#I've thrown off the view count. again.

[genericpuff]

I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING EISNERS-

i've been finding lately that there are so many topics i still wanna talk about concerning LO and its development and they just don't happen because i get distracted or busy and my brain is like "ok we're just gonna pretend we've already talked about it even though we haven't" JFKDLSAJFDASKLFJSLKA

Let's talk about the Eisners and LO's recent 'win'.

I've already briefly mentioned in previous posts that LO has had a lot of its awards and accolades bought for it. This is especially true for both the NYT Bestseller label (seriously, none of those labels are ever earned, it's not some top 100 list that you compete on, it goes to whoever is willing to pay for it or whoever an editorial column wants to highlight) and, of course, the Eisner Award, which is not exactly an award judged by the industry's finest (the judges this year were made up of largely comic book shop owners and librarians).

But we're not here to talk about that. I wanna talk about what happened after LO won its second Eisner.

First off, the fact that it can be nominated at all when it doesn't even really fit the criteria for their submissions is sketchy at best:

see: "new, professionally produced long-form original comics work posted online in 2022." LO is not 'new'. Sure, it has new episodes, but I don't think that really follows the spirit of what they meant by 'new'. The Eisner doesn't seem like an award that should be granted to the same series twice, is my point, and that's one of the many complaints brought up in the absolute dressing down that LO got in its announcement post on the Webtoons Official IG page.

Of course, you can see for yourself right here.

But for the sake of fun, let's share some of the excerpts here.

(and yes I'm sharing a LOT of these because frankly I don't trust WT to not delete them in an attempt to hide all the shit that's being thrown at their precious "baby")

While names have been censored to protect the users involve, I will say one thing - this isn't some attempt from antiLO/ULO members to brigade the series' win, there are other comic creators in this discussion as well from the Canvas section who aren't pleased with seeing LO win another Eisner when there are multiple new series from this past year alone which deserve more attention than they're getting. Again, see for yourself if you click on the link above, the vast majority of comments on this post are expressing their disappointment and you can tell from how they've been sitting at the top while all the positive comments are being 'pushed' to the bottom - the like counts say it all.

All of this, paired with the fact that LO didn't win a SINGLE user-voted award during the Webtoonies, goes to show that the Webtoons audience is over LO. They're done with it. It's not relevant anymore, the only ones who still keep up with it are the stans and those holding on in the hopes that the story gets around to resolving the SA plotline and gets its TV show (which I've also mentioned has a real possibility of not happening, at least not now when it would count the most LMAO)

It still gets more likes than any other series on the platform (for now) but you can tell during its current hiatus that when LO is out of sight, it's out of people's minds - despite many of these episodes now being weeks old, their like counts aren't going up, no new readers are being pulled in. And the fact that a series with over 6 million subscribers can barely scratch 100k likes nowadays is... really something.

And that's on its free to read episodes, it's FP episodes - where views count the most because it's where LO makes its money and initial views - aren't even a fraction of what the free episodes often take well over a week to gain at this point.

Episode 252:

And the midseason finale, 253:

Compare it to Down to Earth which gets 70k likes on average on its free episodes (though its current new FP is sitting at the 1k mark), is LO still bringing in higher numbers than other series? Yes. But it's clearly falling to a point where it's going to be on par with every other comic on the platform in no time. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like after it comes back from this poorly-timed hiatus, when all of its official fan groups have also been shuttered preventing people from staying in touch within their own fandom.

Awards like the Webtoonies are, while largely just for street cred, still audience-based, and I really hope the fact that the people have spoken not once, but twice through their engagement with the platform - both through the comment section on LO's Eisner win and the votes in favor of other series in the Webtoonies - will be a major wake-up call to WT that they can't keep trying the same things over and over again expecting different results. They can't keep stuffing money into LO as if advertising or awards are the reason LO isn't pulling in the numbers it used to. They can't keep pretending that LO still has the merit and credibility that it once had 5 years ago.

It's like that comparison from Super Eyepatch Wolf talking about why you shouldn't take advice on how to be "successful" from Youtubers who got famous 5+ years ago:

"Say you decide you want to become a carpenter, and particularly, how to build a nice chair. Think about the kind of person you'd want to learn that skill from. Would it be from someone who has built nice chairs every day for 20 years? Or would it be the guy who built one nice chair five years ago out of a special kind of wood that doesn't exist anymore, who has no experience with the kind of wood available to you now?"

LO is a byproduct of a version of Webtoons that no longer exists. It was fortunate enough to join the Canvas section when the Canvas section was still only lightly populated, before WT started trying to sell the idea that anyone could become "rich" on their platform (an idea largely perpetuated by creators LIKE RACHEL who only became big because WT threw all of their money at them), before Greek myth comics became commonplace (again, something that's a consequence of Rachel/Lore Olympus) and before the romance genre became largely filled with problematic "dark" romances (again, see Lore Olympus).

Do you see the pattern of what I'm talking about here? A lot of what Webtoons became known for was a byproduct of Lore Olympus and series like it, because those series did phenomenally well, due to being in the right place at the right time, so WT went "hey, cool, this makes us lots of money! Let's do more of that!" Obviously this isn't to say that Lore Olympus is the root of all evil here OR that it didn't have its own merit back in the day, but if you make a series that blows every other series out of the water in stats, it's only natural for a company to want to pursue more series and story tropes like it in the hopes that it'll replicate exactly what comics like LO did, completely misunderstanding why LO did well in the first place. At the time, LO's art was unique for the platform, and it was tackling a story that was extremely popular on platforms like Tumblr so it naturally gained a crowd.

But that was five years ago. Since then, the WT audience climate has changed dramatically, as it always does every few years; and LO and WT haven't kept up. We went through a phase of BL, isekai, and now WT seems to be in an odd limbo because it's still clinging to a series from three whole lifetimes ago, especially now with so many of its other signature series either finally ending (True Beauty) or walking away from the platform entirely (Let's Play).

At this point, Lore Olympus is a chair that was nice five years ago, but has since started to fall apart - its paint is chipping, and its legs don't stand up so well anymore - and WT is still trying to sell it you as the exact same chair - with cheap new paint and a few bits and bobs attached to try and convince you that the chair is new - but it's long past its prime. This isn't to say that the chair itself doesn't deserve to exist, just that it shouldn't be given so much proprietary advertising and attention when there are so many other works on the platform that deserve to be uplifted and seen.

LO was good for its era, it was successful for a reason, but we're halfway through 2023 and it's painfully obvious that the comic and the platform's audience is ready to move on to new territories. Webtoons just needs to learn to let go.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus #essay post

[mayfieldsqueen]

Could you do a Steve fic with the classic argument between him and the reader because he gets mad at her for putting herself in danger and she says why and he says because I can’t lose you damn it!

we go round and round, satellite (steve harrington x reader)

i am so sorry this took so long i've had exams and then no wifi for a week.

summary: what the request says basically, and it covers all seasons of the show :)

word count: 1.6k

warnings: st4 spoilers (idk if that's still a warning but just incase), swearing, not proof read, bad writing

Hawkins is a dangerous town. Disappearances, deaths and, known only to few, a dark alternate dimension with annual threats to the town.

You were a part of this few, having fought a demogorgon with the likes of Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers in the first year, with a surprise appearance from Steve Harrington. Due to his unexpected addition to the plan, the three of you had to adapt and try to not get him killed. You even went as far as jumping in front of him to shoot at the Demogorgon before it could swing at him. 

“What the hell was that?” Steve yelled, once it was dead, waving his hands around at the burnt carpet. “You guys have such a high level of stupidity going after that.”

“You can’t talk about high levels, Harrington. Not with that hair.” You smirked at him, earning a playful flick to the forehead and a huff. 

The next year you wound up once again fighting interdimensional creatures with Steve, only this time with a bunch of children, who you learned were sassy, rude and, quite frankly, a bit mean. Their attitude didn’t matter when you were underground surrounded by toxic air and slithering vines. You were the first to Dustin’s side when something sprayed at him, insisting from then on you lead the way, yelling at Steve when he tried to protest.

After doing your part in saving Will and closing the gate, you helped the other kids back through the whole, using your leg as a step. Steve insisted you go before him, placing his hands on your waist to help you up. You paused to look at him and found his eyes already on you, but before you could thank him the ground began to shake. Immediately grabbing your gun, you stood in front of him prepared to shoot the demodogs but felt him pull you backwards against his chest, holding you tight so you don’t fall. 

“Thanks,” you whispered as you turned around, hands on his chest.

“No problem. You okay?”

“Yeah fine. Don’t worry about m-”

“Hey! Let’s get going before they decide to turn back and have you guys for dinner!” Dustin’s beady face popped into view, eyebrows high and eyes wide. 

“Jeez, okay, Henderson,” Steve murmured as he helped you climb the rope, steading you as you rose. He didn’t miss the way Dustin’s eyebrows rose impossibly higher.

“GO!” You found yourself screaming eight months later with Steve and your new friend Robin Buckley. The door thumped against your bodies as you held it off, just long enough for the kids to escape. The floor was cool as you were thrown onto it face first.

Being tied to a chair in a Russian underground lair was not your ideal way to spend the 4th of July, but you wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. And you told them as such, the drugs acting as a truth serum. 

One of the guards strutted over, emphasising every word, “This one like to talk. Tell me. Who do you work for?”

“Who do you work for?” You mocked, giggling with a squeal. The guard grabbed your chin forcefully, eyes dark with rage as your own widened. Before you could think, you spat in his face. As he stumbled backwards you murmured lowly, Russian accent still strong, “Don’t touch me.”

Beside you, you felt Steve shifting around in attempt to see what’s going on. He mumbled a “be careful” as his fingers reached yours, trying to intertwine them. Gently, he tapped the tips of your fingers three times. A soft smile grazed both of your faces.

Later, once sober and free, you were in the driver’s seat of the expensive white car aggressively starting the ignition. You slammed your foot on the gas and sped to the direction of Billy’s car.

“Hey, HEY! What are you doing? You’re gonna get yourself killed!” Steve frantically waved his arms about, smashing backwards into the passenger seat as you crashed into Billy.

“You were saying?” You asked breathlessly. You turned to look at Steve who was looking back at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You said three!” Dustin sighed as Steve climbed on the boat behind you.

“Sorry,” he shrugged. He shifted to face you and saw you shiver. “You okay?”

“Just a bit cold, don’t worry.” You leant forward to him, “Do you think we’ll ever get out of this mess? I mean, year after year it’s the same. I just want a normal life. And the kids, oh those poor kids.”

Steve grabbed your hands, “We’re going to catch this Vecna, free Max from his curse and it’s all going to be over. Don’t know if you’ll ever be normal though,” he said with a wink, earning a kick to his shin.

“You wanna stop flirting, lovebirds? We’re above the gate,” Eddie said, eyebrows raised. 

You snatched your hands back from Steve and joined the argument of who should swim down there. Steve argued as he removed his clothes, but you were faster, diving in before anyone could stop you. The bottom of Lover’s Lake was luminated by the red glow of the gate, enticing you in. Once you felt your breath run short, you swam back up.

“What the fuck was that? Do you have any idea have stupid that was?” Steve spat at you, hand raking through his hair.

You ignored him, rolling your eyes. “The gate’s down there. It’s not as big as the mother gate but it’s by no means small.”

A tug on your ankle stopped any conversation while you hastily grabbed onto the side of the boat. In seconds you were submerged once more. Trashing in the water, you tried to escape what was attached to you, but it only gained speed as it pulled you through to the Upside Down.

The toxic air was familiar but stronger, sharply entering your lungs. Your back was instantly scratched by the ground as you were dragged along the floor, until you hit the remains of a boat, the vine pulling you falling off. No longer than you were released by a vine, another wrapped itself around your neck as demobats dived down into your sides. Screams ripped through your body as you attempted to fight them off. 

Just as you felt your air supply was too short, your friends appeared fighting off the creatures. You joined them, slamming them away with an oar Nancy gave you, trying to ignore the agonising pain in your sides. 

Once they were dead, Steve slammed into you, arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“Don’t do that again,” Steve firmly said into your ear.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you joked, pulling back to smile at him. Your smile dropped when you saw his frown. “What?”

“It’s not funny. You don’t realise how serious this is!” He let go of you, hand going back through his hair.

“Don’t I? Why did you think I jumped in? I didn’t want any of you facing whatever the fuck this was!” 

“Exactly! You don’t get it. You’re always putting yourself in danger, you’re going to die one day!”

“SO? At least it’ll being doing something useful, helping stop whatever this is!” Your arms waved aimlessly around, dragging your hands down your face. “You know, Steve, I don’t think you understand. All I wanted to do was help and you’re just yelling at me. How do you think I feel?” 

“You are useful! I just can’t stand watching you hurl yourself towards unknown dangers and possibly certain death!” Steve’s eyes bore into yours, his chest heaving with his breath. 

“Why? Huh? Why do you care so much? It’s not like I’m Dustin or Robin or even Nancy. Save your breath for someone who deserves it!” 

“You do deserve it!” Steve was almost shouting now, trying to match your volume.

“Why?” You cried, eyes desperately scanning his face, chasing his avoiding gaze. 

“Because I can’t lose you, dammit!” He screamed. A silence washed over the shadow dimension, the only sound your heavy breathing. His watery eyes drifted up to yours as he whispered, “I love you.”

“Steve,” you whispered back, stepping slightly towards him. “I-” A deafening screech cut you off. You all turned to face the hoard of bats swarming towards you. “Run.” 

You all made it to Skull Rock before you stopped, believing you had outrun them. As you moved to catch your breath, a shooting pain ran through your sides causing you to fall. Steve caught you just before you hit the ground. He helped patch up your wounds with the remains of your shirt and Nancy’s makeshift bandage, not once catching your eye.

“Steve,” you breathed, “look at me, please.” His eyes slowly met yours, fearful yet shy. You took a deep breath in, wincing at the pain it caused. You brushed off his attempt to help and placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you, too.” 

A large smile took over his face and he surged forward, capturing your lips in his. The kiss was soft and tender yet full of passion. Your hand slid from his cheek into his hair to pull him closer before pulling away and resting your foreheads together. When you opened your eyes you saw him smiling softly at you. He opened his mouth as so to speak.

“Hey, as lovely as that was we need to get a move on or else we’re going to be stuck in this shithole forever,” Robin called to you. You looked at her and she winked, causing heat to flood to your cheeks. 

Steve grabbed your hand and you started walking towards the Wheelers’ house. You tugged his hand and he turned to you with soft eyes. You gave him one more kiss before going to save the world. 

thank you for reading! reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

#steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #joe keery #netflix #joe keery x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction

[katcoquette]

Goodness Gracious

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x f!Reader

masterlist | taglist

summary: you take the navy boy up on his offer to make up for almost hitting you in the head with a football.

★ word count: 1.7k

★ tw: edging, too hot to handle, intimacy

★ author's note: I got a littleee bit carried away... technically a part two of this but can be read on its own! also, there will be at least 3 more independent parts of this 'series'! (side note: the great balls of fire music video they just released of miles teller does something to me I've watched it HUNDREDS of times, has me kicking my feet and squealing god DAMN.) part three

He walked into the bar like he owned the place.

You could see him from your spot at the counter scanning the room as you sip the straw in front of you.

His shirt is back on, with a loose button-up thrown over the top. His signature aviators are still on, and even though the air had cooled down significantly from when you were on the beach, you still feel hot.

He only arrives 10 minutes after the rest of them, but that had been enough time for Jake, “Hangman”, to buy you and your friends a round and properly introduce himself.

