to meet me here otherwise I wouldn’t be bothering you,” you explain as the two of you walk toward the sweeping entrance to the school itself. Your eyes widen as you take in the pillars and stairs, the greenery and flowers - it’s grand to say the least. Part of Nanami is amused watching you take it all in but he focuses on the task at hand. “It’s alright, like I said,” he starts and clears his throat. “Do you know who you’re supposed to be meeting?”

Your brow furrows, as if you’re thinking really hard, and you scrunch your nose.

“Gojo?”

Nanami rolls his eyes at the mere sound of the name. Of course he’s late and left you standing outside of the school, confused and alone. He knows that Gojo is technically his sensei now and he should respect him but he finds him just distasteful enough that it serves better to ignore him than to feed into his nonsense.

“Yeah, he does that,” Nanami shoots back cooly as he walks beside you up the steps. The zippers on your backpack jingle and he’s shot back into reality, ringing in his ears loud enough to quiet the sound of pumping blood. 

He swears you can hear you call his name through the chaos, the footsteps and the screeching, but he closes his eyes. Tightly. Tries to concentrate on the source of the sound before realizing it’s in his own head, the cinematic reel in his head playing on a strange loop of fragmented pieces of his life spent wishing for you.

You.

The two of you are thigh to thigh inside of a photo booth, music playing through the little speaker underneath the tiny screen where you can see your two faces. 

Kento isn’t sure how you roped him into this, an evening away from the school and in the city something you probably both needed, but it feels correct and inappropriate at the same time. The last few months have given him tiny glimpses into your life through the shared area of the student dorms. 

He knows that you leave your shoes wherever you carry them after you take them off with a disgruntled whine. He dutifully places them next to your door when he sees them, the soles touching and the toes of each shoe pointed toward the wall.

He knows that you stay up too late watching television when you should be studying, the fighting noises of shonen anime coming from beneath the door of your room or the common room while you giggle or gasp along. He always wraps you in a blanket his grandmother made him when you fall asleep on the couch, drool crusting over on the corner of your lips.

He would do these things for no one else and he believes that strange dedication he feels to your comfort has led him here, long legs jutting out in front of him a nearly too small photo booth. Your bare thigh is pressed against the side of his jeans and he finds it hard to breathe with the sweet smell of your floral shampoo filling the entire left side of this enclosed space.

Fight or flight begins to kick in as the situation overwhelms him but you place a comforting hand on his forearm and smile easily, reminding him that the countdown is about to begin and to smile. He doesn’t smile but the corner of his mouth quirks in a way that you find adorable enough to giggle at, your big smile filling the screen as the flash snaps the first of four photos.

“Another! Make a funny face this time,” you order and Kento nods, lifting the other side of his lips in what one could almost call a smile while you stick out your tongue and hold two of your fingers up in bunny ears behind his head.

You like him. Even Gojo has noticed it, calling you out during your last mission with him.

“So…Nanami?” He asked with a little sideways grin and you groaned in frustration and stomped away. Satoru knew it then. 

The shutter clicks and the flash explodes and you withdraw your fingers from behind Kento’s blonde head, feeling compelled to barely touch the top of it with your pointer finger. His hair is soft, brushed in front of his face, and you think you’ll remember the electric zap you feel like your heart forever as you gather your hands back in your lap.

Nanami assesses you carefully and shifts closer to you and you feel heat rise into your cheeks. The tips of your ears are warm and dangerously close to the side of his face and you look down just in time for the camera to click and to capture the top of your head and the side of his face. 

You laugh, shaking your head as the two of you compose yourselves long enough for the final photo and you gasp a little when Kento hovers his face just inches from yours. Your soft cheek nearly touches his cheekbone and you fist the fabric of your skirt to keep from freaking out as you grin. 

Giddiness rises inside of you, the proximity to the older boy sending your mind reeling with possibilities. You even notice both corners of Kento’s mouth have risen in a sort of smile as the final camera shutter sounds and the two of you file out of the booth and you reach to grasp the strip of photos, easily tearing it in half.

“Why did you do that?” 

Nanami asks, brow furrowed as he watches you look over the sets of photos contained in each of the pieces of the strip. You hold the one with the last two photos out toward him, the top photo showing him staring at the top of your head and the bottom his attempt at a smile. 

“Half for me and half for you,” you respond easily. 

He wishes all of this came that easily for him. These feelings, these moments, this tender sense of compassion he feels just for you. 

As the memory leaves, he’s reminded that the same strip of photos lives in the wallet in his left back pocket. Buried beneath business cards and bandages, a talisman to bring him back to you even when the two of you were separated after he graduated and left the school.

He hates thinking of those times, those years where he left you behind, but he’s too weak to will those memories away for better ones. The waves of his consciousness drift to another piece of his life, those lost years. His graduation. The ignored text messages.

“Happy birthday, Nanami-san! Miss you and hope to see you soon. Have a great day.”

He opened the message on his 22nd birthday and left it on read, just as he had with the message on his 21st, his 20th, his 19th. You’ve wondered several times if he changed his number and didn't let anyone know.

You’re 19, a year past your own graduation and you are working as a full time sorcerer. You aren’t particularly challenged in your role but you find it fulfilling in its own strange way. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you sigh as you scroll through the messaging thread and an indescribable wistfulness falls over you.

You’d go back and do it all differently if you could. Beg him to stay, encourage him in the work of a sorcerer, but that would make you selfish. Keeping him here would have been for you and not for him and there’s nothing saying you had the power to convince him anyway. 

Locking your phone, you drop it on the table and walk to the fridge where your half of the photo strip sits on the fridge all of these years later. It’s tucked beneath a magnet that holds up a copy of the graduation invitation you sent Kento last year. You texted him, asking if he’d like to come and perhaps you should have taken the hint back then. 

He doesn’t want to be friends anymore.

The realization hits you at once and you open the fridge, plucking out leftovers, and shut it with an unenthusiastic slam. Padding back toward your living room, you pick up your phone and unlock the device. The screen still shows your text message thread with Nanami and against your better judgment, you type. Thumbs moving thunderously, you continue typing until you feel satisfied you have laid it out for him and your finger hovers over the message. Pressing down, you try to highlight the text to erase it but instead you slip and hit the send button.

“Fuck!” You shout loud enough you’re certain that your neighbor will file another noise complaint and you feel more horrified reading over your words the second time.

Kento’s phone pings from where it sits on his desk, another late night in front of the computer keeping him from doing anything enjoyable on his special day. He doesn’t bother to check the sender, knowing it’s probably something asinine from a client or a coworker, but his eyes widen as he sees the preview of the paragraph sent with your name attached.

“It’s okay if you hate us now but it would be nice to know that you’re alright,” his eyes scan each word carefully and he isn’t surprised by their bite but he feels guilty. Raw and bubbling deep in his gut, feelings he contained through college and far beyond surfacing in ways he didn’t expect. “I was your friend. I still want to be and hopefully someday you will let me.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looks over the honest appraisal of his character (“you’re a good person and that will always be true”), the tough love approach you tested halfway through (“I don’t want to do this job any more than you did and here I am”), and finally the thing you wanted to erase the most before you sent it.

“I’ll always love you even if you’ve never had it in you to do the same for me.”

He wonders for a moment if you mean that. Do you love him? Did you feel it back then the same way he did? The syrupy light feeling in your limbs, the heaviness in your head every time the two of you would study or eat or spend time together.

Setting his phone back down, he wonders for a moment how much sending that message cost you considering the length and if he should respond. Was this your goodbye? A way of finally freeing him from your mind? 

Before he has time to truly think about it, his desk phone rings despite the time of day and he answers it with a sigh.

You look down at your screen and once again see a delivered notification with no sign of any other life on the other side.

“Kento!”

He’s glad you’ve dropped the formalities even if the timing is bad, his fatigued body stumbling in your direction. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air and blurry vision still shows him your face, gasping as you run to meet him from halfway across the train station that feels cavernous.

The last time he heard you shout his name was when he arrived back at the gate of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, an employee ID card clipped to his slacks and his cursed tool snug in the harness strapped across his broad back. It’s new and familiar all at the same time and he hates thinking of the smug look on Gojo’s face when he called him to ask to come back.

“I wonder why,” Satoru teased from the other end of the phone. 

Nanami only sighed from the other end, the two of them continuing their quick back and forth and scheduling a time where they could meet with the administration at the school. Their conversation is quick and polite but the final words out of his old friend's mouth are what remind him of the first domino that fell and led him back to these stone steps. “She’ll be glad to see you again.”

You’re standing across the courtyard and he’s surprised to see you for the first time in 6 years. You look the same as you did on that first day in a lot of ways. A pleated skirt, breeze lifting the hem just slightly away from your bare thighs. He doesn’t bother to look away this time, the peek of skin enough to send heat up his neck.

“Kento!” You shout again, hopping and running in his direction. He shakes his head as your heavy boots smack against the pavement and before he can blink, you’re in front of him with a grin. “Holy shit!” 

Ever humble, he nods in your direction and tips his chin toward the ground to hide a burgeoning smile. He looks the same but different, just like you. The sides of his hair are shorter than you’ve ever seen them, the longer top slicked away from his face. He’s handsome - he always has been and you try to ignore the little fluttering feeling inside of your chest and in your stomach. 

“Welcome back,” your final choice on what to say as you clap your palm against his shoulder and he smiles at the familiar feeling. He never thought he’d experience it again. 

“Hey,” he says and you look up at him. The sunlight frames your face in a way he wants to memorize forever, emblazoned in a metaphorical heart shaped locket in his mind. He wants to look at you every day. He hates that he let pride keep him from doing that. Exhaling, he says the words he has wanted to since you were 15 and he was 17.

“I love you.”

The sound of your heavy boots across cement and tile are what he chooses to focus on as you continue your mad dash in his direction, his lips mumbling those three words over and over. He knows you can’t save him and he has come to terms with that reality but he wants to see you standing in front of him one last time. To see a breeze blow the edge of that skirt up just enough he can picture where he’d put his hands on your thighs if he ever had the chance. 

Before you can make it the distance, so close to him you can read his lips, his words change. You think you know what he was saying before his stumbling continued but that patchwork curse steps in front of him and blocks him from your view. 

“You’ve got it from here.”

He points in the direction of Yuuji Itadori who is on the opposite side of you and you turn your head to look at the pink haired young man for a single moment, confused.

You gasp when you turn back toward Kento and he’s gone.

He’s gone.

#kendall writes #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #cw angst

[biancadjarin]

ʚ Send Me an Angel ɞ

- pairing: mean!eddie munson x bratty!henderson older sister!female reader

- content warning: 18+ nothing too graphic, but I prefer no minors on my blog, thankssss

- a/n: idk what this is lol, I just love fem/bratty reader and intimidating/mean Eddie <3

“Ugh why do your weird nerdy friends have to come here Dusty??” you pout at your little brother as you lay on your stomach on your bed, him staring at you from your doorway.

“I told you, the drama kids are putting on a play or some shit so we can’t play D&D in there.” He says to you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just stay in here, my friends don’t wanna listen to your stupid shows on the TV or watch you dance around to your girly music.” He slams your door shut and your head shoots up off a pillow, shocked at how rude he can be. You scoff and roll onto your back, eyes growing heavy and leading you into your after school nap.