After the encounter at the beach, you, and by extension, Gemma, Z, and Max, had been invited to join the group of pilots at a local bar later that evening. It was easy enough to find, and you walked in to see an ongoing pool game. Hangman recognized your group and called you over to join them, and that’s how you ended up on the stool that gave you a perfect view of the entrance to the bar.

When he spots you, you smile cheekily, pushing off the counter so your stool spins to face toward the pool table- your back to him. You make a point of holding your drink when he appears next to you.

“Nice of you to join us, Rooster.” Hangman calls from a couple of stools down, where he’s sitting talking to Max. You look up at Rooster and smirk, biting your bottom lip.

“What he said.” You tease, sucking your straw again. He ignores Hangman and sits down next to you. You turn and face him, putting one elbow up on the counter and leaning into it.

He puts a finger up to order a drink then focuses his attention on you, mirroring your position.

“I’m not off to a good start, am I?”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “I wouldn’t say that.” You motion toward Hangman with your head, “He just beat you to it.”

You look back and watch him shamelessly flirt with your friend, then share a glance with Rooster. “Although you were already ahead.”

He chuckles, “Not your type?”

You shake your head, smiling. “I’m more into… guys in Hawaiian shirts and aviators.”

“Wow, even after I almost hit you with that football?” You grin, “Who said I meant you?”

He makes a big show of looking around the bar, both of you aware already that you were definitely describing him.

The two of you lock eyes, his expression saying I told you so, and he’s waiting to see what your next move will be. The intensity causes your face to heat up.

You clear your throat and continue, shaking the now empty glass in your hand. “So, you gonna start making it up to me, or what?”

༛ ༛ ༛༛

You had finished another drink courtesy of Rooster, as well as a shot you had crossed arms and done together- Three, Two, One, Drink!- and now you were in the middle of a team pool game with seven other people.

You hear a bell ring from the middle of the bar, followed by whooping and hollering. You lean over to Rooster once he finishes cheering along, “What does that mean?”

He smirks, “Someone broke the rules of the bar, drinks are on them.” And then to the rest of the group, “I’ll get us another round!”

You watch him walk away. He’s got to be the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen. His tanned skin still seems to be glowing, even though it’s long past sunset. And his shoulders…

He probably gives good hugs. You decide you’ll find out tonight.

Z pokes you with her pool stick from the other side of the table. It startles you out of your thoughts, and you turn to look at her. She’s smirking. “Don’t ya think he’ll need some help with those?”

You roll your eyes slightly in an attempt to cover her catching you staring but agree anyway and make your way through the crowd to find him.

“Hey.” You nudge his shoulder with yours.

He grins, turning on the stool to face you. “Hey.”

“How many more are we waiting on?” You motion to the two bottles that he has in front of him. His grin changes into the same sheepish one he wore on the beach, but this time, it’s accompanied by a glint in his eye.

“Actuallyy…I was only planning on getting you one.” You give him a questioning smile.

He doesn’t say anything, not yet. Instead, he reaches out and grabs your arm, slowly pulling you closer to him until you’re practically standing between his legs, and he can wrap an arm around you. You return the gesture, letting an arm fall loosely around his neck.

It wasn’t the first time he’d touched you tonight- you’d been brushing body parts and giving flirty pats all evening, but this was more intentional, and it set your skin on fire.

The stool is tall enough that even with him sitting, you’re basically face to face.

On the outside, you’re sure you look calm and collected- even sultry. On the inside… that was a different story.

You almost miss the next words that come out of his mouth.

“Remember what I said on the beach?” You nod.

Full disclosure- I’m planning on stealing you away once the rest of the guys are there to distract your friends.

“This is me trying to steal you away.”

You look back at the pool table, everyone engrossed in the game or each other, and you decide you won’t feel bad about not returning with drinks.

You turn back to the beautiful, beautiful man in front of you.

“Let’s go then.”

༛ ༛ ༛༛

You’d willingly followed Rooster outside to the patio of the Hard Deck. It hadn’t been set up for the season yet, so the two of you stand just out of view of the inside of the bar. It’s quieter outside, both of you falling into a comfortable silence as you drink.

It was a strange feeling, being so relaxed around someone you’d met earlier that day. There was something friendly about him, you’d felt it at the beach too. You hadn’t known him long, yes, but you knew he was genuine.

You take a deep breath of the cool sea breeze and look up at the stars twinkling in the sky.

“What’s it like up there?” You almost whisper. You’re still looking up when you ask it, so you miss the look of pure adoration on his face as he smiles to himself.

When he doesn’t immediately answer, you finally glance over. He’s still staring at you.

Your heart skips a beat.

You take a step closer to him, gently pulling his aviators away from his eyes and pushing them up onto his head.

“It’s exhilarating.” His voice is low as he reaches up and brushes a piece of hair off your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“Up there-“ He gestures up with a nod of his head, then looks back down into your eyes. His hand slides from your cheek to the side of your head. “It can feel like you’re the only person truly living.”

You take a sharp breath in as he leans in and kisses you.

You’re not sure if it’s the slight buzz you still have from the alcohol you’ve consumed, but you feel like you’ve been struck by lightning.

One hand cups your face, while the older holds your hips firm against his. His lips are soft, and damn he’s an amazing kisser.

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, nails lightly scratching the nape of his neck.“Y/N-“ He moans against your lips.

“Hey Roost!”

You jump apart slightly at the voice.

“Ooh, sorry to interrupt. Think we could use a song in there when you have a minute.” Another pilot says with a wink, before retreating into the bar.

You hide your face in your hands against Rooster’s chest, laughing at the situation. He wraps his arms around you in a massive hug, joining your laughter.

You’d been right about his hugs.

You look up at him incredulously a few moments later, gripping his biceps. “Don’t tell me you can play the piano.”

He shrugs, pretending to brush off one shoulder. “I dabble.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you, kissing him again. His hands are back on your waist. “Well don’t you just keep getting better and better.” You murmur against his lips.

You pull away, smirking. “We better get in there; I have to see this.”

He grins, slides his aviators back on, and grabs your hand.

༛ ༛ ༛༛

The second you hear him play the first chords; you’re convinced he was just being humble.

And then he sings. You almost pass out.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!” He pushes up his sunglasses. “Too much love drives a man insane!” He was driving you insane.

“You broke my will, but what a thrill!” He leans closer to you, and you join in for the next line. “Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” Here you go.

“Kiss me baby! Ooh, that feels good, baby.” No one misses the look he gives you at that line, making you blush.

“Hold me baby!” You, Z, and Gemma grab each other. At this point half the bar was singing along, but you were still focused on Rooster’s voice. “I wanna love you like a lover should.”

“You’re fine!” You sing to Rooster, holding your hand up like you have a microphone.

You clasp a hand over your heart. “You’re so kind!”

“Imma tell the world that you’re mine mine mine mine!” You’re laughing, arms thrown around your friends, and having the time of your life.

The piano solo comes and now you’re sure he’s showing off. He doesn’t break eye contact and he slides his fingers across the keys.

“OW!” You cheer him on.

He gives you a cheeky smile and a wink as he goes back into the song.

You scream along with the rest of the bar for another verse and a half, dancing with your friends, and sneaking glances with Rooster.

“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” You put your hands in the air as everyone finishes singing.

The entire bar erupts into cheers, and as they start chanting Rooster’s name, and he stands up and does a victory dance, you know you’re in for a wild ride.

part three

Taglist (if it didn't work for you/the username is wrong from my form, please message me!):

@erinwrld @roosterschanelslut @bakersbucky @oracle-of-quantico60 @princessabunnie @jaehyunicecream @callsignsmiley @lilyed777 @gcldtom

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun 2 #top gun fanfiction #miles teller #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #rooster fic #rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley brashaw fanfic #top gun

[alexdelray1]

Miles 42 x Fem Reader.

Warnings: Bad words and mentions of death.

Type: Fluff.

One and last time people. I am Reader Corrow.

I come from Earth 42 and at the age of 15 I was infected with spider DNA through an accident in my aunt's lab. Better not to go into details. I've been the only Spider-Woman for several months now. I saved a lot of people, arrested some bad guys and killed one guy in self-defense, but it's not the best memory. I'm not the best student or genius so my aunt made my costume understanding my situation. It is beautiful. I just don't know what else to say about it.

I've been going to 'Visions' school for two years and I'm studying there to become a scientist. Great ambition, great power and great responsibility. It's true that it's terrible pressure, but it works. I also have my friend Miles. He's kind of how to say...weird. He wasn't always like this, but after his dad died, he started to get darker and more mysterious. At first I thought it was normal after losing a loved one that he goes somewhere at night and don't want to talk as much as he used to. I went through it myself, but it's been going on for a year. So is Prowler's presence on the streets of New York.

-Miles, do you have time today?- I asked him on the way home from school. Miles looked the other way, still serious.

-Not really.- he replied, sighing.

-What are you doing today, mister mystery?- I joked and chuckled.

-None of your business.- he replied still seriously.

-Ok I understand. Don't be so tense. - I didn't want to delve into the topic anymore because I knew that he would sulk soon.

-Sorry. I just don't have time lately. Do you understand?- He stopped and asked me.

-Yeah. I see. We have exams soon anyway and you're top of the class. You can't take a geek's nose out of a book.- I laughed and started walking towards his house again because it was closer.

-Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if I'm smart or you're a bunch of idiots. Eh, I'm betting on both.- Miles finally joked and we started laughing.

-Maybe you're right. Okay, we're at your place. - I said and we stood in front of his tenement house.

-Bye Reader. See you tomorrow.- He replied and started walking up the stairs to the door.

-Bye Miles.- I said goodbye and walked the other way. I hope he doesn't fall asleep at his desk again.

TIME SKIP.

This costume is not only very comfortable, but also metal. I normally have Tony Stark-like technology. And it's fucking awesome with that costume. Now all I have to do is wait for some motherfucker to come and destroy it by ripping my stomach open. But that's not until I get a kid and Marvel thinks my life is a little too happy.

-This view gets prettier every night.- I sighed while sitting on the roof of the skyscraper. It's night time and the criminals get up to get kicked in the ass by me. My spider sense warned me. I caught the knife that was thrown at me.

-And you keep getting uglier and smaller every night.- Prowler commented behind me.

-I can say the same about your dick Prowler.- I retaliated and he let out a disgruntled grunt.

-Hahaha funny now let's get serious.- He said sarcastically and aimed a blow at me.

-You know there's always time to switch sides.- I said blocking his attack.

-No thanks, I like my old good side.- He replied trying to throw me off balance.

-It's funny, because you're not on the good side at all.- I laughed, kicking him in the face and he fell a few meters away.

-You're probably always like this.- He commented and got to his feet, preparing to attack.

-Oh, you are very nice. I'll be honest.- I said and he laughed.

-What can I say. I'm always nice to some level.- He replied and attacked me.

-This level is probably in the negative.- I jumped and landed behind him.

-As always, painfully honest. And don't wait. It means that you lie to most of the people around you with some excuses. Tell me. How many people know you're Spider-Woman?- he asked, trying to evoke my sadness.

-Do you count the dead people?- I asked, placing my hands on my hips.

-You can't discriminate against the dead.- he replied, raising his arms.

-Two. And don't try this tactic. I bet you do that yourself. Lie to everyone. Except for one person. I don't believe you're alone in this shit.- I said.

-Maybe you're right. May not. You're an interesting person. I'm curious what faces you are making under this mask now. - He confided and started to approach me.

- You sound like a psychologist. And under my mask I make faces that are meant only for me, my mirror and nice people. And you don't look like a mirror or a nice person.- my 'watch' started to pip.

- Shit.- I cursed and started to fight the Prowler.

-Spider-Woman from Earth 42 is being called to the main hall on Earth 2099. Immediately.- My 'watch' started chirping.

-What?- asked the confused Prowler, trying to grab my hand on which I had a 'watch'.

-Fuck. Lyla. Can't you see I'm busy?- I asked my "watch" and kicked the Prowler in the face.

-It is very important. We have a 'rebel' and you have to help the others stop him.- Lyla said without showing up.

-It's so stupid. Let the boy or girl do whatever they want on his or her earth.- I sighed, ignoring the fact that the Prowler got up from the ground.

-But he's an anomaly on his own earth...- Lyla said and I froze.

-Oh shit. I'll be there in a moment. Sorry handsome, but I have work to do. - I said and stood on the edge of the building.

-Wait! What's the deal with Earth 42 and what was it?!- Prowler tried to run up to me, but I jumped off the roof.

-Bye bye!- I said and opened the portal. I flew into it, leaving my villain behind. What a pity I couldn't kick his ass longer.

END. Do you guys like Beyoncé?

#x reader #spider verse #spider woman #earth 42 miles morales x reader #fem reader #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales #prowler miles

[sagesilentfire]

another toffee analysis by sage h silentfire

I've been sitting on this analysis for a while, and I was going to touch on it briefly in a project I'm working on, but a talk with my therapist allowed me to put it into words and in greater detail than before. So here it is:

Why exactly do I like Toffee so much? It's a genuine question. He's the target of many different questionable writing choices, barely focused on, and forgotten within seconds of his death. We know so little about him he's basically a generic doomsday villain. The fandom is worse to him: popular interpretations paint him as cruel, arrogant, spiteful, and even, surprisingly enough, stupid. The word "sociopath" gets thrown around a lot, which, ableist. He's emotionless. He has no empathy. He's unable to connect with people. While liking villains is somewhat acceptable nowadays, it's always with the expectation that you like them because they're evil, not for any deeper reason. And with Toffee, because he's so poorly written, that should be the reason you like him. Because he's evil, and that's awesome.

But that's not why I like Toffee.

See, I am autistic, and that's never going away. I get more stereotypically autistic by the year, as I grow and become more independent, and my newfound independence clashes with my family and the society I live in. I'm weird, I'm moderately smart, I'm quirky. But more critically, I have no close friends because I literally don't know how to make and maintain friendships. I feel painfully aware of the potential emotions of everyone around me, but I don't know how to act on that awareness and communicate effectively with people, leading me to assume the worst. I have had meltdowns in crowded spaces that went completely unnoticed because I was "too subtle". I even worry that I'll die without any of the stories I want to tell – without my story – being told, because no one wanted to learn it.

Sound familiar?

So yes, I like Toffee. Even think he's a halfway decent person morality-wise, not just a villain. He expresses emotions weirdly, but he does express emotions. He is staunchly not willing to sacrifice his plans for others, but he still takes time to be nice to other people regardless. He didn't kill Moon and Marco when he could have, even though they were trying to kill him. He is empathetic enough to manipulate people and smart enough to take control of any situation, and he does it while not expressing emotions in ways others would expect. He's so much like my dream self fr.

And he dies the unquestioned villain, never getting the chance to tell his side of the story. The only perspective that we do get is filtered through the lens of his murderers. 

"But Sage!" you might be saying. "What about Comet?!"

Well. I do count Comet's death as one of the questionable choices the writers made (it makes very little sense with Toffee's character, wouldn't he manipulate her into a better deal? It feels a little like the writers were like "Oh shoot, we haven't made Toffee evil enough to 'deserve' his graphic death, let's... uh, let's make him kill Moon's mother for no reason!"), but I can understand why Toffee did it, again through an autistic lens.

See, autistic people like me aren't taken seriously. Not about our areas of knowledge, not about our views and beliefs, and especially not about matters of our physical and mental health. We're treated like weird baby dolls that are expected not to have meltdowns or criticize their "superiors". Or we're embarrassments, time bombs just waiting to go off and mortify whoever we're with. Growing up, I was never able to be right, or even have a point. Oh, there were minor disagreements my guardians let me "win" and then would weaponize during the more serious arguments, but whenever we got into screaming matches, I was always the one in the wrong. We didn't even apologize or talk it out after arguments; it was always expected that I would realize I was wrong eventually and it was swept under the rug with all the other skeletons of long-dead arguments and left to simmer into resentment. 

But there was one surefire way to make a dent, one I discovered recently and that has actually saved my life.

In the summer of 2022, I was put on a new medication. Long story short, I did not sleep for two weeks. I was in shambles, and I needed my mother to raise hell from me, because she would not let me do it myself – my psychiatry goes through my guardians, and I didn't even have the psychiatrist's number at the time. But she wouldn't do anything. The psychiatrist thought things would level out eventually, and my mother thought what the psychiatrist thought, nevermind that I was actively getting worse and my sleeping pills were getting less effective by the day. I begged her to raise hell like I knew she could, and she sent a mild phone call gently suggesting that things still weren't ideal. I could feel myself slipping away as everyone who was ostensibly taking care of me sat and twiddled their thumbs.

So I got personal. I deliberately started a big blowout. I convinced her that things weren't going well, and this little game of chicken with my health wouldn't result in the perfect, uncritical, angelic autistic daughter she so desperately wanted. I got into a screaming match, I listed everything she had ever done wrong, and I told her to shut up and stop spewing weak justifications on how my pain wasn't her fault, actually. I hit her where it hurts. I hurt her back. I hurt her.

And it worked. Hurting her made her take me seriously and I was back on my old meds before sunset. I slept well that night. And I will never regret it. 

So maybe Toffee's plan to overthrow his colonizers with the death of Comet didn't end in monster victory. But if it weren't for the eleventh-hour dark magic, it would have. And Toffee's people were oppressed and the victims of genocide for ages. They were the small band of rebels fighting an evil colonizing empire. They were ideologically in the right. They kicked and clawed and bit until they found something to hurt, and then they didn't hesitate. Because no one took them seriously, and they still wouldn't have taken them seriously unless they did something damaging. Comet sure didn't; her chapter is a continually escalating series of microaggressions. Moon didn't; she doesn't seem to care about the conflict at all before Comet's death. Who else would take him seriously? Mina? The High Commission? Glossaryck?

So while I don't think he was totally in character in killing Comet, I do understand more than others why he might have done it. 

Because Toffee is like me, for better or for worse. And he could have been great for me and people like me. But he wasn't. He was assumed to be evil and left to die immediately. Because people like me are always the bad guys.

In short,

Exhibits:

Toffee's emotions, courtesy @butterflyeffectiveless:

Comet's continually escalating microaggressions:

Additional source for Toffee being autistic:

because i'm autistic and i like him

the end.

#when i reread comet's chapter for this i only expected to get the line about monsters being uncivilized for not 'savoring' food or whatever #turns out i got waaay more than that #(and it's so funny because omg the people that you've historically denied food and only give the most disgusting pieces to don't eat slowly #the horror) #but yeah. autistic toffee for the win #i hope you get to kill all the queens again in the afterlife ily <3 #may your revenge be sweet and your conscience clean #*bangs pots and pans* TELL US THE EXACT TERMS OF THE PEACE TREATY BEFORE YOU EXPECT US TO RENDER MORAL JUDGEMENT #FOR ALL WE KNOW IT COULD'VE BEEN UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER WE GET ALL YOUR FOOD AND YOU HAVE TO SACRIFICE YOUR FIRSTBORN CHILD TO GLOSSARYCK #AND ARCHDUKE BATFACE WAS DESCRIBED BY COMET HERSELF AS SOFT SO HE PROBABLY WOULD'VE SIGNED IT #I COULD KILL QUEEN COMET ON SIGHT AND BE 100% UNQUESTIONABLY MORALLY JUSTIFIED DEPENDING ON THE TERMS #(boosting glossaryck's ego in any way is always morally wrong and the only thing worthy of being sent to hell) #svtfoe #svtfoe negativity #svtfoe critical #svtfoe salt #svtfoe analysis #star vs the forces of evil #actuallyautistic #autistic gaze #actually suprisingly has nothing to do with samatfoe #just canon analysis #analysis #queue queue #(though now that i think of it i'm kind of disappointed my Comet is so different than canon Comet because this could be a great lesson in #fake allyship and racism without racists) #(but dw star fills that quota just fine) #toffee of septarsis

[atlas-likes-writing]

Taxi!

Character(s): Reader Insert, Lex Luthor, Poison Ivy/Pamela Isley, Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinnzel, Zoom/Hunter Zolomon, Mr Mxyzptlk, Joker, Nightwing/Dick Grayson, The Flash/Barry Allen, Red Robin/Tim Drake, Green Lantern/Hal Jordan, Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane, Reverse Flash/Eobard Thawne, The Riddler/Edward Nighma, Red Hood/Jason Todd, Batman/Bruce Wayne, Wonder Woman/Diana Prince, Superman/Clark Kent, Darkseid (mentioned)

Summary: You applied for a job as a taxi-driver and somehow managed to get it. A lot of very interesting people now enlist your services.

Word count: 1580

Tags: Comedy, chaos, mentions/inferences of explosives and illegal acts such as murder, decapitation (written with comedy in mind)

Authors Note: Me? Finishing a WIP? You must have the wrong person.

Your job was an interesting one.

It wasn't bad, persay. It payed the bills and kept you off the streets. However, if you told yourself a few months ago that you'd be driving some of the most infamous people on the planet around in your tiny yellow taxi every day, you would've laughed and thrown yourself into a psych ward.

Yet here you are, stationed around Central City, Metropolis and Gotham. As you've recently realised, the people who hire your services are quite the colourful bunch, which has led to some- ahem- interesting conversations...

--

"Ah, Y/N! How are you on this fine evening?"

"Wonderful as always, Mr Luthor. How was your day?" you reply, looking at the billionaire through your rear-view mirror.

"Productive," he answers, "My engineering team are in the process of creating a shield strong enough to stop the Sun's rays from reaching the Earth's surface!"

"How interesting! May I ask what it's for?" you question.

"No, you may not."

--

"--And they don't use petrol or diesel? Are you sure?" Ivy asks, fidgeting with her fingers nervously.

"Yep!" Harley replies, "It's a completely electric taxi to help the environment."

"Alright then." Ivy appears to relax a little. She turns to the road as you slow your car to a stop in front of the two women.

"There's my favourite taxi driver! How'ya doin', sweetheart?" Harley asks, leaning through the window to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"Better now you're here, Harley. Where am I taking you lovely ladies?"

"You flatter us," Ivy smiles as she gets in the car and fastens her seat belt, "Ace Chemicals, please."

You shoot her a thumbs up. "Got it."

"I'd be careful if I were you, kid. I heard that the Big Bad Bat is out tonight." Harley warns.

"Not to worry, Harls. I was born a Gothamite. I know how to hide in the shadows just as much as he does."

Shortly after your shift that night, you open your door at the sound of the doorbell ringing to see a beautiful bouquet of pink roses. Attached to it is a small paper label saying: "Thanks for your help sweetheart, much appreciated. - Ivy." Needless to say, the questions your nosy neighbours keep asking you steadily become more and more difficult to answer.

--

"But- you're a speedster? Why do you need me to drive you around Central City when you could jog and be there in seconds?" you ask, turning on your indicator as you drive around a corner.

"Don't worry about it," replies the voice modulator in Zoom's mask.

"Alright-."

--

"Good morning Mr Mit- Mxia- Mr spitlik- Mr Mixiaspitlik."

Mr Mxyzptlk sighs. "Close enough."

--

"So how come you're taking a taxi? Don't you have a clown car?" you question, turning in your seat to face the pale passenger in the back of your taxi.

"WayneTech promised me an electric car by this year, but I still haven't gotten it even though I've put a deposit down! Can you believe it?"

"How horrible!" you reply nervously. You turn to face the steering wheel again while debating whether you should open your door and make a run for it.

"I know, right?"

There's a very long, awkward pause before you speak up.

"So- the explosives in my trunk- are they-?"

"Don't ask about that," he interrupts, pressing a forefinger to his lips, "It'll ruin Batman's surprise!"

"Okay-."

----

It got to the point where your clients would ask for you specifically, so the company you worked for simply gave you a free phone and gave everyone the number. Soon enough, the resident superheroes and vigilantes caught wind of your work and decided to utilise your services themselves.

----

"Hey Y/N! How's business?"

"There's never a dull moment, Nightwing, I'll tell you that."

"Good to hear...good to hear." The black and blue vigilante pauses and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Hey, could you let a man catch a ride to the docks?"

"Why can't you get there yourself?" you ask, leaning out the driver-side window.

"I- uh- I broke my grapple hook."

You gasp. "Ohhh shit. The Bat isn't going to take that well."

"Trust me, I know." Nightwing replies, groaning.

"Fine, but I'm charging you 15% extra because you didn't call in advance. I'm a busy person, you know."

"What?" he exclaims, "That's daylight robbery!"

"It's 3am, Batboy. Cough up or I'll make it 20."

--

"Hey Y/N!"

"What's with all the Speedsters needing taxis? Couldn't you just get there yourself?"

"A man needs his rest, right?" The Flash replies, shooting you a toothy grin.

"That doesn't even make any- y'know what? I shouldn't of asked."

--

"You too?" you begin, "What, did you break your grapple hook as well?"

"What?" Red Robin questions, "No. Red Hood and Robin are annoying me and you're the only one they like enough to leave alone."

"They like me🥹?"

"We all do. You're surprised?" he responds, raising a brow.

"That's so sweet, oh my goodness."

"Wait- who broke their grapple hook?" Tim asks, looking at you quizzically. At that, you slap your hand over your mouth and instead speak through your fingers.

"No comment."

--

"Run out of juice again, Lantern?"

"Okay- this time it wasn't my fault," Hal replies, slamming the door of your taxi shut.

"Keep telling yourself that buddy."

----

There have been many awkward occasions where your services have been double-booked, which has led to some, uh- peculiar interactions to say the least.

----

"Oh yes, of course! If you oxidise the Kryptonite and make a compound of it with my fear gas, it would probably work on a Kryptonian," Crane waffles.

"Wonderful!" Luthor replies, clapping his hands together. "How much?"

"I beg your pardon?" the psychologist asks.

"How much money do you want for you to synthesise such a concoction?"

"With all due respect, Mr Luthor," you pipe up, "If you continue this conversation while I'm here, I may be arrested."

"How come?"

"Guilt by association."

--

"But you're a Speedster, right? How come you're-?"

"Don't bother asking him. They never give you a straight answer."

Thawne grins, "At least someone here has half a brain."

"How dare you!" the Riddler gasps, "I'll have you know I'm the smartest rogue in all of Gotham. You tell 'em, Y/N!"

"..."

"They seem to disagree," the speedster chuckles.

"What? Oh c'mon! Who do you think is the smartest rogue in Gotham then?"

"Poison Ivy," you reply immediately.

--

"Y'know, I should probably throw you in Arkham."

"Now where's the fun in that, Hood? Besides, I ain't doin' nothin' wrong!"

"You're covered in blood that isn't your own and holding a decapitated head."

"He was in the car when I got here!"

You whip around in your seat. "Harley, if you get blood on my seats I swear to God-."

----

And this is all fine and dandy until you catch the attention of three of arguably the most famous superheroes known to mankind, and they're not here to ask you to take them on holiday.

"You are under arrest under suspicion of harbouring dangerous criminals," Wonder Woman begins, towering above your tiny taxi. "Anything you say or do will be held against you in a court of-"

"Harbouring criminals?" you interrupt, "Since when?"

"I strongly suggest you don't play dumb now. This is a serious offense and unless you want to be thrown in Blackgate you need to listen to us." Batman states, staring menacingly at you with his arms crossed.

"I am listening to you, Batman, you aren't listening to me."

Superman attempts to mediate the situation. "Well then, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"You are aware that members of your Justice League have been using my services, right?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You heard me--" you continue before turning to the Caped Cruisader, "--And your own children have also been enlisting my help from time to time."

"Preposterous," Batman scoffs.

"Is it? Nightwing has me on speed dial if you want me to prove it to you."

"..."

"That's what I thought."

"This doesn't excuse the fact that you are harbouring criminals," Diana states.

"Criminals? What criminals?"

Superman sighs. "The records at your agency show that you have been helping people such as Poison Ivy, Lex Luthor, Scarecrow, Reverse Flash, and other criminals."

You wave your hand at the trio dismissively. " The only name I recognise from that list is Lex Luthor, and he has not been trialed for any crimes that I know of."

"He has been charged for multiple crimes in the past. Do you not realise this?" Clark replies, his eye beginning to twitch slightly.

"Supes, I am a taxi driver working at minimum wage. Do you really think I can afford a TV?"

"You have a phone, do you not?" Batman asks.

"Yeah, with a whole 16 megabytes of storage on it," you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

And with that, they leave you be. Superman and Wonderwoman shoot into the air and Batman follows suit with his grapple hook. You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding and lean into the driver's seat. You stay there for a few minutes, contemplating what to have for breakfast tomorrow before your phone starts ringing once again. You smile as you read the name on your screen before quickly swiping the screen to answer it.

"Darkseid! How can I help?"

Masterlist

#batfamily #dc comics #gotham #metropolis #central city #dc #batman #superman #wonder woman #green lantern #the flash #red hood #red robin #nightwing #mr mxyzptlk #harley quinn #poison ivy #riddler #darkseid #reverse flash #zoom #scarecrow #i might have missed some people but you get the idra #there's a lot of people lol

[sweetiesicheng]

johnny - museum

word count : 552

-

you walked around the new exhibit in the art museum that had opened up in town. you looked at each piece as you passed by them in the room you were in and enjoyed the quaint atmosphere of the museum. there were quite a few people at the museum since it was the grand opening of the exhibit, but the minimal conversations kept the place at ease.

you walked into the next room, where paintings and different artworks lined the walls. you walked around the room a bit before taking a seat at a bench in the center of the room, enjoying the perfect view of the room.

"first time here?" someone spoke to you.

you looked to your side and saw a guy sitting on the bench, facing the opposite direction from you. you looked back at the two paintings in front of you.

"yes and no, i've been here plenty of times when i was younger, but i haven't been to this exhibit yet," you replied. "what about you?"

"no, actually, i have the day off, but i didn't want to be in my apartment all day long so i've been going to different places today," the guy replied. "i read that the artist for this exhibit came from spain to do a few installation pieces and has a whole exhibit to herself. the installation pieces looked really cool when i saw them earlier."

"the installation pieces?" you asked and looked at him.

"yea, one of them is this wall of flowers and it looks so cool," he looked at you and spoke with enthusiasm.

you recalled what piece he was talking about and slightly chuckled while looking forward again, "i'm glad to have met someone who enjoys art as much as i do."

"i'm glad that i did, too. i really like it here," the guy said to you.

you looked at the time, "i'll be walking around. it was nice talking to you," you said to him and stood up.

"it was nice talking to you, too. see you around," he smiled and looked forward again.

you walked around the room at the rest of the paintings and exited the room. you went into another room that was full of floral pieces, which was the main point of the entire exhibit.

not too many people were in this part of the exhibit, so you could examine each piece in quiet.

you stood in front of a piece and realized something.

i guess i could've thrown more paint onto that corner, or maybe i should've added more flowers instead.

"judging your own art?" you looked to your side and saw the guy from earlier.

you smiled, "when did you realize?"

"i passed by a picture of you," he answered. "you're an amazing artist," he complimented you.

"thank you. that means a lot to me,” you replied with a smile.

"hey, would you want to get a cup of coffee or something?" he suddenly asked, taking his hands out of his jacket pockets.

"coffee? sure, but only if you tell me your name," you replied.

"oh, i'm sorry. my name is johnny," he introduced himself.

"well, johnny, let's go."

both of you walked out of the exhibit and out of the museum to head towards a local coffee shop together.