You’re rudely awakened by loud laughter and yelling. You look at the pink clock on your wall. 6:05pm. Their little game has only been going for 5 minutes and you’re already annoyed. You get up and head to your door, swinging it open and heading towards the bathroom for a quick shower before you go make yourself some dinner.

“C’mon Eddie, I wanna cast a spell, hurry up and roll!” you hear Mike Wheeler yell. Little twerp just like your brother. Always running into the house, tracking in dirt, leaving their bikes in the drivew… Wait. Eddie. Eddie’s here. In your dining room. You’ve had a crush on Eddie all year and while you two have talked here and there, you’d be lying if you said his harsh leather metal head look didn’t scare you a bit. You’re all soft edges, pink backpack, frilly white socks rolled over your reeboks, soft hair swaying. You’re not perfect, certainly no Phoebe Cates. But you know you’re pretty, plush lips over straight teeth, cute perky boobs and a butt that jiggles when you walk.

You’ve felt Eddie’s eyes on you at school. Once he even bumped into you when you stopped short to tie your shoe. “Walk much?” Eddie said to you with a glare. “Oh!” You’d said as you spun around, surprised at his proximity. “S-sorry.” You said sweetly, his big brown eyes stared at you and made your tummy flutter in the most amazing way. Your tummy isn’t flat and perfect but that’s ok. You like cookies too much, is that a crime?!

“Actually since you’re here, can you hold my books while I tie my shoes?” you’d asked, voice smooth and sweet like syrup. Eddie stared at you for a second then put out his hands. You assumed that meant yes so you handed him your heavy textbooks. You turned and bent forward, ass almost grazing his crotch. The way the fabric of your white jeans stretched across your cute little butt made him stop breathing. Eddie’s mind went blank, mouth going dry and fingers going numb from the weight. Your textbooks slipped out of his hands and hit the floor with a slam. You squeaked a scared little scream and stood back up quickly. “Shit are you okay?” Eddie asks you as he drops down and picks the books back up, placing them gently into your small hands. “I’m fine. Was just loud. Scared me.” He chuckled, eyes narrowed and and flickered with mischief, making you wonder if he did that on purpose. “I’m sorry angel… I mean-” Your reaction to his nickname for you got cut short when you jumped for the second time in the last two minutes thanks to the class bell ringing. “Gotta go.” Eddie said with a wink before racing past you, your face red with embarrassment.

You giggle at the memory as you exit the shower. Quickly running back to your room to get ready, you think to yourself: How can I get Eddie’s attention but not let him know he has mine? I think he likes me but I don’t wanna look too desperate. Gotta tease him a bit… You curl your lashes and put on your sparkly pink lipgloss. You open your closet and weigh your options… tight jeans?… but you want Eddie to see your panties. A dress? that’s a little too obvious… your fingers reach for your soft pink frilly mini skirt that has a matching jacket that your friend borrowed and never gave back. You slip it on, white and pink lace panties underneath with a scalloped edge that hug your ass just right. A simple white T shirt that’s slightly see through over a matching pink and white lace bra and a couple sparkly silver necklaces finish your outfit. Barefoot you begin to creep downstairs, the sounds of boys whooping and dice hitting your wooden dining room table growing louder as you ascend.

“So uh, where’s your sister D?” you hear one of the boys ask. You stop on the second to last step, leaning in to listen. It’s not Eddie’s voice, but too deep to be Mike or Lucas’s. “Up in her room, she’s so annoying.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe..” Gareth grumbles. “But I certainly don’t mind lookin’ at her.” Everyone busts out into laughter except your brother. “Ew dude gross! Shut up, it’s your turn.” “Yeah G,” you finally hear Eddie’s voice, it sounds deep and tight like he’s clenching his jaw. “Roll the dice before I write you out of this whole campaign.” “Jeez fine. I got a 12.” “Not enough, you lose 18 hit points.” “What the fuck man!”

As the game continues you saunter past the table, only turning your head once to smile and wave politely at the group. You feel Eddie’s eyes follow you all the way to the kitchen. Their conversation continues on, sounding further away now. You begin to warm up some rice and leftover chicken, mixing up a strawberry lemonade while the microwave whirs. As you watch the yellow drink turn pink you feel a warmth encroach your space, the smell of weed and cinnamon gum filling your nostrils.

“Hey y/n.. didn’t know you were here.” Eddie says as he stands behind you. Closer than what would be considered normal. You spin around, big doe eyes looking up and meeting his, small silver spoon that you were mixing with coming up to your lips and sucking, savoring the tangy powder. His eyes fall to your mouth, half hooded, eyebrows raising slightly. You pull it out slowly and lick the tip of it with your tongue, before saying “I live here. Where else would I be?” in your bratty tone.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Friday night, thought maybe you’d be on a date.” He says with a crooked smile. Does he think about me going on dates? He crowds closer into your space, you feel the countertop at your back as you lean against it. “Nope. No date. Maybe you can set me up with one of your friends?” you say as you look past him, over his shoulder towards where Hellfire is. “My friends? You wanna date one of us?” “I don’t know.. maybe. You think they’d be interested?” you ask him confidently but your heart is beating so fast, your breath uneven, chest rising with every shaky inhale. BEEEEEP. The microwave signals behind you. “Eddie! You done in the bathroom yet?!” you hear your brother yell from down the hall. “Sounds like you’re needed out there.” You say to him, beginning to slide past him. His hand shoots up to grab your hip and maneuver you back. Caged in by him.

“Yeah, gimme five minutes!” He yells over his shoulder. You stare up at him, unsure what he’s going to do. He reaches behind you picking up your pink lemonade and drinks the whole thing in one long sip. You watch as his neck stretches back and his adams apple bobs when he swallows. The pale smooth skin of his neck looking irresistibly bite-able. “Sweet. Like you.” He says, low and gravelly. He puts the glass down and drops his chin to his chest, looking at the small space between your bodies. “Is this a skirt or a belt? So fuckin’ short I thought I saw some ass when you walked by.” “Maybe I wanted your friend to see. What’s his name? With the curls… Gareth?” Eddie snorts and throws his head back with a mock laugh. “Gareth wouldn’t know what to do with you.” His eyes sweep down your neck, your chest and stop at where the thin fabric of your shirt and lace bra are barely doing anything to cover the pebbled peaks of your nipples. “Oh and you know what to do with me?” you ask, eyebrows raising condescendingly. He exhales a low growl before reaching to grab the back of your squishy thighs and lifting you up onto the counter.

“I’d have a lot of fun finding out-” he leans forward, hands softly grasping the back of your calves, thumbs rubbing up and down the smooth skin as he guides them to rest around his thighs. “Angel.” he says with a wink. You feel a shudder go through you, ending at your core and making you ache between your legs. Eddie’s standing between your spread thighs, the rough fabric of his black jeans rubbing against your legs as he talks. Everything about him feels so warm. “Listen to me real good now.” He says, lips brushing the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to erupt down the whole left side of your body. “You’re going to eat your little snack. Then go back upstairs to your room and wait for me. Think you can do that?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s backing away and walking back down the hallway. “EDDIE COME OOON!” Gareth yells. “Comin’!” He says back, wide smirk dancing on his lips.

You’re left in the kitchen wondering what just happened and what you just got yourself into…

Part 2 HERE

Masterlist HERE

——————Thanks for reading!—————

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #mean!eddie #bratty!reader #eddie munson moodboard #henderson!sister #eddie x henderson!reader

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Spring, 2020 - North Island Naval Base

Chapter 5 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Rooster's been on house arrest for months now. Months of Ice and Mav, his parents for all intents and purposes, constantly around. Months in which he's been thinking and thinking about Tinkerbell. How she could be his. How she's all alone. How everyone seems intent on painting her as the bad guy. But more than that, Bradley's been thinking about how sorry he is. Sorry that he hadn't said anything before that disastrous flight. Sorry that he was so stupid. Sorry that he wasn't enough.

A chance encounter on base shows him who the true culprit is, as well as how many people are on his side, on both of their sides.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3465

A/N: Here’s the second part of Chapter 5! We've seen what is happening with Tinkerbell, now we're going to see what is happening with Rooster. He's a bit of a mess, but hopefully he's able to sort himself out. Thanks to @roosterforme for reading over this part when I was struggling with Rooster's perspective and giving me all the feedback!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

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Rooster

There’s this incessant beeping in the background and all Bradley can think in that moment is that he wants it to stop. His limbs feel like they weigh a million pounds and his eyelids feel even heavier. There’s somebody talking, but a part of Bradley isn’t ready to leave the fantasy world he’d been in. Honestly, who could blame him? He’d spent time with his parents! Bradley’s not sure it was real, not really. He's too rational for that, but it feels like the balm his soul needed. Maybe it is time to wake up.

All through his time dreaming, there’s been a nagging thought in his mind. His soulmate. How is she doing? What is she doing? Did she feel his pain? Bradley can still remember what it had been like when they’d found out his dad had passed away. The Navy had sent out an honor guard with that stupid ridiculous triangular folded flag like it would automatically bring him back. But they hadn’t needed to send the guard out at all. His mom had known the second it happened. The invincible Carole Bradshaw had blanched and folded onto her knees like a marionette with its strings cut. She had gone quiet and unresponsive at first. If that wasn’t terrifying enough for a two year old, then there was the way she had screamed and screamed. 

Mom had screamed like she was the heroine in a horror movie facing down the villain. And she hadn’t stopped even when the Navy had come a-knocking. Bradley had climbed a stool and opened the door to the soundtrack of her wails. That’s the sound he hears in his nightmares. That’s why he never wanted to find his soulmate. He’s his father’s son. How could he leave behind a soulmate like his dad left his mom? It’s only inevitable after all.

When his eyes open, it's to a blinding white light. It's almost too bright for sensitive eyes that have been closed for far too long. It's obvious he's missing time, if only in that the last thing he remembers is sirens blaring and voices screaming and flames crackling. Then there had been silence, blessed, complete, silence before he’d seen his parents again.

The hospital room he's in is anything but silent. There are alarms blaring and hurried footsteps and there is the pain throbbing behind his temples. It's far too much, far too soon and it hurts. But he hadn't wanted to stay in limbo with his mom and dad, where everything was cool and quiet and calm. Bradley has a soulmate to find after all, and he’s already spent far too long without her.

It's time to live life like Carole and Goose, like his Mom and Dad, would have wanted him to. He can't be afraid of death, of loss, of pain and sorrow and suffering, not anymore. As his eyes adjust, he's faced with the other reasons why he hadn't stayed asleep. Mav and Ice. They look incredibly worn and old and tired. There are new lines creasing Mav's forehead and a tremble to Ice's hands that he's never seen before.

“Bradley, kiddo, can you hear us?” Bradley can’t do anything other than blink. His entire body feels like it weighs a ton and it takes far too much energy to even blink. But that seems to be enough for Mav and Ice. A tremulous smile curls his dad’s mouth even as tears shine and well in his tired green eyes. Mav folds into the nearest chair, his legs seemingly unable to hold him anymore even as his hand clasps securely around Bradley's own.

"Baby Goose, don't you EVER do that again." If Bradley could talk right now, he would wholeheartedly agree. When his body feels like an open burn and everything stings and aches, there is absolutely no way he would ever willingly do what he did again. The doctors pull his dad away, leaving his Pops in his place. The two of them sit like that for hours, completely still in the midst of the frantic activity that erupts as the doctors and nurses check him out and finally spoon ice chips into his parched desert mouth.