#sweetiesicheng #sweetiesicheng nct #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct 2020 #nct 2021 #nct suh johnny #nct johnny #johnny x you #nct 127 johnny #suh johnny #seo johnny #johnny x reader #johnny fanfiction #johnny #johnny seo #johnny suh #johnny x y/n #johnny fanfic #johnny x fanfic #nct x fanfic #nct x y/n #nct x you #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nctzen #kpop

[tarnished-doll]

[G] that one time morgott found family in the sewers

i've had 'morgott and godrick Need to have a positive family interaction at least once' stuck in my craw for a while, so i wrote a lil something about it. its not much, but its an excuse to ease me into morgott stuff and get to write pathetic rich boy godrick

-

The news of Godwyn’s death didn’t reach Morgott right away, and by the time it did, it meant little to him. He only knew of their relation, not of the man himself. As for the impact it had on the world, it didn’t penetrate the depths of the Shunning Grounds until the Omen found the magic keeping him confined had waned. Even then he knew not of what transpired, but he did now know a taste of freedom.

Freedom of a sort, at least. Going outside was still a milestone he had yet to cross; outside was blinding, crawling with people, and most of all it was not somewhere he deserved to be. But the sewers were open to him now, and that meant his world was a little bit bigger than it used to be.

The Shattering didn’t start overnight. There was a mourning period, first; Morgott witnessed the funeral from one of the few vantage points he had, peeking behind his fingers as the Erdtree blinded him. He knew nothing of the ceremony’s purpose, nor of the man it was for. Then, there were the whispers of discontent that drifted in from sewer grates under busy streets. Marika withdrew to the Erdtree - or perhaps it imprisoned her by force. 

From the point of view of both the free folk on the surface and the sewer-dwelling Omen, they saw the same thing: a mighty, blinding tree, holding a woman that none of them will ever see. Who did something that wouldn’t affect them in their lifetime. Years passed. The light from looking up the manholes and wells became more tolerable, slowly, as Morgott willed himself to bear it and the overwhelming notion of the outside world. Sometimes, he could almost peek his head out of one at night.

The hulking Omen knew the maze-like sewers well enough that he could tell which part of Leyendell he was under at any given time. The noble quarter occasionally yielded food thrown out by those rich enough to be wasteful. Some of it was barely even moldy, if fortune smiled on him that day. Even if he felt undeserving of it, Morgott still desired small comforts and joys.

He waited for the chance of that small joy of not having to eat rats or go hungry, watching the light outside through the grating of a well. Slowly, it inched across the filthy stonework until it hit a marker etched into the wall. Morgott braced himself, and prayed to the source of that light that he did not lose count of the days again and missed this opportunity.

… The scraps didn’t come, as the light of the Erdtree passed the mark entirely. Morgott resigned himself to the taste of raw rat.

Then, one of the manholes further down the line opened with a lot of scuffling, clattering, and the faint sound of jeering laughter. Morgott instinctively hid around a bend in the tunnel, just in time to watch a shrilly protesting figure get shoved into the sewers. 

Morgott’s heart dropped when he heard the screaming cut off with the thump of dead weight hitting stone. The laughing from above continued as the manhole cover was laboriously pushed back into place. Thankfully, the fallen figure was still alive, as they tried to sit up with a whine. Morgott cautiously peered behind the bend at them.

It seemed to be a child, though Morgott was already so large that it may as well have been an adult. The kid’s voice broke as he tried to cry out to whoever pushed him in in the first place, pleading. “Guys c’mon, this isn’t funny anymore!”

He waited, and received dull silence. The Omen hoped, too, that somebody would take pity on the child and come back for him.

“G-Godwyn…?” The boy halfheartedly tried to shout towards the manhole, trailing off as despair crept up on his face. He looked around the dreadful surroundings like a death sentence. Nobody was coming, it seemed.

Steeling himself, Morgott went ahead and stepped forward. Exactly as he expected, he received an ear splitting shriek. 

“An Omen!” The boy tried helplessly to crawl away from him, weakly kicking his legs out from under the rich fabric of his robes. He held what seemed to be a staff up as a vain attempt to shield himself. “No-no-no, y-you don’t want to eat me - I’m very underweight you see, I don’t have any meat on my bones at all-”

“Calm yourself, boy. I won’t eat you.” Morgott’s voice was hoarse from misuse. It had been a long time since he had to use it, ever since his brother took the opportunity to leave.

The boy was a pallid, scrawny thing underneath robes that probably served to hide his slight frame, now serving to keep him weighed down as they soaked up fetid water. It wasn’t the only thing keeping him from standing up without tremendous effort on his part; as Morgott recognized he wasn’t leaning heavily on a staff, but a cane.

Still, the boy endeavored to get to his feet. His blonde hair was stained a filthy greenish-brown on one side, from where he hit the wet floor. Morgott waited patiently for him to at least stand up properly, but a cry and the buckling of the youth’s knees sent him back to the ground.

The Omen lent him a cautious hand. It was regarded with a mixture of terror and surprise as the boy searched Morgott’s face for any hint of his intentions. Morgott gave him a hopeful attempt at a smile, unsure if showing his teeth would be a threat.

“Look, I’m not going to eat you. I can get you out of here, if you let me help.”

“You’re not going to eat me…?” the boy sounded… strangely disappointed, as though he felt like inedibility was a failure on his part. Morgott’s smile broadened, hopefully not showing his fangs.

“No, no; you don’t look like a rat at all.”

A frail little hand took his, dwarfed by the Omen’s callused gray fingers. Morgott tried to pull the boy to his feet, but a sharp hiss of a gasp made him hold one foot up, pulling back the hem of his robes to find the ankle already swelling up. He groaned. “Aw, not again.”

Morgott kept him steady as he balanced on his good foot, using his cane as further leverage. “Can you walk?”

“Not anymore.” The thin boy grumbled, his disappointment in himself taking precedence over his fear.

“Ah,” Morgott felt sympathy for the lad, and held out his other hand. “I can carry you, if necessary.”

“No, no. I can do it. I’m fine.” The boy suddenly wrenched his hand away from Morgott’s, and he immediately wavered unsteadily on one uninjured foot and the point of his cane. “I don’t need your help, I don’t need to be carried.”

The Omen withdrew a half-step. “Alright, fine; start walking, then.”

The boy wobbled where he stood. He was quick to try and reach for Morgott again before he could fall. This time, he didn’t refuse as the Omen scooped him up like he weighed nothing. Beyond the mortal fear of being trapped in the dark, beyond the inherent frightfulness of the monster carrying him, he seemed more ashamed of himself than anything.

Morgott felt responsible, by virtue of his cursed existence. “I’m sorry to make you walk, that was cruel of me.”

In the fading traces of light that seeped through into the sewers, Morgott saw the same golden glint in the lad’s eyes that he had in his own. “You’re awfully polite for an Omen.”

Morgott, not expecting the compliment, flashed a mouthful of sharp teeth when he smiled.

With the boy’s condition, it wasn’t going to be as simple as lifting him out and putting him back on the surface where he came from. Morgott needed to navigate to one of the service entrances to the sewers, and he hoped that no Omens that actually would eat the child would cross their path.

The boy was still uncomfortable being carried, but he seemed used to it enough to not squirm or slip out of Morgott’s grasp. He held his cane in the crook of his arm; it was gilded, as ostentatious as the gold thread trimming his robes and the gold rings on the ends of his braids. He fidgeted with one as he glanced between the darkness he couldn’t see through, and the Omen who could.

“So, um,” his wavering voice echoed off the tunnels, “my name’s Godrick. Do… Do you have a name?”

“Morgott.” The Omen he was at the mercy of looked down at him with his one good eye. “Who pushed you down here?”

“My cousins.” Godrick sighed. “Godwyn put them up to it, as usual.”

That was a familiar name, amongst so few Morgott knew of people he would never meet. “Godwyn?”

“Yeah, Godwyn the Third.”

Morgott’s growing suspicions were confirmed. “You’re of the Golden Lineage?”

Godrick scoffed, offended. The wavering in his voice instantly faded. “Well of course I am! I’ll have you know I am the trueborn heir of Leyendell by law of succession! Not that oversized brat that thinks he can get away with pushing me around!”

The boy had a set of lungs on him, when it came down to it. Morgott winced at the echo carrying down the long, dark maze. “You should be more quiet, I’m not the only Omen down here.”

“O-oh. Sorry.”

Godrick was quiet for a while, afterwards. When he spoke up again, it was in a squeaky whisper. “You know, I didn’t know Omens could talk.”

Morgott frowned. “Is that so?”

“Well I mean… who taught you, then? Aren’t you all sent down here as babies?”

“My father did.” Morgott gave the boy a withering glare. “And I hear my share of conversations from near the streets. We’re not animals down here.”

Most of them weren’t, anyway. Morgott wondered in vain if he could at least convince this little lordling to have some empathy for those below him. This little… nephew? Was he an uncle now?

Godrick looked down intersecting sewer lines as they passed them; long tunnels leading to other parts of the city, all but obscured in shadow. Occasionally, errant noises echoing down them made him flinch. Morgott hadn’t been small enough to really fear anything down here for a long time. Even the floods were something he was too tall to succumb to, now.

“Tell me, little lord,” Morgott tried to take the boy’s mind off of his anxiety, “how many generations are you from Godfrey?”

Godrick’s eyes lit up at the prospect of bragging, but he ended up having to pause and think it out, counting on his fingers. “three- no, wait, four generations. Well, maybe three because granddad married his second cousin-”

“That’s- that’s enough information, thank you.”

It seemed that much more time had passed down here than Morgott figured. That, and he was much, much older than he realized.

The pride Godrick had on his face faded, and now he just looked ashamed again. “I know I don’t look it. All my cousins say I shouldn’t be in the succession ‘cos of my conditions. That I should’ve been thrown… down here.”

“Like an Omen.” Morgott’s eye narrowed, clenching his jaw as he focused on just moving forward.

“Yeah.”

Of course those on the surface would not save their revulsion for only the cursed. Any perceived flaw was just the next rung on the ladder. Even so, if this boy was an heir, Morgott faintly wondered if that spared him from the worst scorn, unlike the fate of an Omen. Or maybe it just came with its own set of miseries.

“Do they frequently mistreat you like this?”

“Well, yeah - they’re family. They can get away with it.” Godrick’s reedy voice dripped with resentment. “But when I hit my growth spurt, they’re going to be sorry.”

“I see.” This was probably the least threatening out of any of Godfrey’s kin, but Morgott wasn’t going to hold it against the boy.

“I’m serious. I’m going to be huge. It’s going to happen any day now.”

“After your ankle heals, I assume.”

Godrick reached over to feel around blindly for his injured ankle, wincing as he felt how swollen the joint had become. “It’s not broken; I know what that feels like well enough. I’m just having a bad pain day on top of it, is all - I could definitely walk otherwise, I swear.”

“I believe you.” Morgott assured, however halfheartedly. “Are you usually so prone to injury?”

“I have a ‘delicate constitution’.” The little lordling pouted in his arms. “But I’m not delicate. I’m in pain all the time and I still manage to live with it, that doesn’t make me ‘delicate’.”

“So they know not of your suffering?”

“They think I’m faking it, most of the time.” Godrick peered into the darkness, barely able to make out the outline of the Omen’s twisted, asymmetrical horns. “But I’m not, honest.”

Morgott nodded noncommittally. “I can see that.”

The light from the occasional storm drains leading to the streets above had faded as twilight set in, though the glow of the Erdtree was eternal. Morgott was coming up to the service entrance that led to a canal. The pipe terminated in a grate that was removable, with a thin ledge and a set of stairs that led back up to the streets. The canopy light coming in from it bounced off the damp, moldering walls and brought slightly more definition to the world around them, the closer they approached. Morgott still had to squint.

“Here we are.” The Omen grimaced from the light as he went up to the exit, stopping just short of it. “I can’t… I can’t leave, but you can get the attention of the guard they keep posted up there.”

Hopefully, Morgott thought; he remembered moments of hearing people from up above scream in vain for rescue even in broad daylight, only to be ignored and left to bleed into the gutters. Godrick squirmed in his grasp, trying to peer through the grating. He welcomed the light, he was born in it. To come back to it after being deprived even for a short while was a relief to him.

Morgott shifted the boy’s weight to cradle him with one arm with just as much ease as two so he could wrench the grate open. The screech of metal against stone rang harshly through the tunnels, no doubt alerting anyone outside as well. As carefully as he could, he lowered Godrick to the ground.

The boy gingerly tried to put weight on his injured ankle, still holding onto Morgott’s arm with a free hand. “You better be right. I can’t crawl my way back home again, I’ll get in trouble for breaking curfew.”

“You have people waiting for you.” Very carefully, Morgott tried to give him a pat on the shoulder. It still nearly toppled the poor kid. The corner of the Omen’s mouth twitched in amusement. “And if your cousins try this again, bring them to me and I’ll eat them.”

That brought a smile to the boy’s pale face, illuminated by the light of the surface. Godrick tried to stand a little sturdier with his cane. “Um, my father says I shouldn’t talk to Omens, and that the lesser beings aren’t worth my time or thanks… but I’m just not going to tell him about you. So, thank you.”

That was… good enough. Morgott didn’t expect their encounter would be impactful among a lifetime’s worth of Golden Order ideology. He had to close his eye as he dared to lean out of the mouth of the tunnel, and blindly led the hobbling boy to the relative safety of the ledge. Squinting, he could already make out civilians on the street above them, living their own lives in the light.

Morgott’s sensitivity to the light made it hard to tell what happened to the boy after that, as the Omen retreated back to his familiar darkness. But he could hear, very clearly, Godrick’s shrill voice demanding someone aid the trueborn heir of Leyendell.

#my fanfiction #elden ring #godrick the grafted #morgott the omen king

[crymeariveronceagain]

Heyyyyyyyy, how does an aspiring author, who has nothing better to do than browse ao3 get views on their fanfic? Thanks in advance for helping :)

Oki doki, so first of all, the most views I have on a fic is like... 4k something. But, i guess, here are the tips i've got.

Tag everything. I mean this. This is how most people go through ao3, and I definitely won't click on a fic that has like 4 tags. This is gonna help people stumble across your work at random. For instance, some days I'll just browse the "Hurt/Comfort" tag with a few more filters put on it to avoid the stuff I don't wanna read. So, just go to town on your tags. Especially bigger branches like "Angst" or "Hurt/Comfort" or "Found Family" or something. I usually tag a bunch of specifics too, because at least I like to know what I'm getting in to before I start reading a fic.

Good description that doesn't pull something out of the actual story. You can totally put a quote from your story as your description. That's not such a big deal. But the good description definitely is. Try and make the story set up as quickly and simply as possible. Make it open ended, so that people want to read more. Don't provide the solution to your one-shot in the description, that just makes people not want to read it. Keep things vague, if you're gonna talk about them. For instance, what I do with the little "AKA" descriptions at the end is kind of just point out reasons you'd want to read this, or what your take-aways will be at the end. I usually try to set up the main conflict without talking about the ending too much, so that the reader just wants to know where the conflict is going, and is curious to see how it ends. Of course, I'm not super great at this, either. Descriptions are REALLY. FREAKING. HARD. But they're a huge factor into whether or not someone will click on your fic.

Popular ship or fandom. This doesn't apply to me, because I write for the KOTLC fandom, mostly, and we're honestly a really small community, as far as fandoms online go. If you're writing for MHA, or the MCU, or Supernatural, or Harry Potter, or something like that, you instantly have access to a ton more readers, just because the scope of fans and readers on ao3 is just so much bigger. So, yeah. Instantly boost your view count by writing for a really popular fandom. Just be careful. The bigger the fandom, the larger the group of toxic people.