Mav's knocked out on the sofa in the corner before the iceberg his dad has turned into melts. "Bradley Bradshaw. Kid if there was any doubt that you take after your dad, both your dads, that doubt would be wiped away at this moment." Pops smiles, his voice hoarser and deeper than it was when he was a kid. Bradley knows that was the price his Uncle Ice, his Pops, paid for fighting cancer and winning. 

"Why did you do it, kiddo? Why?" There's this unreadable pain in his cool blue eyes as he stares down at Bradley.

"Because she drives me crazy, Ice." His voice is like he's been gargling a bunch of rocks.

"The AMDO Officer? Tinkerbell?" That his dad laughs makes Bradley feel irritated, like a porcupine with its spines out.

"Do you know what happened the last time I found somebody that infuriated me into doing something that stupid?"

It's a rhetorical question. One which prompts a response Bradley has been parroting for most of his life, "You married him?"

His dad's chuckle sounds like pure happiness. "Yeah, kiddo. I married him."

"So why haven't you acted on the reason why she drives you crazy yet?"

Damn him for getting exactly to the root of why this girl bothers him so much. 

"Because as much as she feels like she should be mine, she's not, Pops." His throat visibly tightens at the thought of explaining how confused about Tinkerbell that he actually is.

"She's not my soulmate. She has a soul already and Ice, he's perfect for her. He makes her smile, he takes care of her, and he's never frightened that she's not going to be able to take care of herself or that she's going to get hurt, like I am."

"If you're afraid for her, then that makes it even more likely that she's yours. Kiddo that was how I felt on the Leyte Gulf all those years ago. And how I felt when Mav and your dad went into the flat spin. It feels like your heart is in your throat while at the same time it's in a vice nobody can escape."

That description feels like a punch to the gut.

"But what if I've seen her with her soulmate? What if I know exactly who he is? I have to fly with him, Ice. Work with him. I won't destroy their love when literally anything else, hell even the Navy itself, could." Ice looks thoughtful, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose.

"Who do you think her soulmate is, kiddo? Don't tell your dad, but I can be a rule breaker every once in a while. I can see if her file has a soulmate listed." There has to be a catch right? The last thing Bradley needs is to get into trouble again.

"Seresin. Jake 'Hangman' Seresin." Before Pops can even pull out his phone or make a single call, another all too familiar voice pipes in.

"Baby Goose, there is no way, Tinkerbell's soulmate is Hangman." Mav's voice may be half asleep but it still has all of the infectious energy it always has. "I look at all of your files pretty often. Hangman has a soulmate, but kiddo, it's not Tinkerbell."

"Why else do I feel so attracted to her then, Mav?" Bradley can't keep a hold on everything he's been feeling, not anymore. He lets every sordid bit of the tale spill. From the first electric touch to the dreams and the way he wants to peacock for her.

"It kind of sounds to me like you've found her, Brad. You've found your soulmate, kid." Mav's smiling, green eyes glinting with joy in the midnight light. But the sick feeling in Bradley's chest hasn't gone away. If what his Dad and Pops are saying is true, he's treated Tinkerbell worse than he thought. He's destroyed any hopes of ever having her take him seriously. All because of a misconception? Some miscommunication? 

Mav misreads his grimace of disgust as pain, so it isn't long before his medical team is around again. When he's hopped up on the good painkillers, it feels like there isn't a thing to worry about in all the world. All of his emotions about Tinkerbell get pushed to the wayside over the next few days. First there's the pain and horror at seeing even more scars criss-cross his face when the bandages come off. Then there is the torture of the many, many rounds of physical therapy the doctors put him through.

Each session exhausts his body completely, leaving each muscle as weak as a limp noodle. But if only those sessions did the same for his mind. Since he's been released into his parents loving care, all he's been doing is thinking. About Tink, about his actions to her, about how much he regrets them. Then there were the articles plastered across the internet. The ones that little shit Taylor had spread about Tinkerbell. 

His heart hurts thinking of the pain she must be in. At least she'll have Coyote and Hangman to make sure she's safe. Her brothers. Her best friends. He wishes he could be there too. That he could have stopped Hawk before he started spreading vile rumors. That was his fault too, sadly. If he hadn't been so chicken, for lack of a better term, he would've been able to tell Tink how he felt. Or at least tell her his suspicions before crashing down to earth with his feathers on fire. Now, it’s probably too late. He can try texting Jake to see how she is, right?

What’s the likelihood that he even responds though? If Bradley were in Jake’s shoes, he wouldn’t respond to his best friend’s soulmate, especially not if he’s as big an asshole as Bradley has been. And Bradley’s not sure she’d want to see him either. As if Mav and Ice would let him onto base and out of their range of sight anyways. Hell the two of them have been so overprotective that they haven’t even let Bradley be alone in a room by himself since he was released from the hospital. But he can’t blame them. He has the feeling his mom and Goose would have acted the same way. But they’re smothering and it’s an unintentional relief when Ice drags him onto base with him one day about two months after he woke up. He’s still bandaged up and walking on crutches, but it feels like a breath of fresh air to be on base again. Even lying on the sofa in the corner of Ice’s office on base feels like a new experience today.

Of course, he’s startled out of his dozing state when Pops’ secretary announces two JAG officers into the office.

"Commanders Marks and Greybank. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Pops coughs a little, sipping on some of the tea always present on his desk. “I only wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“Admiral Kazansky, yes.” It's Marks who starts off the debrief and what Bradley hears leaves him reeling. 

“We wanted to speak to you about the incidents on base that occurred three months ago. But before we get started, we are aware that Lieutenant Bradshaw is here, and we wanted to speak to him as well.” It’s a little unwieldy to stand up and take the one remaining chair on crutches, but Bradley’s sure he manages without looking quite as ungraceful as he feels.

“You wanted to speak to me, Commanders?” Bradley’s feeling tense and worried, all of his languid ease dissipated into tension as he settles in for the conversation. 

“Yes. We wanted to confirm what you heard in Hangar Three during the first AMDO inspection that the Lieutenant Commander most commonly known as Tinkerbell presided over.” Bradley’s a little taken aback at the line of questioning, but after exchanging a look with his dad, complies. He lays out the facts as he remembers them, including the look of derision on Hawk’s face as he’d laid into Tinkerbell’s team and Tinkerbell herself. If he takes a bit of joy in describing how she put Hawk back in his place, he’s sure neither his dad nor the commanders will ever mention it. But that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

“In your opinion, did it seem that day like Hawk had formed a grudge against the Lieutenant Commander for being a woman in her position?” Faced with that blunt question, Rooster’s forced to re-examine everything Hawk has done or said in his presence since that day about Tinkerbell.

And he doesn’t like the picture being painted at the moment. “Yes, sir.” His voice is quiet, subdued. 

“Do you hold any ill will towards the Lieutenant Commander, either for her actions that day, or for her actions on the day of your accident?”

He’s blurting the word ‘NO’ out before his mind is even made up. “I do not hold any ill will towards the Lieutenant Commander, sirs.”

He doesn’t miss the telling glances the Commanders share with each other and with Admiral Kazansky, because his Pops is gone, the Admiral taking his place.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, what would you say if we told you that we want to keep Tinkerbell from a court martial and that indeed we’re inclined to proceed with court martial proceedings against Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor?”

“I’d be happy to help in any way I can. Tinkerbell isn’t at fault for what is happening to me. I went against her orders and got into my jet before it was flight-ready. It was not her fault.”

“There, Lieutenant Commander, we are agreed.” It’s Commander Marks who picks up the conversation. “Especially since we have video evidence that it was Hawk who sabotaged your jet.”

Bradley’s brain must shut down because he can’t believe what he’s hearing. That shit! That complete and total utter lily-livered coward! He sabotaged the jet. Hawk’s the reason why he’s in so much pain every day, the kind of pain that even a good night’s sleep can’t occlude? He deserves so much more than a court martial.

“Those news articles about Tinkerbell. Were they his doing as well?” There’s rage descending in a red film over his vision. His already pain-ridden shaky limbs quake with the force of it, silent tremors which he tries to quell by tensing his muscles.

“Yes, it appears so. We’ve been in contact with the news outlets who published those articles. The contracts Lieutenant Junior Grade Taylor signed did not include an anonymity clause. So we have the proof that he is culpable for those as well.”

There is a sick feeling roiling in his gut. It’s fighting with the rage pulsing with every beat of his heart for dominance. He barely realizes what’s happening, because all of a sudden he blinks and Commanders Marks and Greybank are being shown out of the office.

“Hey, kiddo.” 

“Kiddo?”

“Baby Goose!” It’s his childhood nickname at a near shout which shakes him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, Pops?” Bradley can hear the crack in his voice. 

“Are you going to be okay? Testifying against Taylor so soon after your own injuries?” There’s an unreadable look on his face, something trapped between fear and Iceman calm and collected. 

“Whether I’m okay or not, it doesn’t matter, Icepop.” Ice’s smile is halfway to genuine then. “All that matters is that we take that little asshole down before he hurts Tinkerbell further.”

“I agree, kiddo.” His dad sighs, slow and soft. “It’s what I would do if some idiot had been the reason why Mav had been injured. I can’t pretend to know what you’re feeling, but whatever you need, your dad and I are in your corner, yours and hers, no matter what.”

Bradley’s not ashamed in the slightest to find he’s brushing a couple of tears away.

“I have it on good authority that the Daggers are having a bit of a break right now. They should be in the ready room. Why don’t you head over there and catch up with your squad, kid? I’ll text you when I’m ready to head home.”

Bradley slips out of the door soon after, texting Mav to let him know that it looks like Pops has a killer headache if the way he is rubbing his temples is any indication. His progress down the halls of North Island are in direct contrast to any of the other times in his life where he’s positively rocketed down the halls. Usually he’s walking as fast as he can past the Admiral’s offices, because it’s well-known that everyone enlisted is a little bit paranoid around the big brass. Just because his dads are two of the members of the big brass doesn’t change that. 

His progress is halting and slow, the crutches still seem incredibly unwieldy, despite the fact that he’s been using them for months now. He still can’t wait to be away from them. When he finally shoulders the door to the ready room ready, he’s praying that it’s only the Daggers on the premises. He can’t exactly hide the new scars criss-crossing his face, they’re far too evident for that. But while he can take Hangman’s gentle (nearly loving) prodding and Payback’s ribbing, he’s not sure he can handle the less light-hearted, less fun teasing if the Top Gun class is also in the room. As is evident by his luck, or lack thereof, it’s Hawk’s bray-like laughter which greets him as he walks into the room.

He shouldn’t feel like a specimen under the microscope as he walks towards the corner with the big sofa that the Daggers have claimed. But it’s hard to feel like anything but when it feels like everyone in the room has their eyes on him. In that instant, it feels like all of his injuries are worse than they were when he walked into the room. He can almost feel whispering conversations starting up, the ones claiming that “Bradshaw’s flown his last hop, ever. Bradshaw’s been cut down in his prime.”

Of course, the moment the Daggers see him coming, he’s greeted with nothing but smiles. It’s almost too easy to sink into the easy camaraderie he has with his friends. He still feels like he’s being watched, of course, but he can ignore the prying gazes so long as he’s with his friends. Nat’s showing him pictures of what he’s missed, and he’s actually having a nice time, for the first time in what feels like forever. At least, that is, until Hawk comes swaggering up to the sofa where he’s squished between Nat, Bob, Fanboy, and Hangman of all people.

“Well, hi there, Rooster.” He’s exuding smug superiority standing there in his neatly pressed khakis. “I thought you weren’t going to show up on base for a bit longer, old man.”

He’s not deigning this asshole with a response. Not now.

“I mean, I don’t blame you for wanting to come back so soon. I would want to do the same after what that stupid bitch did to me.” Bradley can’t decide if he’s puffing up in anger or if he’s feeling the second-hand rage from Jake at his side. “And let’s be honest, old man. You’re definitely not the spring chicken you were when you got your callsign. I’d take any jump on re-establishing my dominance if I were you.”

Now Rooster can feel Nat’s rage building in addition to his own.

“I’m sure we’re all agreed that the little whore that she is got her comeuppance. She sabotaged you, after all.” 

That’s when Rooster’s tenuous control on his temper snaps. Before Hawk can blink or even gather his thoughts, he’s on the floor. His hand hurts and Hawk’s nose is bleeding. It hadn’t looked all that good earlier, either, still a little bruised and providing a horrible nasal quality to his voice. Hawk wasn’t half the looker he thought he was earlier. 

But of course, just when Rooster thinks Hawk’s finally shut his mouth, he’s back up again. He’s spitting more nonsense about Tinkerbell, hell about Rooster again, But his voice dies down when he has Hangman, Coyote, Payback and Phoenix circling him. Say what you will about the Daggers, but they’re nothing if not family. And you may think that Coyote, Payback and Hangman are scary. But they’ve got nothing on Phoenix. Especially when Rooster can see the idiot’s face blanche at what she whispers into his ear. The court martial proceedings cannot come soon enough.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

 @roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13  @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn  @julesclues @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen  @briseisgone @soulmates8  @meganlpie  @captain-fandomwriter58 @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes  @super-btstrash-posts @eli2447 @chaoticassidy  @kmc1989 @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96  @faithiegirl01  @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @dakotakazansky @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @mak-32 @thedroneranger @beyondthesefourwalls

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #you are my soulmate #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #soulmate!au #miscommunication

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Do you have any good whumpy ideas for an age gap master/student relationship fic? I'm looking to gather some insp and ideas for potential fics to comm from my friends. It's okay if not, so no pressure. love your blog btw! You have some great content, so keep up the good work!

trigger warning for power imbalance, mention of abuse, blackmail, unethical relationship. this is entirely fictional. if you (general you) or anyone you know were / are in an abusive relationship, there is help out there. please stay safe.

I think the most obvious one would be the power imbalance. I don’t know which direction you want your story to go, if you want the master to truly love the student (thus master as caretaker) or if you want the relationship to be manipulative (thus one of them as whumper). but in most cases, assuming this is an adult college student, there will always always be power imbalance here, and obviously the master will always have these powers over their student. and since it’s whump, I hope you don’t mind me assuming student is whumpee and the master is whumper.

some of the ideas I can think of:

whumper developing an unhealthy obsession with whumpee where they have to have whumpee for themself.

whumper is rich, smart, charming, well respected among his peers, so it’s easy for them to trick and manipulate whumpee — who is young and rather naive — into falling in love with them.

does whumper love whumpee? maybe. in their own twisted way. but it’s more of an obsession than it is love.

whumper is sweet and gentle in the beginning of their relationship, before they become more jealous, controlling and abusive, started by preventing whumpee from spending time with their friends and family until whumper is the only person in whumpee’s life, and whumpee is forced to rely on whumper.

whumper threatening to hurt whumpee or send whumpee’s friends and family their intimate photos / videos when whumpee wants to break up.

but in the case where master actually loves their student and isn’t abusive, the whump could still be the misunderstanding or miscommunication that can come into play where there’s an age gap in a relationship, simply because their lifestyles and their thoughts on things are different from each other. that and both student and master will definitely have to keep their relationship private (for obvious reasons). so that could become a problem for them eventually, the having to sneak around and not being able to hold hands in public, etc. it’ll be even worse if master already has a family of their own and is cheating on their partner with their student.

so the whump, in this case, could be the struggle both master and student have to go through. if master does have a family, eventually student can ask them to choose. and I don’t know, maybe master will leave their partner for them, or maybe they won’t, and the one who ends up broken is the student.

or if you want the student to be the whumper in your story, you could have them threaten to tell people about their relationship with master, throw in some accusations, true or false, if master wants to walk away from their relationship. because yeah, the only one who will face the consequences in this situation is the master.

I hope you will find some of these useful. and thank you for sticking around! ♡

#admin answers #tw mention of abuse and manipulation #whump #angst #writer #writing inspo #writing inspiration #writing #writers #whumpblr #writing challenge #whump tropes #whump trope #whump prompt #whump prompts #tropes #trope #prompt #prompts #writing tropes #writing trope #writing prompt #writing prompts #whump community

[genshin-impact-writings]

Hello! I found your blog pretty recently and I really love your take on the characters, so here I am to send my first request. Can I please ask for headcanons where their s/o takes care of them when they're sick? For Childe, Ayato and Xiao, pretty please. ❤️ Take as much time as you need!

Thank you so much, dear anon, both for your request and your kind words. I'm really glad that you enjoy my content so far! <3 I hope you'll like these headcanons as well. Have a great day/night and stay safe. :)

characters: Childe, Xiao, Kamisato Ayato

Taking care of them when they’re sick (HCs)

Childe

Although he always acts really tough and pretends that nothing can ever stop him, Childe can get really whiny when he’s sick. Not immediately, of course, because at first, he’s convinced that something like a cold isn’t enough to get somebody like him down but once he actually starts to feel like absolute garbage, all he wants is someone to take care of him. 

He really tries not to annoy you, at least not on purpose, and he also doesn’t expect you to mother him or anything. However, it’s still amusing to see how this fearless Harbinger turns into a picture of misery when he’s sick, and if you’d want to tease him about it, he wouldn’t even mind because it’s the truth. He’s always asking for cuddles, claiming that your presence is all he needs to get better, but in reality, he just wants you to keep him company for a while. 

Childe loves how considerate you are, even though he’s convinced that you’re annoyed by him at some point. You always make sure that he stays warm enough and won’t hesitate to rush to the pharmacy to get some more meds if he needs them. It makes him fall in love with you even more that you don’t seem to care about catching a cold as well and insist on taking care of him. 

The whole situation is actually a nice change of pace for both of you because usually, you don’t get to spend much time with each other. Now, on the other hand, you can lounge around together for hours, snuggled up against each other and making plans for what you’re going to do once Childe feels better. He insists on taking you on a date as soon as possible to thank you for nursing him back to health.

Xiao

As far as he’s concerned, Yakshas don’t get sick like humans do, hence why he acts like everything is fine, even when he starts to feel so awful that he doesn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. You’ll have a really hard time convincing him to get some rest because he can be incredibly stubborn and therefore insists that he doesn’t need a break. He tells you that it’s absolutely impossible that he caught a cold – only to fall into a fit of coughing just a moment later. 

You won’t hear him complain about his current health state, not even once, but it’s still obvious that he’s feeling awful. It gets even more obvious when he goes back to bed after you tell him to get some sleep without even trying to contradict you. He asks you to keep him company for a while, immediately snuggling up to you and slowly drifting off to sleep in your arms. 

However, after a few hours of sleep, Xiao insists that he’s already feeling better and reassures you that you don’t have to worry about him. His runny nose and coughing fits tell another story, so it’s probably better to prescribe him some more rest. He really appreciates that you take care of him like that but he also has to admit that being sick is the most annoying thing he has ever experienced. 

Should you contract a cold from him, Xiao won’t hesitate to return the favor and take care of you instead. It’s the least he can do after you put up with his stubbornness and bad mood for the past couple of days. However, he probably has to ask Verr Goldet for advice because he has no idea how to take care of someone who’s sick.

Kamisato Ayato

Ayato is someone who always puts his duties and the wellbeing of others before himself. That doesn’t change when he’s starting to feel a bit sick, hence why he’d definitely wouldn’t stop working, no matter how often you tell him to take it slow for a couple of days until he feels better again. 

He insists to at least take care of some paperwork while he’s resting because he just can’t afford slacking off. There are so many people relying on him and he can’t allow himself to let them down simply because he’s currently feeling less than sterling. All of that only makes his cold worse though since he still doesn’t get a whole lot of rest.

It’s definitely not easy to take care of him when he’s sick because he often complains about trivialities, for example when he’s too warm or too cold or when he gets a headache. You know that he’s not really blaming you for anything and that he’s just frustrated because he’s forced to sit around and do nothing when there’s so much he has to take care of. Once he realizes that it’s not fair to take it out on you, he immediately apologizes and keeps these thoughts to himself instead. 

Ayato appreciates that you try to nurse him back to health as quickly as possible, although he’d never expect you to scrap your plans just to stay by his side. It’s not that he’s not happy about your presence or anything; he just doesn’t want you to feel obligated to be around him all the time and keep him company. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback. I'd really appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @the-gayest-sky-kid @stunningstratagem @shanmie @the-fifteen @somemothgoingferal @aphrodicts-imagination

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #xiao x reader #adeptus xiao x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #childe x you #ayato x you #xiao x you

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: April PT. 1

Welcome to April’s recommendation list. Below is the link to take you back to March pt 2 featuring Peaky Blinders, Triple Frontier, Frank Castle, Joel Miller, and the works I posted. The goal for April is to write another chapter In This Heart and rewrite The Spark. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, your stories, or even your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you had a great Easter if you celebrate it!

<< March ‘23 PT. 2 🍀

April ‘23 Pt. 2 🌷 >>

Masterlist

A Different Sort of Man (Moodboard) for @evita-shelby story.

Feel What You Feel (Moodboard + Blurb) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "Perhaps this was the day she fell in love with Tommy Shelby."

Happy Birthday Mr. Pascal (Moodboard)

Invisible String (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?"

It's Ok (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby x Beth | "It’s okay to be not okay."

Secret Garden (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby x Beth | “You saved me, Beth. Perhaps it’s time you allowed me to protect you from whatever demons you allow to darken your beautiful mind.”

Visitor (Moodboard + One-Shot) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | "You will never be alone, Tommy, because I’m always going to be in your heart..."

BLURBS:

I'd Kill For You by @there-goes-thefighter >> John Shelby x f!reader - Summary: John doesn't take too kindly to someone asking the girl he likes out. | This was so fluffy and cute in a Peaky Blinders sort of way.

March Madness Drabble Challenge 2023: DAY 23 by @acewritesfics >> John Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: John cares for his wife and son. | I love reading about John Shelby and his kids.

Obvious by @peakyscillian >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary/Request: 'Giggling about how their friends haven’t found out about them yet even though they’re being so obvious.' | This was very cute. I enjoyed it.

ONE-SHOTS:

Bye Bye Blackbird by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x F!Reader - Summary: Tommy's love interest from before the war leaves for the excitement of the city, but a chance encounter years later finds her disillusioned with all that sparkles. Can he convince her to come home? | Lee does a wonderful job writing something beautiful and sad simultaneously.

How Much I Love You by @runnning-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: (Y/N) takes the opportunity to tell Tommy what she thinks when she finds him still in bed. | Melancholy Tommy to content and in love Tommy, beautiful.

Life is a Cabaret by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy has an iron-clad arrangement with a performer, one of his own making. | Val does such a good job with imagery in this one as well as emotions, leaving you wanting so much more for both Tommy and the reader. Like with most of Val's writing, you don't want to miss this one. It's angsty.