Good first line. Yeah, another hard one. But this is important too! Once you've got someone to click on your fic, you actually want them to read it. Here are my tips for good first lines.

Don't start with a character waking up. It's not a bad way to begin, but it doesn't hook the reader.

Don't start with a dream. This will throw the reader off as far as it comes to reality within your work of fiction. Plus it's really annoying. You can talk about dreams later.

Start in the middle of the action. Like, whatever set up you were thinking before the action starts? Cut that in half. Cut it in half again. Start it where the story starts, or maybe a tiny bit before that. At most. Don't be afraid to get the ball rolling immediately. It pulls the reader in with the promise of action, and keeps it going.

Make the character make some small decision very early on. If you're really stuck, make the character make a choice. Have them consider two options, or maybe more, if it's easy enough, and then have them make their choice and then do it, make them stick with it. Even if they have already made a choice and they have to keep on choosing it, this works. This will keep people reading. At least, I think it does.

and most importantly

3rd person pov

Proper grammar

And double spaced paragraphs.

These three things are so important, and everything else will get thrown out the window if a fanfic reader can't consume the fic like it's a milkshake they purchased at the nearby Chick Fil A.

Like, if I started The Princess and The Popstar like:

I wrote better lyrics when I was drunk. Well maybe not, like full on drunk but a little tipsy. I'd had about two shots of vodka, which wasnt like a lot as far as I can hold my liquor anyways but it makes everything sound better. Especially my crappy songs.

I feel like it would have been a lot less popular. Especially because on ao3, if you don't double space your paragraphs, it looks like a chunk of text and is really hard to read easily.

You can also definitely take grammatical liberties! I'm partial to run on sentences and sentence fragments in order to talk about things in specific ways! But! a lot of little errors(especially right in the beginning) is not going to make your work consumable like the ice cream cone McDonalds never makes you. Especially commas. Those things are so important. Like, I'm sure I don't know how to use them properly always, but they're really important to help the reader understand the flow of the sentence and stay with you til the end of the paragraph.

Anyways. These are my tips! Hope these helped!

Feel free to send me another ask!

#fanfic writing #fanfiction writer #fanfiction tips #writing tips #writing #ao3 #writer things #writeblr #writing community #creative writing #fanfic writer #thanks for the ask! #fic writing #writers #writerscommunity

[monstermaster13]

Name: Matthias T.Radke/Werebelushi In Shades.

Species: I am a Werebelushi.

Gender: Male.

Theme Song: Ruthless People.

Personality: On screen as my reviewer persona I am brash, aggressive, and in your face but outside of my persona I am very much just a nice everyday person, it's just i've got limits on what I can and can't allow.

Likes: Reviewing good media that is requested to me by friends including movies, comics, characters, etc, doing comedy skits with my friends, helping my friends, slaying the forces of evil, watching SNL.

Dislikes: Bad movies, bad remakes, bad adaptations of tv shows, bad sequels or prequels, bad fanfiction, having to do reviews of anything involving that certain annoying bird (I keep insisting I don't want to do them but my producers are assholes and they keep making me do it, I want them to get fired but I apparently can't fire them because they know what gets good views, they know my viewers love the rants and outbursts, they want to see me inflict pain on these terrible pieces of media, they are sadistic, yes.. but trust me, it's a good thing I don't drink because given how many times i've reviewed Ciel's shit already I would have likely died from alcohol poisoning by now), people who say I do nothing but complain…look, it's their fault they cannot handle criticism, even if they think they are above criticism they still have the need to try and act like i'm in the wrong for having a different opinion, people these days are just so oversensitive, like I could say that I hate Forrest Gump and I guarantee one person on twitter is likely going to be 'please block this man, he hates forrest gump, he is a Tom Hanksophobe.'

Love interest: Don't have one.

Friends: Mel, Eucalyptus, Nathan, and all my viewers.

Biggest pet peeve: Yeah i'm sorry but I cannot stand people who think I complain too much, like dude i'm a reviewer, it's my job to critique things and yeah I cannot stand certain things like forced mind control, when suiting is used in a transformation and doesn't go anywhere apart from trapping someone in a suit (putting on a suit made to look like a Pokemon and transforming because of it only for nothing to happen isn't a tf, it's a dude in a costume, not a real tf, it doesn't count, that is just a human in a kigurumi/onesie that looks like a Pokemon that transforms him and that's it, it's just lazy if you ask me, look can't anyone just make a monster that DOESN'T use suiting as a method? I am just asking…why couldn't it just have been a symbiote or something?), anything with diapers, fat characters being made the butt of the joke, etc and well if you don't like my opinions maybe you shouldn't be complaining, Nathan does the positive reviews, I do the negative stuff and for a good reason. Because that's what Nathan's lists are for. I have positive opinions too, you know, and I DO contribute, thank you very much, by getting rid of the trash of this universe. I am the trash-man, I pick up the trash that gets thrown around here and throw it out all over and then pick it up again, then I start eating the garbage, then I bash someone over the head.

Best friends: Mel, Nathan.

Favorite video game: Dead by Daylight, MK11.

Favorite food: Difficult to say…I have many favorites.

Favorite color: Hard to say.

Favorite TV Show: SNL, SCTV, Grimm, Twin Peaks, Hell's Kitchen, Face-Off, Masked Singer, Blackadder, X-Factor.

Favorite Movies: Blues Brothers, any 80's era horror movie, The Godfather trilogy, Demolition Man, From Dusk Till Dawn, Bad Taste, Meet the Feebles, Evil Dead franchise, Maniac Cop, Terror Toons, Beetlejuice.

[softxsuki]

urgent request!! can i request midnight comforting her student beacuse she got a bad grade from an exam that she studied really hard for? the reader is very hard working and always studies but cant help but has a panic attack when she learns and her parents don't do anything to help so she goes to her? later they check the papers and turns out she didn't get a low grade? i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense i just had a panic attack and i can't think clearly but im hoping that my teacher mixed the papers bc i worked really hard for my exam😕 thank you and good day/night!

Midnight Comforting Student!Reader After She Fails Her Exam

Pairings: Midnight x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: mentions of panic attack, failing an exam

Genre: Comfort

Post-Type: Drabble

Word Count: 990

Summary: In which you fail an exam, which sends you into a full blown panic attack. You go to talk to your teacher, Midnight, about it and she realizes she made a mistake when grading.

[A/N: Hi anon! Hoping you're feeling better now :( I know how terrible it feels to do horribly on an exam that you worked so hard to study for. Don't be so hard on yourself! I'm out of school now and I honestly regret all the anxiety and panic that went into all my assignments. We can only do out best, and that is more than enough. I hope it was just a mix-up though, so talk to your teacher about it! I wasn’t really sure what you meant by “reader has a panic attack when she learns” when she taught something? Or when she learns of her failing grade? I took it as the second one, so I hope that’s okay! I've never received a request for Midnight before, so that was pretty interesting. My apologies if she's out of character :') Hope she can provide you with some comfort through this drabble <3 take care and don't worry. everything will definitely turn out okay!]

NOTE: I only write requests for Midnight that are platonic :3

You drag yourself through the halls of UA, one hand clutching your chest as you struggle to breathe.

Please still be there.

After checking your grades online for the exam that you had been worrying about, your whole world came tumbling down when you saw your failing mark. You were confused, hurt, and devastated. How was it possible that you failed the exam when you spent every waking moment studying to prepare for it? Did all your hard work go to nothing? You couldn’t wait another moment without knowing if your grade was true or not, so you left your dorm with tears in your eyes, overthinking the whole way to the main building.

Which leads to where you are now, mid-panic attack, struggling down the UA hallways, looking for your teacher, Midnight's classroom; hoping and praying that she was still around so you could talk to her about your grade. You must have looked like a mad woman with tears running down your face as you gasp for air, trying but failing to control your spiral of worrying thoughts that came tumbling down on you.

Thankfully the school was already emptying out as students left for the day so there weren’t that many concerned glances thrown your way.

Midnight's classroom eventually comes into view, so you pick up your pace, needing answers to your worries as quickly as possible.

You force the door open, and desperately look around, but there’s no sign of her. Frustration wells up inside you and you drop to the ground, heavy tears falling down your face as your loud sobs echo in the hallway.

“Y/L/N? Are you alright sweetheart?”

Your head snaps in the direction of the sudden voice and hope seems to fill you again as you’re face to face with the one you’d been looking for, Midnight.

“Senseiii,” you cry out in relief, but more tears seem to fall on their own, “I thought you already left for the day.”

She walks over to and gives you a hand off the ground, wiping away a few of your dried tears before leading you to one of the desks so you can take a seat.

“I was just about to head home actually, but I heard crying and came to check what was happening. Then I found you,” she explains, taking a seat beside you at another desk, crossing her legs, “Now tell me, what happened? Why are you in my classroom crying?”

“The exam,” you start anxiously, bobbing your legs up and down, “I failed it. I worked so hard every single day, giving up hours of sleep and precious time to study for that exam and I just checked my grades and I failed it. I’m freaking out right now.”

Midnight knew how hard you worked as a student to make sure your grades were always high. You were at the top of the class, scoring well on every assignment due to your hard work, so to hear that you had failed was very surprising.

“There’s no way that’s right,” she hums in thought before jumping up from the desk, heading to her main desk at the front of the classroom, “Come with me.”

You follow her over to her desk, a glimmer of hope bubbling in your chest.

She unlocks one of the drawers at her desk and takes out a stack of papers, shuffling through them quickly, “It should be here somewhere,” she mumbles, continuing to flip through the papers until she stops on one, “Aha! Here.”

She hands you the paper and you see that it’s the physical copy of the exam that you had taken, but instead of a failing grade, you see a perfect score written at the top of your paper.

“This is mine?” you question, stunned at the grade in front of you.

“Mhm. I must have accidentally put someone else's grade in under your name. I’m sorry that led to you freaking out Y/L/N.”

You wipe away the remainder of your dried tears, relieved that you not only passed the exam, but received a perfect score!

You smile at her, “It’s okay. I’m glad I came over to ask you about it instead of worrying alone in my dorm. Thank you Sensei.”

“Of course sweetheart. I’m here if you ever need anything,” she places a comforting hand on top of your own and gives you a small smile, “But let’s try and not let your grades affect you like that again. You’re incredibly hardworking and intelligent; your grades don’t speak for you. I have many students who are just like you, but on the day of exams, they get so nervous that they forget everything they’ve studied and ultimately bomb it. So just keep up the great work and don’t fret over small things like an exam. You’ll look back at your school days and question why you took it so seriously.”

“That’s easier said than done, but I guess I could try to ease up a bit. I don’t really want to panic like that again, especially not over my grades–that was a horrible feeling,” you sigh, glad that you could breathe freely again.

“I’m sure it was. You’ll be okay though. You’re going to make it through the school year just fine, so don’t worry about a thing. Come to me if you find any more issues or if you’d just like to talk to someone about what’s on your mind, okay?”

“I will,” you smile, thankful to Midnight for being such a supportive teacher; something you didn’t receive back home from your parents, “Thank you again Sensei.”

“No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow then, get some rest!”

“Will do, see you tomorrow,” you say, walking happily back down the halls with your exam held proudly in your hands.

You were just glad that at least all your hard work turned out to be worth it.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 1/1/2022

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #midnight x reader #nemuri kayama #midnight #mha midnight #bnha #mha #platonic #mha comfort #bnha comfort #midnight comfort #mha drabbles #bnha drabble #midnight drabbles #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #midnight fanfic

[muselin]

See You Later - Part 1

Who: Beomgyu

Group: TXT

What: Beomgyu/f!reader, collegeAU, slow burn, eventual smut, college student!Gyu, model!Gyu

Word count: 2,238

A/N: this is for @bluekais ❤ Hope you enjoy! Sorry that it's taken so long! There will be a Part 2 coming but I got myself elbows-deep into Kinktober so might take a while as well 🎃

____________________________________

"Tch."

The dissatisfied noise leaving your lips had become habit by now. Just his presence annoyed you, but the fact that he had the nerve to show up late to class almost every time, carrying that stupid skateboard, made your blood boil a little bit. He never studied, never did the assignments, always showed up late and he was still somehow passing this class. This class that you had worked so hard to get into and had to keep working so hard to stay in. It didn't come naturally to you but it did to him and it made you green with envy.

"Ah, Beomgyu-ssi, how kind of you to join us," your professor quipped sarcastically as Beomgyu beamed a smile that was frustratingly charming and headed for the only empty space in the auditorium which, to your displeasure, happened to be next to you.

You didn't acknowledge each other as you continued scribbling furiously into your notebook while Beomgyu sat with his chin leaned on his hand. You noticed that he hadn't taken out anything to write with.

"Now I will hand out your assignments for the next lecture. Remember we have study week, so you will have one week to complete these. Please remain in your seats as you are now."

Your professor proceeded to hand out stacks of papers and you couldn't help noticing that he was handing only one stack for every two students. He was making his way down your row and dropped off an assignment right between you and Beomgyu.

"I can hold it for us," Beomgyu smiled pleasantly as he looked over to you, seemingly unaffected by your sour expression. As the two of you read the instructions for the music production assignment, Beomgyu would stop and mutter to himself every once in a while: "Hmm, I already have a bass guitar for this," "This would be very easy to add a snare to," "I just need vocals and someone to match the drum line to this".

"Alright, everyone ready?" The auditorium hummed with mumbled "yes"es.

"Good," your professor continued, "you will be doing the assignment in pairs, in the order that I've handed the assignments out to you".

You groaned inwardly, noticing yours and Beomgyu's names at the bottom right corner of the cover page.

"Class dismissed!"

You were unsure what to do. You'd have to spend quite a lot of time with Beomgyu to finish this but you didn't have his number and you didn't even know which dorm he was in. Before you could open your mouth to ask Beomgyu when you should meet up, he was getting up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"See you later, Y/N," his voice laced with his regional dialect reached you as an afterthought.

"Tch. Fuck you too, Choi," you muttered.

___________________

It had been four days since you last saw Beomgyu and you were getting nervous. You had started the assignment early and done as much as you could do. You hated to admit it but you really did need him for this. You had worked out a base melody but it was too bare and uninteresting and you knew from hearing him talk to himself that he knew a lot of elements which could add flare and points to the assignment. You hunched over your laptop, browsing the music library. Begrudgingly, at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday, you decided to email him through the university central email list.

### 22:01 ###  Hi Beomgyu, it's Y/N, your partner for the music production assignment. I've thrown some things together but we need to meet to do the rest. I realised I didn't have your number or your dorm address, let me know when we can meet up. ###

You waited for a while after pressing send, just in case he was on his emails right now. At midnight you gave up and went to sleep.

### 03:44 ### Hi! Sorry about that! Can you bring what you have over to mine at about noon tomorrow? Here's the postcode ###

You woke up to the reply from Beomgyu and nearly panicked that you would be late. He didn't live close by at all, the post code seemed to be for a swanky area of newly built apartments downtown, miles away from your suburban campus.

You showered and dressed as quickly as possible. You weren't dressing up for anyone. Jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt was all Beomgyu was getting from you. You grabbed your laptop and equipment and headed out the door.

________________

At 11:55, you knocked on Beomgyu's door. He lived on the 13th floor and on the elevator up to his apartment you hoped to whoever would listen that this wouldn't turn out to be as unlucky as the out-of-order sign on the second elevator.

The front door clicked and opened to reveal a somewhat sleepy Beomgyu, dressed in a tshirt and pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, Y/N, you're early," he said, then looked at his watch. You found this ironic, considering he never showed up to class on time.