Not Yet by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader - Summary: One of the most difficult days of his life awaits him. He's ready to kill Mosley, but not yet. He's ready to make him pay for his horrible thoughts and crimes, but not yet. For the moment, he is in bed with his wife. Life at your side, it seems to be easier, and he loves that feeling. | Flor's way with words in this is just breathtakingly beautiful. It's a must-read.

Philopator by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader - Summary: When Michael presents his offer to Tommy for a restructuring of the company, he mentions his daughter - after all, she is already involved, even if Tommy doesn’t know it yet. | The emotions are so well written in this, and the tears that I shed while reading. It's a must-read.

*Saltwater Tears by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary/Request: Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father? | So much emotion in this one. I felt the big decision weighing down on me. So good.

ONE-SHOTS:

Stormy Night by @jackfrombaskinrobbins >> Matt Murdock x teen!adopted!reader - Summary: Matt comes home banged up when his teenager should be in bed asleep. | I always thought Matt would make a good Uncle/Dad, and this further proves my idea he would.

An Unexpected Delight by @amhrosina >> Poly!Frank Castle x Reader x Matt Murdock - Summary: Frank wants a taste after Matt tells him how perfectly delicious you are. | Amazing and hot.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

Delicate by @slow-motionlovepotion >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time. | It was so scorching and very well written. I loved it.

Learned Something New by @wheresarizona >> Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader - Summary: Reunion sex with Jack leads to a discovery. | This is just so very hot that I needed a tall glass of cold water to go with it.

Like Real People Do by @tightjeansjavi >> Joel Miller x f!reader - Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie arrive in Jackson for the first time. Joel sees your real smile for the first time in months, all thanks to Jackson’s horses. | This was adorable, and at times Ellie maybe steal the spotlight (in a good way.) I truly did love reading this fluffy piece.

Long Long Night by @toxic-seduction >> Joel Miller x afab!reader - Summary: “I’m not done with you.” or big dick Joel Miller fucks you hard. | 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵 🥵

Nadie Espera un Milagro (No One Expects a Miracle) by @oonajaeadira >> Javier Peña x f!reader - Summary: Sassy, confident, American ex-pat female who finds her parents a little tedious and enjoys both her independence and her job as a high-level admin at the DEA. | Had me falling in love with Javi and how much he cared for the reader and wanted to prove to the reader's parents she could take care of herself.

Need To Know by @ayorooster >> dbf!Joel Miller x afab!reader - Summary: THE FIRST TIME Joel Miller realized how bad he had it for you was on a Saturday night. | It's hot 🥵 and I really enjoyed it.

*Salvatore Pt. 1 to Playing Dangerous by @devilmademewriteit >> Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader - Summary: A secretary with an attitude problem, a DEA agent with an insolence problem. Years ago, you'd stopped hoping for his character to improve, but he's still gunning to set you straight. It’s the worst day of your life, and Javier Peña aims to take advantage of that. | Plot leaves you wanting more and more and so excited there is a second part.

*Playing Dangerous Pt. 2 to Salvatore by @devilmademewriteit >> Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader - Summary: Sure, the fact that he’d schemed up an entire, elaborate ruse to get between your legs was upsetting. More upsetting was the fact that he refused to fess up, insisting that you needed to be protected (or at the very least—cautious) because your life was in ‘grave danger.’ Most upsetting, however? That would be the fact that through it all and above everything else, you still wanted him—badly. | It's a masterpiece. That's the best way to describe this overall.

Still Here by @sl-ut >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel is older than y/n, but that’s never been a concern of hers until very recently. | The number of emotions I went through while reading this one was dozy. I needed tissues. So well written.

Swaddling by @babydin >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: Joel was not a morning person. But the morning after he had spent the night with his cock inside you and woke up fucking you? That day he was definitely a morning person. | Dirty with a dash of cuteness.

TRIPLE FRONTIER:

Erase It by @jake-g-lockley >> Santiago Garcia x reader - Summary/Prompt: they’re teasing each other when one character goes “then kiss me” and is surprised that the other character actually does it. | Can Santiago come take care of me during my periods, please? It's so fluffy and sexy. TW: Period Stuff

Husband Duties by @rayslittlekitten >> Will “Ironhead” Miller x Wife F!reader - Summary: Not being able to fall asleep, you wake your husband up to help with your situation. | Currently wishing I was Will's wife. TW: Pregnancy

WILLIAM DAFOE:

*Heroes by @areyenotfondofmelobster >> Sgt. Elias Grodin x OFC! Alexis Ryder - Summary: He is king, and she is queen. He smokes, and she is mean. Tomorrow, death may take them, but today, they are heroes. A story about love, war, courage, and the duality of man -- inspired by the David Bowie song, "Heroes". | This is a beautifully well-done story.

Just Because 🌻 (Moodboard) by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Modern!Tommy Shelby

Keep Us Safe (Moodboard) by @running-outof-time >> Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader | for @zablife story Keep Us Safe.

Peaky Blinders characters with a daughter who gets her first period by @scorpiussage | I read Alfie’s dialogue in his voice; it was so spot on. I can see Arthur getting all pale. Tommy would stand by and listen to help in the future. So good.

Phantom!Alfie x Christine!Reader (Moodboard) by @raincoffeeandfandoms >> Alfie Solomons x Reader | I'm a huge fan of Phantom of the Opera, so this moodboard is just perfect, especially for Alfie. I think.

@notyour-valentine - Val is a fantastic writer at conveying the tone, setting, and emotions. I often feel like I've stepped inside the piece of writing I'm reading or watched it play out on screen instead of reading it. Not only does she write for Peaky Blinders, but she also writes for House of Dragons.

@cillmequick - Alex is a talented writer who writes for Peaky Blinder's fandom with two main stories. The Lockdown Sessions is a Cillian Murphy series, and Betrayal is a Tommy Shelby story feat. Luca Changretta. Alex recently celebrated 6 months of posting her stories. So, give her stories a read and a follow.

@areyenotfondofmelobster - S brings forth emotions when writing for Adrien Characters and Peaky Blinders, to name her current favorites. I've enjoyed three of her pieces, and they have moved me to tears, and I love it when a writer can do that. Her current series White Ribbon features Luca Changretta.

#tommy shelby #joel miller #peaky blinders #benny miller #midnightswithdearkatytspb #fanfiction recommendation #john shelby #john shelby x reader #tommy shelby x ofc #thomas shelby x ofc #thomas shelby #moodboards #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #joel miller x reader #2023 fic rec #ktk recommendation list #fanfiction rec list #ktk rec '23 #fanfiction recommendation list #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal moodboard #pedro pascal #arthur shelby x ofc #arthur shelby #william dafoe #javi pena x reader #narcos #santiago garcia x reader

[iheartgod175]

Some Thoughts!

Man, I haven’t done a post like this in a while! But I figured I might as well before I work on one of my numerous WIPs XD

—So, I’ve been back on a Zula Patrol kick like you wouldn’t believe. Though that should be obvious with all the memes I’ve been making, haha! I promise this won’t become a Zula Patrol only blog, haha!

—I’ll be working on building my graphic design/editing skills so I can properly redesign my blogs ^^ You can expect a few graphics throughout the month! :)

—Chapter 4 of The Zula Patrol: Dreamscape Crusade Remastered is also coming along pretty nicely. I’ve been enjoying adding the layers of mystery and horror to the world that Multo ends up in. Oh, and a couple of new characters are making their appearance, too. And that’s all I’m going to say about the subject!

—I’ve also been steadily working on Love Language for the last couple of months. I thought FOR SURE that I’d be posting its first chapter by the end of the month, but life happened—not to mention that I keep coming up with MORE headcanons for Multo and Zeeter that I just have to write down and put in the story. XD Also, the story’s grown to the point where I had to break it up into FIVE chapters, now, with the fifth being the actual conclusion. This story’s been so fun to work on, and I hope you’ll all enjoy it when I finally publish it.

—That being said, I did have a few insecurities regarding the writing of Love Language. I wondered if anybody would actually read this story since 1. ZP isn’t a very well-known cartoon, and 2. Even for rarepair standards, Multo/Zeeter sure seems like it came out of left field. And for about a few weeks, I did leave it alone, out of worry that nobody would read it. But then I came across posts in my feed that said that it’s important to write the stories that you’d like to read, even if they don’t get any readership, because telling your story is what matters. I’ve dealt with this a lot since writing all of my stories, namely my Zula Patrol series. And while I struggle with it occasionally, I’m not going to let that whole “nobody will probably read this” mentality stop me from writing about these goofy aliens, and my favorite opposites-attract ship, of which I’m the sole captain.

—While I’ve been working on Blazin’ Trails content off and on, I’m having a deuce of a time trying to work on the final chapter of the original BT. I’ll literally sit down and open the document, looking for something to leap out at me and inspire me to work…but nothing’s working. And I really want to get things started with Blazin’ Trails Redux as well…*sigh*

—As for Super Why stuff, I’m looking forward to seeing the new shorts that are debuting next month! I got to see the first short, and it’s adorable. And I also can’t wait to see more of Power Paige in action! I just really hope that Woofster and Alpha Pig aren’t written out of the show :(

—Speaking of PBS Kids stuff…I kinda sorta got back into both WordGirl and Arthur. GOD, I feel old! And now, I’m half-tempted to have WG guest star in SRBA like Santiago will. The SRBA ‘verse? More like Into the Reader-verse, LOL XD

—Sodor Magic Crusaders MAY be getting an update in the near future. I thought about working on it for the first time in months, and I remembered that I only have a few episodes left until I can get to write the second season.

—Slowly but surely getting back into Honkai Impact 3rd. I still haven’t gotten a chance to watch the part 2 trailer, but it looks like it’s gonna be interesting!

—One thing’s for sure. Power Paige will definitely appear in the SRBA ‘verse. I just have to figure out what her backstory would be as well as her powers and what kind of fighting style she’d have. I know for sure it won’t be a sword—we already have four sword fighters in SRBA thus far (Super Why, Presto, Muse and Jackson).

—In Super Why news, I HAVE been working on the fifth chapter bit by bit, and I’d like to say that it’s about 65% finished. I don’t think it’ll be quite as long as the last update, but I don’t want to speak too soon ^^;

—I haven’t drawn anime in ages, not since I first started uploading on DeviantArt. And I admit, the pic that I’m going to post of Usagi isn’t the best..but you know what? Screw it! The only way I can improve is to practice, even if it’s wonky or incorrect! ^^

#hanna-barbera #the zula patrol #super why #sailor moon #pbs kids #ramblings

[beautifulpersonpeach]

bpp sorry if this isn't the content you want on your blog after yesterday but is it ok if i ask for clarification on sth? i know youre army you don't like solos but i like reading solos for a wide span of info. i don't like to be in a bubble of echo chambers

i saw a post and i'll send the link right after this ask but the person was criticizing a post you made but it confused me bc what you wrote didnt match what they said. they didn't post your name but i know its you because you always start your answers with 3 dots

***

many armys say they like jimin but they pretend. i don't think youre like that but your answer is confusing so can you clarify? its like you allow jjks to shit on jimin but you drag out pjms only. armys do this over and over. its sad if youre the same bc i like your blog.

***

Please block me.

Actually, you know what? Don't. At least not just yet. Let's do this instead.

I checked the link you sent. I'd received that link a couple other times today accompanied with more hostile language, so I ignored it. But I checked out yours because I wondered what was so serious you couldn't add the link to your main ask, so if you're all in fact the same person sending that link, kudos for getting my attention.

And thank you for sending that to me, because now I'd like to use you and that post to make an example of what I'm talking about when I say solo stans think differently and are just less intelligent. In my opinion.

For other readers, I'm not going to link it directly so as to not draw more attention to them, and since they're stalking my blog to make an example without directly mentioning me or showing my blog name, I think it's only fair I react in kind by also not making a direct mention.

Here’s the post (mine) in question:

*

Here is the akgae's takeaway from the post above (mine):

**

Already, the dissonance between the first and second screenshot should be obvious. I’ll explain in any case just so everyone can follow along.

Shortly after Jimin released Closer Than This, I received an ask from someone who calls themselves a PJM (a Jimin akgae), who said they hate the song and also hate his voice. But that they are his solo stan because he’s “talented and hot”.

I responded that they, the Jimin solo stan who hates his ARMY song and voice, isn’t exactly a rare breed. And that Jimin has ARMY supporting him anyway. This is within the context of me always saying solo stans don’t actually like the person they choose to solo stan (if they did, they wouldn’t be akgaes), and that an akgae’s experience is more about them and their personal insecurities than anything Jimin (or any other BTS member) is actually doing.

Months later (present day), another Jimin solo stan quotes that ask and my response, as proof of me (1) going “sameee you’re so valid”, (2) not correctly identifying that person as someone who actually antis Jimin a.k.a. his akgae, and (3) as proof of me believing “one is more talented and more deserving than the other” re: Jungkook vs Jimin.

…is there even anything more for me to say?

Y'all, I bet you something like 90% of the shit that has solos constantly bouncing off the walls starts from things like this: a complete lack of reading comprehension coupled with gaps in logic and pre-conceived notions/insecurities. If I wanted to be really mean, there's so many places I could take this post right now, but I'll stop here for now.

That post made me laugh because the entire thing is a comedy of errors. The OP Anon in that akgae's post, is actually talking about another 'blogger' (who I know and generally like but that's besides the point), but the akgae responding to them mistook OP Anon's 'blogger' to be me, and then proceeded to write what's in the second screenshot...

It's just sad.

I've lost count of how many times I've been the subject of callout posts on Tumblr and each time it's been something like this lmaooo. Each time it's been by akgaes (and their exile varieties) and shippers. The last time this happened, I was a taekooker, and now someone has essentially embarrassed themselves with a lamentable lack of reading comprehension to spin a pretty innocuous post into... alladat.

This is how drama is manufactured in fan spaces out of plain stupidity.

*

There are many reasons I don't like akgaes, but one top reason is because they dumb down the quality of conversation in whatever space they're in. It's part of why I have such a disdain for 'discourse' in k-pop spaces in general, because oftentimes, the people most eager to write paragraphs on end while being hateful and/or victimizing, are people who don't know what they're talking about or lack basic skills in reading comprehension, among other things. ARMYs and k-pop stans are guilty of this too, but you're more likely to run into culprits in akgae 'discourse' spaces or adjacent ones.

I've given examples of this many times but here's a couple here, and here.

I'm not even trying to be condescending, I don't actually think I know all there is to know about Jimin, BTS, and k-pop, I just no longer have the patience for people who choose remain in spaces filled with akgaes and who keep bringing their nonsense into my inbox. And what's worse asking me to clarify sentences that a grade 5 student should be able to parse in any language.

Anyway Anon, now, you can block me.

[autistic-sidon]

hii can i ask to hear the explanation of why you think sid/link is distasteful? i dislike the ship myself but i’ve never really met anyone else who isn’t super obsessed with it but likes sidon so this blog feels super relieving!!!

So I’m gonna have to word certain things weirdly to avoid the face eating leopards that might come after me when express my opinion on a fictional ship so bear with me here.

My distaste comes down to these three reasons:

1. Age

2. Context

3. Content

First one being age. Zoras age pretty weird. A lot of people somehow misunderstand how the aging works even though it’s simple despite being weird. They simply spend more time in each life stage, but some people for some reason think a 50~ year old Mipha is a pedophile for liking Link even though she’s also a teenager. I digress, as that’s a separate issue. There is dialogue in botw from the character Dunma that makes it clear that Zoras will be physically adults before the age of 100 (but 100 is a wisdom milestone!) The way you can equate this to human ages is the late teens and early 20s, where you’re grown for the most part, but your brain still has some developing to do. That is the age Dunma is at, and a reminder that she is under 100. I don’t have screenshots on what Dunma says on hand, but this post might, and it explains the aging overall as well.

Sidon is over 100, so my guys prefrontal cortex is already developed. The human prefrontal cortex is not fully developed until 25! Which means Sidon is probably the Zoran equivalent of his mid or even late 20. I’m hoping the issue with that is starting to become clear.

Link came out of the shrine of resurrection under the legal drinking age. Remember, in botw Link is not allowed to have a noble pursuit like he is in totk. So, he was probably 18 or 17, possibly 19 when he died to the calamity. He could not have been younger than 17, as he joined Zelda on Mount Lanayru.

So, even if Link was 18 when he met Sidon (met him again…we’ll get there…) I am telling you that dating what is the equivalent of a 25~ year old as an 18 year old is not only creepy, but incredibly dangerous and unbalanced in the real world. And if Link was 17 in botw then it’s pretty obvious why the ship sucks in respect to age.

And people more commonly point out that Link knew Sidon when he was a toddler. I agree this also makes it weird. They didn’t really remember each other, which people argue, however Sidon does remember the swordsman, he just didn’t remember the swordsman was Link.

To finish off the age issue, I know some will say that the totk time-skip makes it okay…except it really doesn’t because that’s like waiting until someone is legal until you hit on them…which is weird and looked down upon irl so I’m not sure why you guys think the King of the Zora would pull that shit.

Next is context. This refers to the story in botw, specifically the backstory. Link remembers nothing, but discovers that he was super close to being engaged to Mipha, who was his childhood friend. I’m not sure why more people don’t point this out, but I really really really don’t think Sidon is going to get in a romantic relationship with his dead sisters almost fiancé. This reason is particularly why I giggle when people say Sidon was queerbait…because the writing does not allow for si/dlink to be appropriate at all. Sidon values Mipha a lot, and certainly would not go after Link even if he did have feelings, because doing so would be disrespectful to her and also a bit gross. Like if I died and my sisters went after my partner I’d think it’s gross, and my family would probably think it’s gross, a lot of people would think that’s gross.

To continue with context, and this one is more of an opinion, I really really don’t think that Sidon and especially Link, have feelings for each other. People made the new statue in the domain sexual (You know…the statue that was probably commissioned by Dorephan aka Link and Sidon’s Dad basically…please use your brain and recognize why saying they’re “riding” each other is weird…) as well as Sidon’s sage vow to Link (the one that all the other sages make too, including Tulin who is literally a child are you saying Link got proposed to by a child…huh??) Honestly watching people pick up scraps and say it’s romantic is a little funny to me, as I feel like this is really just platonic or brotherly, especially since DLC dialogue in botw has Sidon almost call Link his brother. Also I think they’re easier to write good stories about when they’re not romantic.

That transitions into my final reason, which is content. Si/dlink content is objectively bad all around and I mean that in the nicest way possible. Even the most well written of fics have an underlying sense of, “What the fuck is Link doing at Zora’s domain for so long?” And make Sidon and Link’s development overly dependent on each other. Just a reminder, romance is kinda fucking boring if there are no steaks outside of the relationship, or the stakes only matter because of the relationship.

If it’s not a mediocrely written fic, it’s probably just straight up porn. Which I can’t speak too much on this, but I think it’d odd to sexualize mlm to the degree that people did in 2017 and are starting to do again now. Also, people tend to either infantilize either Sidon or Link, and one of the character has to be the other’s therapist. This should be more recognized as an issue because of the fact that Link and Sidon are completely and utterly neurodivergent coded.

The content also completely decimates Sidon’s character. He basically becomes this hollow shell who only talks about Link and only thinks about Link and holy fuck doesn’t this literal King have things to think about that are not Link?? It’s very painful, as a si/dlink hating Sidon fan, to never ever come across character analysis because people cannot detach Sidon’s character from Link for even two seconds. Like I get that it’s super easy to read Sidon’s friendliness to Link as something homoerotic, but have you also considered that Link is literally his best friend and basically his brother. Bonus points if you recognize Link and Sidon are both neurodivergent coded and probably have that type of alliance and understanding going on.

Like I genuinely think Sidon is easier to write as Link’s friend or like as a platonic/brotherly thing. Especially since Link has his whole thing going on with Zelda and Sidon has his whole thing going on with Yona. And for gods sake yes I know polyamory exists, but I know y’all don’t actually ship all those characters, Yona would get the short end of the stick in character because you just want your yaoi to not look misogynistic. And Zelda usually isn’t even taken into consideration even though all of Link’s time before the upheval was spent with her so it’s still a little bit misogynistic anyways. (Note that when I say it’s misogynistic, I do recognize that it’s typically not malicious or even intentional, you can still be misogynistic on accident.) That’s not even mentioning the fact that Yona barely knows Link, and I genuinely don’t think she’d be comfortable with a sudden poly relationship. Poly doesn’t mean zero boundaries…people yelling “Sidon has two hands!” Don’t really understand polyamory and how it works. People generally don’t get in a serious poly relationship with complete strangers.

I could say more, but if I do then it’ll get to the point where the face eating leopards will come after me, so I hope this is enough. I really just think the ship exists because people are attracted to Sidon (valid) and use Link as a sort of self insert (botw/totk Link is not completely a self insert, as he has his own story and character beyond the player.) Anyways that is pretty much my opinion, thank you for asking nicely anon and everyone else pretty please do not send nukes to my house.

#loz botw #loz totk #sidon #LC answers #anonymous #do I tag this as discussion?? idk

[thelanders23]

Hey y’all! I’ve been getting questions about my blog for a bit now. Some of them are extremely nice and genuinely curious to know my thought process behind my blog. Why I started it or my inspiration for it. As I hate to admit, there really wasn’t a ton of thought process behind it y’all. I just wanted to share my experience playing The Sims how I always had.

I’ve been playing The Sims now for about 12-13 years. I’m big on family let’s plays and legacies. I’ve always played as realistically as possible. As y’all probably know, that requires mods. I have a lot of gameplay mods to make The Sims as realistic as possible. That also means that I play with a ton of CC and the only thing I’m ever strictly Maxis Match on is hair.

I initially just wanted to take some pictures for my game. I wanted my Sims to have actual family photos on the wall. Ya know, make their homes more homey. When I started taking the photos it reminded me of a creator who used to do this same kind of content for her tumblr. I was hooked on every update she’d post about her little Sims family. For the life of me, I can’t remember that creator’s name. God knows it’s been forever and 3 Tumblr accounts later ;) But in remembering that, I found something I love to share. I’ve always been quiet in The Sims community. I’m not good at making CC, believe me I’ve tried. But for some reason, I’m good at capturing in-game images of sims ‘realistic’ lives. So that’s what I started doing.

Although I play at a slow (for The Sims) but sped up pace, you’ll often see me posting year-round content. Christmas posts could be posted in June or summer posts in winter, if you’re catching my drift. It just depends what my Sims are doing at the time. I post pretty frequently, most of the time I’ll post multiple updates in one day and then take a few days as a break. So you won’t ever have to wait too long for content. I will take breaks every now and then when playing but that’s so I don’t ever get bored with my save file. Those breaks will be announced.