"Well, not by much. Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said, opening the front door widely for you to walk in past him. "I'll make coffee," he yawned.

As you walked past him you couldn't help but note in your head that he smelled really good. You weren't sure if it was his cologne or laundry but it was the kind that settled pleasantly in your chest and made you want to breathe in deeper. You stopped that train of thought harshly as soon as you felt your mind drift that way. You were perfectly happy with feeling generally mildly annoyed with Beomgyu. It was your comfort zone, even if having to work with him was pushing it.

"So how come you don't live on camp-- Wow..."

Your jaw dropped as you walked into the apartment. It was nothing like the cramped dorm rooms you and your friends shared on campus. It was bright, spacious and well-decorated, with huge windows and a view that rivaled the best hotels in the business district.

"How the fuck are you affording this," the words tumbled out of you with little grace before you could stop them.

"Well, since you ask, I work a lot of side jobs," Beomgyu said nonchalantly as he poured water into the kettle in the open-plan kitchen.

"Really? What do you do?"

"Uhm...," he scratched his neck sheepishly, "at the moment I model."

"You? You model?"

"Yeah, why," he tilted his head at you, looking at you quizzically.

Those big brown eyes, the soft curves of his lips, his chiseled jawline... And his hair looked really soft too. Suddenly from thinking nothing of him you were imagining him as a model. You wondered what he modeled for. Could it be fashion brands? Lifestyle? Prints? Maybe even swimsuits? He always wore those baggy jeans and t-shirts, but maybe...

"Y/N?"

"Oh," you snapped back to him, realising you hadn't answered him. "Yeah I just... didn't know, that's all."

"Uhm, cool. Why don't you drop your stuff off in the room down the hall, the one on the left?"

You nodded and picked up your laptop bag and equipment, your feet sinking into the plush carpet as you padded down the hall. You nudged open the door to the room he'd pointed you to, jaw dropping again for the second time today as you walked in.

The room was a small makeshift studio, with mics, a sound control board and several guitars. Several notepads were strewn about along with a few used coffee mugs and muffin wrappers. It seemed to be the most lived-in space of Beomgyu's house so far and you were suddenly starting to understand why he never seemed to pay much attention to the classes. You dropped your bags off in the corner and sat down at his computer, looking at the various pieces of equipment connected to it.

"How do you like your coffee?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Beomgyu's pleasant voice reverberate in the room. You hadn't heard him come in after you. Covering up your startled reaction, you mumbled your preference and he returned shortly with two steaming mugs, setting them down on his desk.

"Um, so... For this assignment I've tried layering the melodies but it's very bare. I thought we could use it as a starting point and build on it," you said, trying to sound more businesslike.

"That's good, thanks. I actually don't have a lot of time so a head start would be good. I have an hour now but then I need to head out."

Your brow furrowed. An hour? It had taken you three days to put together what you had so far.

"Let's see what you've got," Beomgyu reached for the USB stick in your hands and plugged it into his computer. He downloaded the files and ran them.

An unobtrusive melody filled the small studio. He listened politely, head tilted to one side until it faded out.

"Um... Yeah, I don't play guitar so I wasn't sure what would sound good with that," you started, hands playing with the edges of your shirt nervously. You hated feeling incompetent, especially in front of Beomgyu.

"Yeah, no offence, but it does need a lot more than that," he said. "Let's see what I can do with that."

You sat in your chair and watched him plug one of his guitars into the amp behind you. He tuned it according to the scales in your melody and started to play along.

"Nana naaa," he hummed along quietly. "I don't know about that bar, what do you think," he asked you.

"It's not bad but I think it can go for longer," you replied. Beomgyu nodded, stopping the recording and starting again.

You watched him get lost in his own world as the notes coming from his guitar breathed life into your melody. You watched his fingers strum and pluck, watched his lips open and close in concentration, occasionally the lower one being worried by his teeth. You watched his long hair fall into his face. You simply watched Beomgyu in his zone, not noticing when he stopped playing.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes focused and met his deep brown ones, your lips tensing as you tried to seem attentive.

"Yeah? Yeah, that was good, let's add that in," you spoke quickly.

"Cool," Beomgyu then stood up and reached behind you to switch off the amp. You couldn't stop yourself from breathing in again when his chest and neck nearly brushed across your face. His warm hand dropped to your shoulder, giving you a casual pat.

"Why don't you sit at the computer and keep replaying the recoding while I write down the chords," he suggested.

"Okay, sure," you stood up in the cramped space and there was barely room for you two to switch places. Beomgyu's hands instinctively came up to your waist to steady you as he brushed past you. Your breath hitched but you said nothing as you sat down at his desk and started the recording.

Your combined melody filled the small room and you found yourself nodding along. You hated to admit it but you liked it much more with Beomgyu's additions. You played it several times while he wrote down the chords.

"Right, awesome," he drawled in his dialect after he was finished. "I have to get dressed and head out now, but if you want we can meet up again later today. I won't be done until quite late but I sleep late anyway."

"How late are we talking," you asked suspiciously.

"I would be done about 11, we could meet back here," Beomgyu offered.

You hesitated for a second. It was a lot later than what you considered acceptable but at the same time you didn't trust Beomgyu. You weren't sure you would get any more time out of him than this.

"Okay, deal. Message me when you're done and I'll head over."

"Cool, here's my number," Beomgyu grabbed your phone to type his own number in and called himself. "You okay to let yourself out?"

He left the studio and went into the room across, which you guessed was probably his bedroom. You copied the new files onto your USB before you packed up your things and left the studio as well. On the way you saw that Beomgyu's bedroom door was ajar. You saw him standing with his back to the door as he was pulling his t-shirt over his head. Your lips tensed into a line as you tried to not to make any noise and not even to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"See you later, Y/N."

You stood frozen in place as your eyes traced the lines of his back muscles to his pretty shoulders, not missing his toned arms flexing as he reached up to push the t-shirt over his head. Your gaze trailed back down his body to his hips where his bottoms were slung low, exposing the two cute dimples at his lower back. He didn't look like he was wearing anything underneath.

Beomgyu dropped his shirt to the floor and you suddenly darted down the corridor, panicked that he would turn around and see you. His bottoms dropped down just as he heard his front door open and shut.

#txt beomgyu #txt choi beomgyu #txt imagines #txt scenario #txt college au #txt au #txt fic #tomorrowxtogether #tomorrow x together #txt beomgyu imagines #txt beomgyu fluff

[tatestripedsweater]

Sweet Tooth

Plot: That you tell him you've never been able to cum from oral or fingering with a guy before and that you've practically given up hope. And him telling you "but I'm not like other guys" and making you cum with that vibration power! It feels like he would be so offended on the female's behalf, the cutie - Requested by Anon

Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warning: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk

Word Count: 1203

You hated the feeling of knowing you were practically depriving your own boyfriend from his sexual needs, Peter didn’t see it that way all in fact he was patient with you. It’s not like you were a virgin, but you were scared that once Peter went down on you that you wouldn’t be able to cum, you love him with all your being and the last thing you wanted to do was upset or offend him.

Peter's hand travelled up and under your shirt as his lips kissed at your neck, the smell of his cologne teased your nose and the feeling of him touching you the smell was enough for you to let out a quiet moan, but it was enough for him to hear.

Pulling away from your neck to look down at you, his hand moving from under your shirt, you could see the lust building in his eyes. A blush crept up onto your cheeks once you felt how hard he was in his trousers, like it was an instinct within him Peter started to grind his crotch against yours and as soon as you felt him rub against your clit a soft moan left your lips.

“You have no idea how long i've wanted to do this..” He murmured as he ground his crotch against yours even harder, you were only wearing a thin pair of underwear underneath your skirt and Peter seemed to use this as his advantage. “Just to feel you against me, have you whimpering under me..”

“P-Peter.. wait..” The nerves of previous experiences started to set in, you noticed the worried look on his face where you expected an angry expression to be. Peter pulled away almost instantly and started to panic that he had pushed you too far or what if you didn’t find him sexually attractive? “It’s just.. no guy I’ve been with has made me orgasm through oral or anything.. and I don’t want you to get mad or offended if you can’t make m-“

“Hold on” Peter interrupted you almost instantly, you went quiet at the look on his face and he actually looked rather offended and you felt the nerves sink into your system. “I’m not like other guys Y/N… you’re telling the guy with superhuman speed.. the guy that can vibrate parts of his body, that he can’t make you cum?”

Blushing darkly you just shrugged as you looked up at your boyfriend, you haven’t really thought of it that way and just saw him as a normal guy. You watched Peter take off his jacket along with his shirt and you couldn’t help but admire him, you had seen him shirtless before but the sight still brought you to be shy and red across the cheeks.

“Can I..?” Peter motioned to your crotch then looked back into your eyes, with your cheeks still bright red you nodded and watched his head disappear under your skirt. His lips kissed your inner thighs, nibbling slightly which made you whimper out his name. “That feel good baby? Just wait till my tongue and fingers are all over that sweet little cunt”

No man has ever spoken to you in a way he just did, and if you were being completely honest you liked it. Your pants got slightly heavier as you felt Peter’s hands pull down your underwear, the lace now hanging by your knees as he bent your legs back towards your chest, making your cunt in perfect view to his eyes.

“There she is..” You heard Peter mutter before he teased his tongue up your cunt, the small vibrations could be felt but it was enough to have your hips bucking, he was teasing you and Peter was enjoying hearing a soft whine fall from your lips. He felt like he was in heaven, having your legs pinned up to your chest as he had his mouth near your cunt, Peter felt his cock start to harden in his trousers but this wasn’t about him, this was about your pleasure.

The moment Peter’s tongue met your clit that’s when your moans started to get louder, your head back against the pillow as you gripped onto the bed sheets for dear life. Your cunt was getting even more wet the more he vibrates his tongue against your clit, adding some pressure with a slight smirk on your face as he could hear you, it was like music to his ears.

Peter teases your hole with his fore and middle finger with his tongue still vibrating against your clit, you were already making a mess on the bed, if he knew this is the way you would’ve reacted he would’ve suggested this a long time ago, but he didn’t want to push your boundaries. The vibrations on your clit could be heard and it was such an obscene noise, with how wet you were his fingers easily slid inside you, Peter was far from slow in his daily life so the boy wasn’t going to give you an easy ride.

“O-Oh Peter!” His name was moaned out as if it was a prayer, not only was he teasing your clit with his tongue but his fingers were going at a fast speed inside you, your hips started to jitter as he ground his own against the mattress, it having added some friction to his cock. Peter’s fingers were hitting your g spot with every thrust, and at the alarming speed he was going you were not only creating a mess on his bed but on his face, he’s sure his face would be glistening as soon as he pulled away.

The boy only hummed in response as he didn’t want to remove his tongue from your clit, speeding up the vibrations he felt your hips lift from the bed slightly as you got closer to your orgasm. You tasted just like peaches and cream and Peter wanted more, he didn’t want to stop even after you came, he was going to catch you up on all the missed orgasms you haven’t received from previous lovers.

The more your hips bucked into him the louder your moans got, deciding to curl his fingers up even more inside you that’s when it happened. Peter’s entire face was dripping, it was as if someone had thrown a water bomb right at him. He stopped his movements and lifted himself up onto his knees, looking down at you, your body glistening with sweat as your chest moved up and down from you panting.

“That was hot!” Peter looked like a kid in a sweet shop with the wide grin on his face, shaking his head slightly like a wet dog that had been out in the rain, your cheeks went bright red once you realised what had happened. You squirted.

“Think you can do that again?” Your eyes widened once he said that, you saw him grab a drink from the side and downed it. “Need to stay hydrated, not that I’ll need it with how wet you are” Peter’s head was back in its rightful place between your legs, as he started all over again to bring you back to your high.

#x men gifs #x men #x men imagine #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff

[caffeineforbucky]

As Time Goes By...(Chapter two)

A/N: I didn't think my writing would be so well received. I'm so excited to share it with you, fellow reader. As I've said before, thank you for taking the time, I appreciate you!!

Also: creds to @lokilauffeyson for the text dividers

and this one's for @paryl for wanting to be added to a tag list...(which I don't know how to make), but was kind enough to try and explain it to me, thank you times one-hundred!!!

Word Count:4,679

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst...again, swearing, mentions of John Walker aka Fake Cap...and more!

"I need your help, Y/N."

You pushed yourself up from the sofa, your eyes tearing away from the serious expression plastered on Sam's face as you turned your back to them. You brush your hair back with your fingers, nails gently scratching at your scalp, the days' build-up making you feel sticky and fevered. This wasn't how you wanted to spend your Sunday night. "Help with what?" You ask him while sighing deeply.

Sam stood up suddenly, footsteps sauntering towards you but not daring to get too close. "I was working in Tunisia for a while, tryna rescue Captain Vassant, who was kidnapped by a terrorist organization known as LAF," He reaches inside his jacket, pulling out his cell to pull up the video Torres had sent him. "Anyway, I spent a few days thereafter the mission, and Joaquin, one of my buddies in the air force, got to talkin' about this group of individuals."

Upon hearing the voices emitting from Sam's phone, you turned around, dropping your hands to step closer, getting a better view of the video. Your eyes zeroed in, completely missing Bucky's figure approaching as he pushed off the sofa as well. You wince, the several people getting thrown across the screen with impressive force. "Christ," You whispered, the video ending with Torres on his back, beaten and bruised.

"They call themselves the Flag Smashers," Bucky adds, his eyes taking in your appearance. It'd been too long since he last saw you, granted-the last time he saw you, mascara stained your cheeks, the whites of your eyes bloodshot, tears burning at your waterline. He shook his head softly, ridding his head of that night as your eyes drifted up to his. His breath hitched, but you or Sam hadn't noticed. Even in your exhausted and disheveled state, you were still as beautiful as when he first met you.

"Catchy," You remark, folding your arms, ripping your lingering eyes away from Bucky's face. He had gotten even more handsome since the last time you saw him. He sported long hair and a full beard then. But, now? He was clean, shaven, just a five-O'clock shadow covering his jaw, chin, and above his full lips. His hair was cut, clearly done by a professional, which surprised you a bit. He actually trusted someone enough to go near him with a pair of scissors and clippers. But, it was nice, still fluffy at the top, a fresh look. A new look.

"According to Torres," Sam begins, tucking his cell back into his jacket. "They think the world was better during the blip, a world unified without borders."

"Do you know what they want?" You ask, lifting your hand to kneed the tiredness from your eyes before re-tucking your arm. "I mean, why are you suddenly so interested in this?" You hold back a yawn, too focused on hiding it that you hadn't noticed the silence falling over the three of you.

Sam's forehead etches with a frown, eyes flickering over to Bucky, who held the same confusion on his features. Sam pulls out his phone again, unlocking the screen, his fingers moving fast.

"What are you doing?" Noticing that his eyes were hardened on the screen, incoherent words dripping from his lips.

"I'm checking to see if I pulled up the right video...your reaction just seemed off," He observes, shrugging lightly while he continued to scroll through his messages.

"Sam," You breathe, dropping your arms to your sides. "I'm sorry, I just-" You pause, hearing the soft jingles of Joshua's keys through the other side of the door before the door swings open, Josh's friends toppling through.

"No, come on, the best comedy ever made has got to be Stepbroth-" Joshua's voice comes full-stop, balancing two boxes of pizza in one hand as he came through, the laughter and conversation dying down as the rest of his posse stumbled in. There were only four of them, including Josh, but it felt like a swarm. "Hey," He utters, handing the boxes of pizza over to his friend, gesturing him to take it to the kitchen. "I thought they'd be gone by now..."

"Hey, Y/N," Josh's friend whispered, speeding past you and the guys. You sent him a wave, your attention settling back to the three that stood by the doorway.