The Lander’s were an obvious choice in who I’d pick for the family that the blog is set around. They’re my favorite. I played with Lyle and Haidyn for about 4 months before starting this account. So it’s officially been over a year of playing on this save file. Something about them made me find the reason I fell in love with The Sims in the first place. Yeah they’re your typical little family, but I think that’s why I love them. I grew up with families just like the Lander’s. I think in a weird way, they comfort my soul.

For those asking for more details of who I am behind the screen, I find sharing small information is really all you need. I’m 22F and I’m from TX, USA. But I bet y’all already read that in the bio :)

I’m married and yes, just like Haidyn, I’m in the nursing career. My husband isn’t quite the nerd I am but he’s pretty interested in how I do all of this. Yes, he knows about my Tumblr, and no, he doesn’t think it’s weird. Truth is, I’m pretty boring. There’s nothing really fancy here folks.

I do appreciate all the questions, likes, reblogs and genuine conversations I’ve had while being active in this community and space. My hope is to continue to do this until I really don’t have the time to. Which I don’t see happening in the foreseeable future since I’m PRN at work and have lots of free time on my hands :) As long as y’all keep loving my content, I’ll keep sharing it the same way. I know this type of content is not for everyone in this community but I’m thankful to those who do like it. I think that’s what makes this community so special and unique. Everyone who plays The Sims plays it differently and I love that 🩵

#sims 4 #sims 4 community #sims4realistic #sims 4 gameplay #my sims #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 creator #sims4 stories #sims4 simblr #sims 4 save file

[cha-melodius]

Hiii, congratulations on your milestones! I am not very good at prompts buuuut how about Napollya + some creepy abandoned house? Or a cemetery. Idk, it's not Halloween but I'm feeling spooky loool Feel free to go paranormal with it <3

(Outsmarted tumblr to answer this lmao. You said go paranormal and my brain said 'what about rival paranormal investigators??' Mark this down as another AU concept I never thought I'd write. Hope you enjoy it!)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

The Harrowed and the Haunted

(napollya, 2.7k, T; read it below or on AO3)

The tiny blue car is already there when they arrive, tucked off to one side of the gigantic, decrepit mansion, and Napoleon swears under his breath.

“How did he even know we were coming here?” he complains. “No one knows this place.”

“Everyone knows about this place, Solo,” Gaby sighs from the passenger seat. “It’s a local legend. And you weren’t exactly subtle when you teased it as our next location in the podcast.”

Napoleon twists in his seat to look at her. “You think he listens to the podcast?”

She levels a look at him that he doesn’t know how to interpret. “You two are hopeless,” she says instead of answering him, then unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car.

She’s already elbows deep into the equipment by the time he walks to the back end of the car, so he elects not to push her on what she means. Besides, the one time he’d tried, she ended up on some long tirade about how they’re obsessed with each other and it would be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating and also if she didn’t have to listen to him all the time. To which he had responded that she’s his best friend and morally obligated to listen to him complain about his nemesis.

Also, he’s not obsessed with Illya Kuryakin.

Yes, Napoleon watches all the videos Illya posts and reads all the stories he publishes on his blog. Of course he does, Illya is the competition. Napoleon has to keep up with the locations he’s visiting and the kinds of footage he’s getting so that he knows how best to make his own superior content. Because Napoleon has a secret weapon that means his videos are always in better resolution, with wider shots so you can see that he’s not just using tricks, and his data are more robust. That secret weapon is Gaby and the completely bonkers ghost detecting equipment that she builds.

Napoleon had been a skeptic when he started doing paranormal investigation; his whole schtick was proving that there weren’t ghosts in the places where the other guys had recorded their sightings. Then he’d met Gaby at a convention and she’d bet him fifty bucks that she could show him a site that not only had ghosts, but also that she could prove it with hard science. He’d been intrigued despite himself, and their partnership was born. The friendship came about fifteen minutes into that first trip, when it became obvious that they shared a similarly sarcastic, dark sense of humor and brutally pragmatic outlook on life.

Together, they still spend the majority of their time proving that locations aren’t haunted, but occasionally things happen neither of them can explain. Not that he’s convinced that the explanation is actually ghosts, but it’s certainly something outside the realm of known science. With Gaby’s help, his business really took off: there’s the YouTube channel that he started with, but now they have a wildly successful podcast as well. The Discovery Channel has made overtures about a show. Things are good.

At least they are when Illya Kuryakin isn’t around.

Illya came out of nowhere with his blog Prizraki and a fledgling YouTube channel of his own. He shouldn’t have ever drawn an audience because he has zero camera presence, for all his good looks. He’s not even in his own videos all that much since he’s a one-man operation. But. The man can write. The way he crafts a story, the sheer atmosphere of it—he more than makes up for the shoddy camerawork and rudimentary editing. Napoleon had thought his work would be easy to discredit, but Illya is thorough. Meticulous. Irritating, especially when he anticipates Napoleon’s next move and makes it his job that much harder. Napoleon would swear Illya has it out for him specifically.

So yeah, they don’t get along. Their rivalry is well-known among the paranormal investigation community at this point. And if he spends an inordinate amount of time following Illya’s content, it’s only because he has to, professionally. He certainly doesn’t enjoy it.

They find the man himself on the second floor, apparently scanning one of the rear bedrooms. He’s hunched over his device, which is emitting a random-sounding beeping as he moves slowly across the room. Napoleon and Gaby had been led there by the readouts on their own equipment, although things start going all funny once they get into the room. Napoleon is pretty sure it’s just the interference from Illya’s shitty gear.

“Got tired of coming up with your own ideas, Peril?” Napoleon says as they walk in, the ancient floorboards creaking under their feet.

Illya doesn’t bother to look away from his scan. “Don’t know what you are talking about,” he mutters. He finishes a sweep of the far wall and pauses. “I have plans to investigate this property for months. Check my website if you don’t believe me.”

Napoleon doesn’t, because he’s read every word of that blog and he never mentioned this property. Not that he’s going to tell Illya this.

His nemesis finally straightens and turns toward them, his usual sour expression somehow failing to keep him from being ridiculously, irritatingly gorgeous. Napoleon would wager that at least half of his subscribers are only there for the occasional eye candy. And look, Napoleon knows his own looks bring him hits—leverages it, specifically—but Illya pretends to be above all that, which is annoying. After all, his numbers had shot up rapidly after that one video where he’d somehow ended up shirtless while investigating some kind of haunted bog (and if Napoleon had watched that one any more than the others, it was only because he couldn’t get over the idea of a haunted bog, that’s all).

“I take it you haven’t found anything yet,” Napoleon counters, looking around the room. It’s largely empty at this point, save for a massive wardrobe that’s probably too heavy to move, the florid wallpaper faded and yellowed by time and marked by no small amount of water damage. “Not that I fault you for that, given your equipment.”

“I have found plenty—”

“Solo,” Gaby interrupts. She’s across the room, and when he turns to look she’s tucking her own scanner away and sliding a hand over the seemingly featureless wall. “I think there’s something here.”

Jackpot. Napoleon quickly crosses over to where she stands and starts carefully inspecting the wallpaper, his competitor all but forgotten behind them. Well, almost. The seam is well hidden, but it’s there, and Napoleon feels out the secret panel within minutes. When a door pops open, he turns back toward Illya and smirks with immense satisfaction.

“What was that about finding things?”

Illya just about growls at him.

“Look, while you two have this little pissing contest, I’m gonna go get my auxiliary power block,” Gaby announces before they can get going again. “There are some really wacky readings going on here and I think I’m going to need the boost.”

With that, she disappears out the door, and a moment later they can hear the clunk of her boots on the wooden steps.

“So, you are planning on leaving, right?” Napoleon asks.

“I was here first,” Illya grits out, and then the asshole just storms right past Napoleon and into the secret passageway, like he has any right to it.

Napoleon follows him, because he can’t not. The passage is narrow, barely wider than the span of either of their shoulders, and nearly pitch black save for the illumination provided by their flashlights and the meager light that filters in from the main room. The house is enough of a labyrinth that it could go almost anywhere; it’s promising, for sure.

“Only because you knew we were coming here,” Napoleon calls after him.

Illya stops a short ways down the passage and turns to glare at him. “You cannot prove that.”

“And we found the secret passage,” Napoleon continues. “If we weren’t here you’d still be going around in circles, chasing your own tail.”

“The discovery was inevitable. Maybe you sped it along, but now you are just in the way.”

Jesus Christ, this is going nowhere. Fine, Napoleon can be the magnanimous one, especially if he can use it later to argue that Illya was unreasonable. “Look, you wanna investigate right now, be my guest, but you can’t be here when Gaby gets back. Your equipment causes too much interference.”

Illya hesitates a beat. “She said you were getting strange readings. What kind?”

“Like I’m going to tell you,” Napoleon scoffs.

“Did you have to learn to be this much of an asshole, or were you born this way?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who—”

He doesn’t get to finish that thought, because suddenly it sounds like every door in the house slams at once, including the one to the bedroom that they’d left open. They both jump a mile, startled out of their skins, and Napoleon whirls to look behind him, though of course there’s nothing there.

“Wind gust?” he tries weakly.

He doesn’t even blame Illya for the exasperated look he gets in response. They both know there hadn’t been even a light breeze, plus, he can feel it. Illya probably can too. There’s something about the atmosphere that makes his skin crawl and his hair stand up on end, and as a professional ghost hunter, that’s not easy to do. He’s learned to trust his gut, and it’s telling him something is definitely hinky here. He walks back over to the door, but there’s no handle on the inside, which seems like poor design for a secret passageway.

“Not getting out this way,” he tells Illya. “Maybe the other side?”

“We don’t know where it goes,” Illya counters. “Should we not just wait for Gaby to return?”

He’s got a point, but Napoleon really doesn’t like being cooped up in here. He’s not claustrophobic, but there’s a closeness to the air that goes beyond what can be explained by the narrow space. Not that he’s going to let on what’s driving his decision.

“Wait if you like,” he says with a shrug. “I’m going to do what I came here to do.”

Except Illya is standing between him and the rest of the passage, which is really not large enough for the two of them to easily pass by each other. Still, there’s nothing for it; Napoleon starts walking toward him, assuming Illya will get out of the way, only when he’s less than a stride from the other man, he trips.

He’d like to pretend the floorboards were uneven, but it feels like something fucking winds around his ankle, effectively binding his legs and sending him sprawling into Illya. At nearly the same time, there’s a loud pop and the bulbs in both of their flashlights just about explode in a shower of sparks. The end result is that Illya is too surprised or too distracted to stay upright himself, and they tumble to the ground in a heap with none-too-few curses in both English and Russian.

“Get off of me,” Illya protests, trying to shove Napoleon away, and Napoleon would like to, truly, but one of Illya’s elbows caught him in the diaphragm and he can’t exactly breathe at the moment.

“Gimme a fucking minute,” he manages, trying to catch his breath while simultaneously ignoring how he’s managed to land pretty much astride one of Illya’s very muscular thighs. There’s not exactly a lot of room here for him to maneuver, anyway, and in the pitch dark the very last thing he wants to do is put a hand somewhere it shouldn’t go. He manages to fish his phone out of his pocket, hoping for an alternative light source, only to find it won’t turn on. “Damn. Phone’s dead.”