"We were just leaving!" Sam announces, slapping Bucky's shoulder before looking at you, his face leaning a bit closer. "If there is some part of you that misses the feeling of being needed..." Sam reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small index card, he hands it to you. "Call me," He whispers as you take the index from his hand. "We leave tomorrow."

You look down at the card, a phone number to the front desk of a local hotel, probably the one he was staying at. You flip it over and see Sam's cell number written in red Sharpie. You sigh, and before you could utter a word, Sam and Bucky were gone with the slam of your door.

"What was that about?" Joshua's voice comes through, snapping you back to reality. You glance up at him, his other two friends silently dismissing themselves to join the other in the kitchen. "Did they say what they wanted?"

You hide the card behind your back, gently shoving it in the back pocket of your jeans as you shook your head. "Don't even worry about it," You dismiss him, going to make your way upstairs before Josh grabs your hand in a whirl, tugging softly to capture your attention. You stare at his hand touching yours before meeting his gentle eyes.

"Y/N," He murmurs, keeping his tone out of ear's reach. "I just want to know if everything's okay." He drops your hand, taking a step closer while you settled one foot on the first step.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You ask, frowning curiously at him. "It's fine, Josh. I'm fine."

Josh eyed you closely, pressing his lips tightly, nodding in agreement. "Okay, If you say it's fine, then it's fine." Lying straight through his teeth, but he knew better than to press you for answers. You were not the kind of person who responded well to pressure. "Umm..." He hums, rubbing the back of his neck, the nerves trickling down his spine. "Do you want to hang back, watch the game with us?"

You look over at Josh's friends, taking in their bright smiles and laughter. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, tearing your eyes away from their matching jerseys from each opposing side. "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night." You say softly, flashing the dirty blond a tight-lipped smile. They were once your friends too, but since the split-you managed to alienate yourself from the group. Even if they still considered you a friend.

"Are you sure?" Josh beams, "Because I'll make sure Benny doesn't try to throw guac on you again," He jokes, bringing up the one time you were drenched in guacamole, thanks to Benjamin-Josh's college roommate.

You cracked a smile, shaking your head in assurance. "Yeah, I had a long day at work, and I just want to shower and get some rest."

"M'kay," He whispers, dropping his gaze to the ground, almost disappointed at the decline of his offer. You bit your tongue, the downcast look on his face almost causing you to backtrack your answer, but you were tired. That wasn't an excuse. "Do you want some pizza before you go?"

"Uhh..." You drag, pondering your answer for just a second while moving up a step. "Just save me some in the microwave. I'll eat it as breakfast."

Josh grimaces, his face scrunching up with disgust. "Ugh," He grunts, shaking his head in disapproval. "I'll never understand how cold pizza is appealing to you." He takes a few steps back, turning as if he were about to leave, and then he stops, finding that a frown was coming to his features. "Y/N, wait!" He calls out, making you halt mid-way up the stairs. "One more thing, and If I don't get this out, I know it's going to bother me."

"Yeah?" You glance behind your shoulder, your fingers grip the railing while you wait for his question.

"How do you know them? I mean..." Josh took a moment to gather his thoughts. Pondering if he should bring up what Sam had told him before you got home. Josh had only asked who they were, and the only thing Sam said was that you were friends from work. And it didn't take a genius to figure out that the Avengers were far too busy to keep a day job like yours. Was there something she wasn't telling me? "When Sam mentioned they knew you from work, I just..."

You took a deep sigh, closing your eyes in response upon hearing it. Shit. You thought. I'm going to kill Wilson. "Josh-"

"No, you know what? It's okay. I don't want to know." He waves his hand in dismissal, a pained smile pulling at his lips. "Whatever it is, I respect your choices on the matter." And with that, Josh turns around and joins his friends, leaving you on the stairs.

You turn and jog up the rest of the stairs into your bedroom. You stepped in, quickly shutting the door and, your forehead rests against the wood. You wanted to scream, punch a wall, kick something to release the frustration. Now you had no choice but to call Sam and avoid Joshua altogether because that was healthy, avoiding problems instead of facing them head-on.

You liked Josh, cared about him. Even if you made it abundantly clear that you wanted to be just friends, you knew he still held a torch for you. Joshua was everything you could ask for in a partner. He was sweet, polite, respectful of your boundaries, and he never forced you to do anything outside of your comfort zone. So, you could not understand why you wouldn't settle for him. At least, that's what you told yourself. You knew exactly why you didn't want to be with him, and that it had everything to do with a certain Super-Soldier.

You push off the door, trudging into the bathroom for a shower. You turned the nozzle, setting the water temperature between warm and scalding enough to be considered for a broth. If the water wasn't turning your skin pink, you weren't doing it right.

You shut the bathroom door before stripping from your uniform completely, and you step over the tub, yanking the curtain to shield you from the cold. The water poured down on your head, cascading down your back, the heat soothing the tension in your neck and shoulders. "Fuck," You cursed, keeping your voice down so the guests downstairs wouldn't hear you.

Your mind was racing with thoughts of Joshua, Sam, and all the lies-they were all building up. It was enough to drive you into a breakdown, but only one person was above everything else, and that was motherfucking James Buchanan Barnes. He was all you could think about. His face, his pretty face taking up space in your brain. It was on a continuous loop as if he were on some compilation video that you'd only find on the internet. And it didn't matter if you were still hurt or angry with him-you never stopped thinking about what could've been.

Quickly, you finish washing away the days' grime before stepping out and wrapping a bathrobe around yourself. You gathered your clothes from the floor, bunching them up in your hands, and you open the door, walking out of the steam-filled bathroom into the open air of your bedroom.

Before you toss your clothes in the hamper, the tip of the card Sam had given you earlier sticks out of the pocket. You pull it out, letting go of the dirty clothes, dropping them in the hamper. You chew on your bottom lip, wet hair sticking to your face and neck as you flipped the card over, Sam's number calling out to you in angry red numbers. If there is some part of you that misses the feeling of being needed. His words ring in your head, repeating as if it were a mantra or famous last words.

You could not deny that Sam had strung a chord within you. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you missed feeling important. Important to civilians, as well as the world. And even though you enjoyed the life you built for yourself, you weren't normal. You were trained for war, skilled in battle, always on edge, and waiting for the other boot to hit the ground. You were no super-soldier, but you had a fight in you and that's all Sam could ask for. Plus, you were a hell of a knife thrower.

Taking your phone from your bed, you unlocked the screen and got to dialing Sam's cell. "Please don't make regret this."

Joshua paced below the flight of stairs, his socks grazing against the hardwood as he fiddled with his hands. He wanted a chance to talk to you alone, without the company of his friends or strangers. He had just kicked out his guests. Finished cleaning up the mess they made, making sure to save your pizza in the microwave. He tensed, hearing your hasty footsteps patter down each step.

You slow down, one hand on a duffel and the other on the railing. Your eyes widened slightly, the sight of Josh at the bottom of the stairs making you stop completely.

"Taking a trip?" He mumbles, gesturing his hand to the duffel gripped tightly in your fist. And that wasn't the only thing that caught his attention. It was the fingerless leather gloves clad on your hands. The many straps holstered to your thigh garbed with pouches of sorts. Some silhouetted knives, and others just for miscellaneous. "You look like your ready for battle," He jokes, trailing his eyes from your docs to your face, settling on your damp french braid.

You continued slowly down the steps, placing your go-bag down below your feet, halting in front of Josh. "I have some stuff I need to take care of," You note, glancing down at one of your pockets, fishing out a small wad of cash bundled in a money clip. "Here," You grab his hand, turning it over to his palm before placing it in his grasp. "The rent for this month and the next." You say, eyes shifting to his hazel ones.

"Woah, Woah," Josh exclaims, clutching the money as he tries to push it back in your hands. "You know I could really use this, but you don't have to do me any favors."

You stare at him, gently closing the money in his clutch. "Take it," You demand, "And It's not a favor, Josh." You bend down, retrieving your duffel from the ground, brushing past him to fetch your jacket from the coat rack.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not coming back?" Josh whispered, staring down at the money in his hand before glancing up at you, watching you as you took your keys from the bowl, unlocking the door before pulling it open.

"Keep that pizza warm for me, yeah?" You quip, forcing a smile as the last thing you see before walking out is the disconcertment emanating from Josh.

The poster glittered, blurred pieces of confetti sprinkling down, some blown up to appear larger than others in the background. Your jaw tightened, fingers curling to fold into fists as you stared at the piercing eyes looking right at you. Cap is back in bold, brash letters, an exclamation at the end, John Walker printed below...almost as if they were mocking Steve. Your fists tightened even more, the sheer sight of another holding the shield making your blood boil. It didn't belong to him, and it never would.

"Seems like a good guy."

You tense, the sound of Torres's voice startling you while he sauntered in, green backpack swinging off his shoulders, his hands gripping onto a steel clipboard. "You met him?" he asks, stepping closer to stand beside you, eyes following your line of vision.

"No," You say, voice taut, a cold gaze fixed on the poster taped to the wall. "And I don't plan on it anytime soon." You turn on your heel, meeting the friendly face of one Joaquin Torres. "You must be, Torres!" You beam, offering your left hand for him to shake. "Sam's told me a lot about you."

Joaquin reciprocates the smile, tucking the clipboard under his arm before taking your hand in a firm grip. "I like a lot about you too...Heard!" He corrects, cheeks burning furiously as the slip-up of his words. "I've heard a lot about you, from Sam, of course."

"Of course," You snicker, shaking it once before dropping your hand down to your side.

"I see you've acquainted yourself," Sam chimes, walking into a view with a wide duffel in his grasp, his footsteps coming to a stop between you and Torres. "Thanks for doing this on such short notice. And for signing Y/N on, I know us coming here was a bit behind schedule." Sam's eyes drift down to the duffel in your grasp, and before you could protest, he takes it from your hand. "Let's go," He instructs, jerking his head towards the plane up ahead while leading the way.

"Yeah!" Torres nods, smiling softly as you both followed beside Sam. "No sweat, I'm just finishing up the checklist. You'll be all good to go once you land in Munich." He glances over at you, aiming the last of his sentence towards you.

"What are you doing here?!" Sam calls out, switching both go-bags to one hand as he jogged down the flight of stairs. Your eyes search for the person Sam's voice was aimed toward, and when your sight caught Bucky, your breath hitched in your throat. Be strong, Y/N.

"I thought you were too busy brooding in confinement," Sam jokes, walking past Bucky to settle your things inside the jet, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were on your way.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't let you fight Gandalf on your own." Bucky quips, striding his long legs behind Sam. "I can't believe you didn't know that was gonna happen," Bucky shook his head, pointing at the poster of John Walker. "You shouldn't have given up the shield."

"Hey, hey," Sam begins, halting in his tracks, his gaze hardened as he turns to face Bucky. "I'm working okay? I was fine with it back in San Francisco, but all this outrage is going to have to wait...and I'm not alone-" Sam sticks out his chin, gesturing to your figure waltzing down with Torres beside you, deep in conversation about a tv show you were currently watching.

Bucky whips around...the sound of your laughter like heaven's bells to his ears. He wasn't expecting to see you again, let alone you agreeing to the mission Sam had offered. He didn't think your boyfriend would agree to let you go out in danger-unless...he didn't know. "You're coming?" He asks, almost choking before clearing his throat. "Since when?"

"Uhh, since last night?" You reply face scrunching in confusion. Wasn't he there when Sam asked me to come along? "I mean, it'd be kind of awkward if I showed up uninvited, right?" You shake your head, brushing past the menace to join Sam in the jet.

"I'm coming with you!"

"One minute 'til drop off, Sam," Torres informs, eyes locked on his military watch, checking the time frame before you flew over the destination.

You exhale, legs crossed with your back against the net, swiveling the curl of your favorite blade between your finger. It was a prized possession, no knife compared to it. It didn't matter if another knife was sharper, serrated, easier to throw-Babochka was your favorite.

"Can you just..." Bucky grunted, leaning forward in his seat, eyes trained on your spinning knife. "-put the knife away? It's making me nervous."

Without a word, you spun babochka again, closing it with a flick of your wrist before strapping it back to your thigh holster.

"So, what's our plan?" Bucky started up again as Sam stood up suddenly, walking over to the briefcase on the end of the jet, taking his goggles as well as two of the ear mics provided. Sam turns to look at you, calling you over with a jerk of his head, his hand offering the second earpiece.

You stood up, taking it from Sam's hand before adjusting it to sit up against the concha of your ear. It'd been a while since you used one of these. Your eyes drifted to Bucky, watching as he popped the earpiece inside, his gaze hardening as he stared at Sam because, unlike him, Sam actually wanted your help.

"Great, so no plan."

Sam remained in silence, adjusting the ear mic for himself as he flashed you a look of annoyance, Bucky plopping right back down in his seat, hands folded in his lap.

"Thirty seconds!"

"Enjoy your ride, Buck," Sam grunts, his annoyance level riding on high with the former winter soldier. Steve had a hell of a sense of humor to think these two could get along.

"No, you can't call me that." Bucky retorts, shaking his head in disapproval whilst glaring down the falcon. You felt yourself frowning, recalling a time Bucky had once scolded you for using his nickname. It was just a slip-up, an accident if you will. Something you would constantly hear Steve call Bucky, so you gave it a go, never anticipating the outcome, but that was before he got to know you, and you got to know him.

"Why not?" Sam utters, fingers gripping onto his goggles as he goes to slip them over his head, adjusting them over his eyes. "That's what Steve called you."

"Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan."

You sigh, knowing damn well that Bucky was just bitter about the mission. Bitter that Sam wasn't too keen on talking about the John Walker situation, even though you were going to bring it up, but decided to ask about it later. You knew he had given up the shield since you saw it in the museum on that date you took with Josh, as jarring as it was to see.

"Fifteen seconds 'til drop!" Torres shouts, shuffling closer to the open door of the jet.

"I have a plan," Sam griped, glaring daggers into Bucky before grabbing your hand in a tight grip, and as soon as you looked into Sam's eyes, you knew exactly what he was planning.

You couldn't scream, the abrupt impact of air hitting your face while you were being pulled from the jet. It was as if your brain stopped functioning, the oxygen escaping your lungs, the feeling of Sam's hands gripping you tightly anchoring your anxiety for just a nanosecond.

Shit, shit, shit.

It was the only word your thoughts seemed to spew out. Your eyes were shut tightly, not aware of your new fear of heights, which was discovered right now. Your stomach turned queasy, the swerves in the air causing the bile from an empty stomach to rise to the surface.

Don't pass out, don't pass out.

"You good?!" You could hear Sam's voice ringing in your ears, but you didn't dare open your eyes. You couldn't answer him, the mixed signals of fear and adrenaline compounding into a new chemical in your brain. You didn't know if you were going to die or vomit, there was no in-between.

"Sam...?!" You managed to choke out, gripping onto his arms for dear life. "I think," You could feel it, the burning sensation in your throat as he swerved again. It tasted like metal, close to when you bite your tongue, drawing blood, but you knew it wasn't. "-I'm gonna be sick!"

Quickly, Sam scanned the area, looking for a clear drop point, hearing your silent pleas through the mic. If he wasn't feeling bad for you, he'd of laughed at your hushed curses directed towards him. Flying straight into the warehouse, his wings disengaged before landing on the concrete. He unlocked his arms, trying to step away, but only finding that your hands were not going to let go without a fight. "You can let go now, kiddo,"

You shook your head, eyes still glued shut as if you hadn't noticed your boots planted firmly on the ground.

"Y/N, seriously," He chuckles, tugging away once again. "We're already on the ground."

Upon hearing his statement, you managed to crack one eye open, observing that you were in fact on the ground. You exhaled a sigh of relief, instantly washing over you. You let go of his arms, crouching down to place your palms on the concrete to make sure it was real. Sam's chuckles broke the silence. You shoot him a glare. "We..." You hissed, placing your hands on your knees to push yourself up, rising to your feet. "-are never doing that again."

"Never say never..." Sam drags, eyes flickering down to the screen attached to his forearm. "Look at this," He snorts, mouth pulling up at the corner, smirking. Sam leans over, showing you footage of Bucky crashing through multiple pine tree branches. "I have all of that on camera, you know that right?" Sam chortles, glancing at you to make sure you were looking.

You bit back a laugh, hearing the shortness of breath in your ear as Redwing got closer to Bucky lying flat on the ground. "Get out of my face, Sam. Or I'll break it." He threatened, clearly annoyed with Sam and his stupid toy.

"Okay, head North, come on."

Bucky sits up, grunting softly, using his knee as support to push himself up. He stretches out his back, feeling his muscles contort while he cracks his spine. His eyes drift up, looking to see the distance from the plane to the ground as the jet flies by. It sucked but nothing compared to falling from a train. He dusts the debris, various pine needles, and clumps of dirt off his shoulders and hair. If Redwing saw all of that, there was a possibility you had seen it too. He huffs, flipping off Sam's toy before following it to the warehouse where you and Sam resided.

"Had a good fall?" You quip, folding your arms over your shoulders, teasing him. As if you yourself didn't almost puke your guts from Sam's spontaneous flight.

"Funny," He bites back, eyes narrowing to a pinprick, flashing you a forced smile. So, that proved his theory, and he could bet good money that Sam showed you the footage with zero hesitation.

"So where's the guy?" You continue, tearing your eyes away from the winter soldier, changing the subject as you lean closer to the Redwing camera.

Sam's brows furrow, bringing the screen forward to get a better view. "I don't know," He confesses, trying to read the heat signatures as he sends Redwing just a bit closer. "I think they're smuggling weapons though."

"What makes you say that?" You ask, head tilting in curiosity while you looked at the falcon. The only thing you could pick on was blurs of red. You had no idea how Sam could tell what Redwing was seeing.

"Well, I think you could be right." Bucky interrupts just as Sam was about to answer your question. You take a step back from Sam, observing their matched body language as their both stared each other down. "But, there's only one way to find out. I see a clear path," Bucky shifts his attention to the obvious opening from behind the racks. "I say we take it."

Before Bucky could stalk off, Sam stops him, placing a firm hand on his chest. "We're not assassins...well," He mumbles, shifting quick eyes to you standing beside him. "At least we're not anymore."

"I'll see you inside," Bucky grunts, taking his vibranium hand to remove Sam's by the wrist. "Or not."

#james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky/reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #angst #jealousy #bucky x reader #samuel wilson #sam wilson #bucky x female reader #ex boyfriend #james barnes x reader #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws x reader #bb x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #tfatws fanfiction

[kyunisixx]

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth. 

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek. 

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past. 

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors.  All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage. 

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency. 

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him. 

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze. 

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice. 

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept. 

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint. 

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. 

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss. 

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers. 

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break. 

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

.

⭐ writings list ⭐

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taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

#robert plant x reader #robert plant #led zeppelin #fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin imagines #john paul jones #john bonham #jimmy page #fluff #cabincore #rustic #artist!au

[redledsandharrystyles]

Best friends - Luke Patterson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n and Luke have always been best friends, but one night he isnt answering your texts and you get a little worried. What you see when you open up the door to his room, might just change your friendship.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!) Lots and LOTS of spelling errors. I dont think there are any more...

Word count: 2767 words

Authors note: Its literally been so long since I've written ANYTHING, especially smut, and English isn't my first language so go easy on me please.

____________________

You were making your way up the stairs to your best friends room. It was currently 10PM, and he wasn't responding to your texts, making your worries increase, since he usually didn't take more than 10 minutes to respond, and he didn't go to sleep until at least 2AM. The TV downstairs was on, since his parents were watching the news in silence, and you knocked on his door.

No response.

You knocked again, but the only thing you could hear were muffled moans, which just made you even more worried. What if he was hurt? And he couldn't call for help, or reach his phone. Or what if he's unconscious. Then, you heard your name. Once. Twice. You let out a sigh, and opened the door. The room was dark, with only the moon lighting up the room. You carefully walked towards his bed that was pushed up against the cream walls, and saw him laying there, peacefully. Letting out a sigh of relief, you sat down, placing your head into the palm of your hands. Of course, the small amount of sleep he got every night would catch up to him eventually. But then you heard it again. Your name. Leaving his lips in a sinful manner. He kept moving around on his bed, his forehead sweaty. Was he having a nightmare?

You softly shook his shoulder, but he wouldn't budge. So you shook it again, but a little harder, making him shake his head. "Luke," You murmured, shaking him again. "Luke, wake up." He finally opened his eyes, rubbing his face with his large hands. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" He said as he reached for the lamp that sat on his nightstand, turning it on. You shook your head, "I got worried, since you weren't answering my texts. Stupid, I know. I wouldn't have woken you up, but you kept saying my name, so I thought you were having a nightmare or something..." You trailed off, seeing his face flush. "Y-yeah, n-no, I'm fine. I wasn't having a nightmare." He scratched his neck, which had now also turned a deep shade of pink. "What? Then wh-" Your eyes trailed down his body, spotting the lump in his sheets by his crotch area. "Oh. Oh!" You turned your head away, quickly standing up, and flattening down your skirt. "U-uhm." You weren't able to look him in the eye, your gaze moving from the electric guitar that was leaning against his wall, towards his desk, and lastly, the dirty laundry that sat on a chair by his window. You could hear movement behind you, but you still stood awkwardly in the middle of his room, your cheeks flushed, and your hands fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/n, It's not like it was on purpose. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I swear, i have no control over this. You're my best friend, and I really dont want this to change the way things are between us. B-but you're just so beautiful it's hard not to fantasize about- no, I mean you're really pretty so of course it happens sometimes. N-Not that this has happened more than once! I- I just-" You cut off his rambling with your hand over his mouth, making him exhale, and shut his eyes. "I know how dreams work, Luke. I know you have no control over them. I'd be lying if I said I've never had those type of dreams about you, y'know." His eyes opened in an instant as you realized what you had just said. He placed his hand over yours, moving it away from his mouth. "R-really?" Your eyes widened as you moved away from him. "I-I think I should go. My parents are probably waiting for me to get back and I dont want to worry them-" You quickly turned towards the door which lead to his room, hearing him sigh as he plopped onto his bed. Your hand hovered above the doorknob, but you sighed quietly, plucking up every ounce of courage, you turned back around, leaning against the wooden door. "Unless you need some help." You screwed your eyes shut, waiting for his response, your hands intertwined behind your back.

"W-What?" He propped up his elbows, leaning against them. You shook away your nerves, and slowly, seductively, walked over to his bed. "I asked if you needed help," you placed yourself on his lap so you were straddling his thighs. "With that." You pointed towards his member which still hasn't softened. He visibly gulped, and slowly nodded. You raised a brow, "Use your words." You purred, leaning closer towards him. "I-I might need some help." He stuttered, leaning back until his head landed on the soft mattress. You bent over in order to reach his neck. Nibbling at the soft skin, he let out a soft moan. You moved your lips down to his collarbone, sucking there, then blowing on the purple mark you left. You sat back up and slowly grinded on him, a groan escaping his lips which sent shocks to your core. His hands moved from his sides to your hips, making you grind a little faster, until another moan left his lips. You, once again, leaned into him, but now aiming for his lips. You brushed your lips against his, your tongue sweeping over his bottom lip, asking him for access, your tongues softly moving against each others. Pulling away for air, he sat up, with you still straddling him. "Tell me about your dream." You cooed into his ear, his grip on your hips tightening. "What?" You looked him in the eye, your hands trailing up his chest, tugging at his shirt, signaling for him to take it off. Then wrapping your hands around the back of his neck. "What was I doing in your dreams, that made you moan my name?," You asked, one hand trailing up into his hair, softly tugging at it, while you tugged at his bottom lip with your teeth. "Were you fucking my mouth?" You nipped at the spot right below his ear, grinding onto his member, a sinful moan leaving his plump lips that went straight to your core, and you then realized how truly wet he had gotten you. "Were you fucking me into the mattress?" You pulled at his hair, and his hips bucked into yours, making your breathing hitch. "Maybe you were bending me over your desk... fucking me from behind, or maybe spanking me." His hold on your hips was so hard he was probably leaving bruises.

"Oh, fuck me." He rasped, "You have to tell me, Luke, what were we doing?" You purred into his ear, your fingers trailing down his muscular abdomen. You looked him in the eye as your hand softly grabbed at his member, his lips parting as you rubbed him through his pants. "Please, Y/n." He whined, his head now resting in the crook of your neck, his breathing heavy, and his chest moving at a fast pace. "Tell me what you want baby." You muttered into his ear,

His hot breath on your skin caused a chill to run down your spine. "I- Y-you were, uhm, sucking me off. Th-then you started riding me." You smirked, and pulled his head from the crook of your neck, and kissed him, starting off slow. You pulled away so you could take off your shirt, now showing off your lacy bra. You then cupped his face, your lips now moving at a faster pace against his. His hands moving up your body towards your breasts, squeezing them through your bra, then moving down to your waist. Pulling away from your mouth, he moved his lips now towards your collarbone, creating a trail of hickeys from your neck to the swell of your breasts. You arched into him, a moan leaving your lips, and you could feel his member harden under your core. "Luke." You moaned, your fingers tugging at his brown locks of hair, he groaned into your neck, as he sucked at the sensitive skin. As amazing as his lips on you felt, you knew you had to at least give him something from his dream, so you pulled away, standing up from his lap. He whined as you moved towards the end of the bed. "Oh come on, Y/n, you can't just tease me like this, this hurts." He said as he pointed at his crotch, making you giggle.

"Did you forget what I was going to do to you?" You said, leaning over the bed, giving him a perfect view of your tits. He looked confused for a second, before his eyes widened. "Y-you were being serious? I-"

"Of course I was, now come here." He moved towards the end of the bed, and you sunk down onto your knees in front of him, looking up into his eyes as you pulled down his grey sweatpants, making him lift his hips. It took you by surprise when you saw he wasn't wearing a pair of underwear underneath the sweatpants, but you grinned nonetheless, licking your lips. You started off by spitting into your hand, then you wrapped your hands around his member, forming a fist. You heard his breathing hitch as soon as you made contact with his skin, but then you started moving. Your fist going up and down at a slow pace. Luke had put his hands onto his sides for support, his head thrown back in pleasure. He moaned out your name, as he fisted his bed sheets. You then licked our lips again, and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, an even louder moan escaping his lips. You slowly sunk lower into his member, his breathing now consisting of short pants. You had now taken all of him into your mouth, the tip of our nose brushing against his lower abdomen, and the tip of his cock brushing against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, trying to swallow him, "Oh, fuck." He muttered, his head turned down as he watched you bob your head up and down. "Fuck princess, look at me." Your stomach churned at the pet name, your wetness pooling in your underwear. You looked up into his eyes as you continued bobbing your head, swallowing every once in a while, one of your hands grabbing his thigh, while the other played with his balls. You hallowed your cheeks, and he bucked his hips, making you gag, "I-I'm sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated, a moan following soon after. His right hand went to the back of your head, tangling itself in your hair, as his left hand supported his upper body. He wasn't pushing your head down, just guiding it. You swirled your tongue across the tip of his dick, and fondled his balls again. "Fuck, I'm going to cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck," He screwed his eyes shut as he threw his head back. You pulled your mouth off of him, making him whine, but your hand kept going, just at a slow pace. "Where do you want to cum?" He opened his eyes, raising a brow. "What do you mean?" He asked, biting back a moan, trying to hold back. "Do you want to cum in my mouth? On my face? Perhaps my tits?" You asked, looking up at him with innocent eyes, your fist still moving up and down on his member. "Fuck, you're so dirty." He chuckled, so you softly squeezed his shaft, making his laugh cut off with a moan. "Your mouth, I want your mouth." He pleaded, and you smirked, wrapping your lips around him again, and bobbing your head up and down. Feeling him twitch in your mouth, "Shit, baby I'm going to-" You quickened your pace, both of your hands trailing up his thighs and up to his abs, scratching softly, then trailing back down, and softly squeezing the base if his member. With one final moan, he came. Swallowing his cum, and pulling your mouth off, saliva running down your chin. His hooded eyes looked down at your reddened lips, loving how swollen they currently were after what you just did. "Holy shit." He groaned, falling back onto the mattress, and you let out a soft giggle. "That was perfect. You- You're perfect." he said, tucking your messy hair behind your ear, and pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. Cupping your face, he pulled you towards him, his lips meeting yours, then pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan softly. "Were not done. Theres still one thing that happened, that we still havent done." You teased, your lips brushing against his, pulling back and looking into his eyes. "Really, and what's tha-" he cut himself off with a moan as you ran your fingers across his member.

You pulled down your skirt, and underwear, then unclasped your bra, making Luke's eyes widen, his gaze fixated on your chest. You straddled him, moving closer to his ear, "I'm going to ride you, remember?" You purred, your hand wrapping around his member, making it harden again. You then, slammed your hips down, sinking down onto his cock, making you both groan. Your fingers were digging into his shoulders, and his were digging into your hips. Your head fell forward into his left shoulder, and you lifted your hips again, making him shudder beneath you. When you slammed back down, he let out a louder moan than before, making you silence him with your mouth, "You have to be quiet baby, your parents are home." He nodded, leaning his forehead into yours. You started bouncing on his member, setting a steady pace, moans and grunts leaving your mouths. His hands moved from your hips to the curve of your ass, gripping it harshly, then slapping it, making your lips part and a loud moan escape. His lips were right beside your ear, so when you slammed your hips back down, the sinful sound he made went straight to your core making you arch your back. "Fuck, Luke." You moaned into his ear, your thighs burning. He grunted, "Hell, I cant do this." Then he flipped you over, making you land on your back int top of the mattress, ending up in a missionary position. He inserted him self into you once again, loud noises leaving the both of you as you arched your back. He shifted his position, grabbing your leg and placing it on his shoulder, allowing him to bury his cock deeper in you. Your breathing was getting heavier, and you snaked one hand towards your clit, desperate for a release. You started rubbing your fingers against your clit in circular motions, but when Luke noticed, he grabbed both your hands and pinned them above your head, leaving you a whining mess. He replaced your fingers with his thumb, repeating the circular motion, you arched your back again, your chest pressing against his. You felt a knot form in your lower abdomen, "Luke, I'm gonna cum," You cried out, making him quicken his pace. His hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin, and the headboard banging against the wall making you feel even more aroused. The knot tightening in your stomach as he pressed his lips onto yours. You repeated his name over and over again, begging for permission to cum. "Hold it, princess." You cried out as he put pressure on your clit with his thumb, "Fuck, you feel so good around me, baby. I'm going to cum," he panted, pressing his forehead to your chest as he slammed his hips into yours,  the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot. "Please, Luke, I can't-"

"Let go for me." He grunted into your ear, and snapped his hips one last time, before you both came. You attached your lips to his in order to silence you both as you rode out your highs. Luke sucked into your collarbone, before pulling out, and plopping down next to you. You were both breathing heavily, your chest heaving up and down, your bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Fuck, did we use a condom?" He asked, sheer panic laced in his voice, you chuckled, wrapping your hand around his waist, placing your head on his sweaty chest. "I'm on the pill." He breathed out a sigh of relief.

#luke patterson #jatp netflix #julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #charlie gillespie #smut x reader