“Think it was an EMP,” Illya groans. “Will knock out—”

“I know what an EMP is,” Napoleon snaps, then he sighs heavily. “I don’t suppose you have a lighter?”

Illya doesn’t answer, but a moment later there’s a faint snick and a small flame flickers to life, washing the two of them and the passageway in a faint orange glow. It also reveals the deep scowl on Illya’s face. “Now will you get off?”

“Aw, but I was just starting to enjoy myself,” Napoleon teases. And then, because he can’t resist an opportunity to fluster the other man in any way possible, he gives his hips a little wiggle. 

Something flashes in Illya’s gaze, though he can’t quite read it in the flickering light. “Do not start something you do not intend to finish, Cowboy,” he growls.

Which is— Napoleon cannot have heard that right. He hit his head on the way down, maybe, except for the fact that he knows he didn’t; he landed on Illya’s ample chest, which he still hasn’t really moved from. Their faces are no more than a handful of inches apart. Illya takes a deep breath in and out under him, and the thigh between Napoleon’s shifts slightly. Napoleon licks his lips, and Illya’s eyes follow the movement.

“Who says I don’t?” Napoleon manages, his voice tighter than he’d like. “And what about you? I thought you hated me.”

“Too pretty,” Illya murmurs. “Annoyingly so. Anyway, you hated me first.”

Napoleon can’t help the soft puff of laughter that escapes him. “Gaby says I’m obsessed with you.”

“Is that so?” Illya asks with a smirk that Napoleon would kind of like to bite.

“I’m not,” Napoleon protests, but he doesn’t get a chance to get any more out because Illya tugs him down into a kiss.

Napoleon shocks himself by kissing him back, tilting his head until their mouths fit perfectly together, letting his arms go out from under him until his body is fully pressed up against Illya’s again. It’s hard and it’s fast and it’s filthy, and Napoleon can’t get enough of it. Illya’s hands go to his waist then slide down to his ass, which he grabs enthusiastically, pulling Napoleon’s hips closer as his rock up against Napoleon’s thigh.

He never thought— never let himself think— Fuck. He wants Illya Kuryakin so badly he can hardly breathe, which is a pretty fucking novel revelation right about now. He doesn’t even notice that Illya has dropped the lighter, plunging them into darkness, until there’s a loud creak outside the passageway and the door rattles in its frame.

They startle apart, or at least try to; Napoleon attempts a roll sideways, but there’s not really any place to go, so he just kind of ends up jammed next to Illya, his heart climbing into his throat because he’d maybe gotten so caught up in the moment that he’d forgotten that they’re in a fucking abandoned house that supposedly haunted, with actual weird phenomena happening around them, and he’d really rather not die—

The door rattles again, then swings open to reveal Gaby holding a lantern in one hand and her bag of equipment in the other. She takes one look at them and her eyebrows climb all the way up to her hair.

“Oh, thank god,” Napoleon exhales heavily. “You didn’t get hit by the EMP?”

Gaby frowns at him. “What EMP?”

“The one that exploded our flashlights and turned our phones into bricks.”

“That’s not how EMPs work,” she says flatly. “Care to explain how that relates to… literally any of this?”

Napoleon winces. “Not really?”

The look she gives him quite clearly says that he’s not getting out of any part of said explanation, even if she’s willing to let it go for the moment. “So. Ghosts?”

“Apparently so,” Napoleon groans as he attempts to extract himself now that he can actually see where he’s going.

“And we’re… collaborating?” she asks, looking pointedly at Illya.

Napoleon glances over to find Illya staring at him uncertainly, which is probably fair considering they’ve discussed precisely nothing about this. Still. He looks back at Gaby.

“Apparently so.”

~~~~~

(The Haunting of McAllister Mansion is their first joint video, published simultaneously on both channels; it breaks all their previous records for views, likes, and comments.

The latter are split between people confused because they were sure Napoleon and Illya hated each other, and those who just comment: called it.)

#napollya #napoleon x illya #tmfu #the man from uncle #the man from u.n.c.l.e. #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #tmfu fic #tmfu fanfic #napollya fic #napollya fanfic #chamel's fandom fest #my fic

[saaraofthesand]

My Thoughts on The Sun and The Star.

I’ve organized my thoughts into some lists. Enjoy.

I polled my followers and they said they wanted this so you can’t get mad at me.

I must first emphasize that at 20 years old, I’m hardly this book’s target audience. I am fully aware of that.

Second, this book is fine. It’s not bad, it’s not insulting to queer people, but it’s also not the most interesting work of fiction I’ve ever read.

Third, I never finished the Trials of Apollo. I don’t think it hugely affected my reading experience with this one as I’d read all 10 of the other books and could use context clues for anything I didn’t know about. But I thought I should mention it.

Fourth, a lot of my problems with this book have also been present in all of Rick Riordan’s books post-pjo. So, these aren’t new.

Fifth, I went into this book with basically zero expectations. I’m not active in the pjo fandom (this is an anime blog), so I wasn’t seeing the book hyped up or anything. Before this, I’d basically only talked about it with my family and friends. I also don’t really read pjo fanfics. I have because I’ve gotten curious before, but I haven’t read enough to know about general fanon interpretations of characters.

Okay,

Nico has been my favorite PJO character since I was a kid (yes I grew up gay with abandonment issues shut up), so I was excited for this book.

The queerness is well done. There isn’t any “othering” of Nico, Will, or their relationship due to their queerness.

We got Italian! Nico moments, which I’ve been wanting more of since forever, so I’m happy about that. They did an okay job rounding out Will’s character. And Nico and Will’s relationship got a lot of good exposition (even if I felt that they were unrealistically mature about it). Nico’s experiences with homophobia felt very real.

Okay, now on to my critics:

Without a doubt my biggest criticism of this book is that it is very clearly fanservice. It doesn’t exist because it has a story to tell. It exists because fans wanted more Nico and Will content.

I didn’t like that the book was written from third person. I had this same critic of the Heroes of Olympus books. Rick Riordan’s strength has always been first person POVs, starting with the original PJO series. I feel like the funny chapter names, the breaking of the fourth wall, the sidebars, etc. are the reason that Rick’s prose stands out. A first person perspective is the reason the books are as funny as they are. And this book lacked that spark.

The choice to write from third person is part of what contributes to the fanfiction-esque writing style of this book. As someone who both reads and writes fanfiction, I can tell you that almost all fanfics are written from third person. This is because, for the most part, the characters you’re writing are not your own. First person is way too intimate a POV for that type of writing, and it’s why most fanfic authors don’t use it. That’s what I feel like is happening here. Oshiro is writing characters that aren’t theirs, and that means they can’t bring the intimacy of a first person POV or even a more intimate third person POV.

The book is also very on the nose with its themes and ideas. Generally, this is fine in this type of literature. This is a piece of middle-grade fiction. The target audience is middle schoolers. But also, middle schoolers can pick up on subtext. They’re young, not illiterate. There was far too much telling when they were already showing.

A good example is the title of the book. It’s very clear that “The Sun” is Will and “The Star” is Nico. I assumed that before I even opened the book. That imagery is incredibly obvious, so the authors don’t need to state it in the text. But… they do. Bob refers to Will and Nico as “My sun and star.” It was one of the moments in the book that really made me cringe.

The book has major pacing issues and is too long. I felt like it was going on forever. There were full scenes and segments that I think could’ve been cut without affecting the plot.

This book really put on display that even though Will and Nico work as boyfriends, they don’t work as partners. This contrasts Percy and Annabeth, who do work really well together since they were partners first. But Nico and Will are so bad at working together that their quest dynamic isn’t fun.

Generally, I don’t love the characterization in this book.

Nico and Will are supposed to be on this dark, dangerous quest. One so horrible no one would ever want to undertake it. It’s the House of Hades (Nyx’s Version). Except it really isn’t. It felt like they wanted to make it more psychological than the previous books, but they also weren’t totally willing to commit to everything that would entail.

Despite all the fluff in the book, it takes itself just a little too seriously. Nico and Will are 15-16. I feel like they could have had more fun with it while still tackling darker themes. Again, I know Riordan is capable of this because *gestures at the original PJO books*

Nico and Will have this weirdly mature outlook on their relationship that doesn’t fit their ages.

We don’t get PJO-esque jokes until 80% of the way through the book (yes, I kept track). There’s the “Travel Brochure” joke and the “Saturday Sundae” joke during the Nyx confrontation. Both of which invoked the feeling of reading the original Percy Jackson books. I got really excited.

Immediately after those jokes this became one of the cringiest books I’ve ever read. And I do not care to elaborate on that because I’m just happy that the book is over at this point.

Lastly, I wasn’t sure where to put this, but I read it, so now, you have to too. “‘Will, he said it has to be both of us,’ said Nico. Will hesitated at first, but an epiphany dawned in him, and his eyes went wide. ‘Together,’ he said.” After reading this, I immediately recoiled in disgust and went “UGH!” And there are multiple lines like this in the book. Absolutely horrible -7563/10. Rick, never allow another sentence like that into one of your books again. This isn’t YA. You can’t be throwing lines like that at me out of nowhere.

In conclusion:

I’ve seen people saying the criticisms of this book are the result of homophobia and… y’all no they aren’t. Most of the people I’ve seen criticizing the book are queer, including me! I’m tired of this idea that queer people just have to appreciate whatever representation they’re given without having any criticisms about it because at least it’s something. No! If Nico and Will were a straight couple, I’d still have the exact same critics of this book. I’m gay and it’s my godgiven right to dislike books that focus on gay people if the stories aren’t good.

Something that I do think is sad here is that Oshiro’s name is now on this substandard book forever. They’re a new author, and they don’t deserve that. Rick Riordan will be fine if this book isn’t received well, but Oshiro is less likely to be. That upsets me deeply as a queer writer myself. That sucks. I hate that. Go check out their books instead of this one tbh.

#okay you can yell at me now #the sun and the star #pjo #criticism #sarah reads

[kushami-hime]

a rant.

OK. I was off and on recently, just trying to get my mind off of things (stuff you know by now) when I got a message.

I may be overreacting but I'm already emotionally unstable and relapsed in the worst way (won't go into detail here it's sensitive stuff)

First off, absolutely obvious from their blog that they were a minor. Which means they saw my pinned post and addressed it, but didn't respect it and moved on with their life anyway despite the fact that this isn't a space for them to begin with.

Second, I'm tired of people being like "isn't the MHA cast all minors? And yet you're making kink content with them???"

what part of A.) AGED UP PRO HERO AU, and B.) THEY LITERALLY DONT EXIST AND ARE LITERALLY LINES ON A SCREEN do you not understand??????

I'm. Tired. From having to deal with recent goings on outside of Tumblr, and frankly, I'm TIRED of people telling me that what I enjoy creating should be shamed and frowned upon. That I have to be corrected and told that I'm wrong day in and day out. I'm tired. Just...TIRED in general of people needing to disrupt my good vibes (or what's left of them) because YOU don't like what makes ME happy when it has NO IMPACT ON YOU (especially a MINOR WHO SHOULDNT BE ON MY BLOG IN THE FIRST PLACE). I'm fucking sick of it.

So. Kindly, mind your own business and let me make/create the things that make me happy. Because to be honest with the way things are going these days, I need as much serotonin as I can get my grubby hands on.

I'm a snzfucker on the edge rn.

#kushami rants #emotions are boiling over