#also i tried a new way of rendering with these pieces does it look okay be honest?

[beef-unknwn]

dilf x milf couple. entering my homewrecker era. I did not stutter.

#monster high #apollo wolf #selena wolf #theyre both so attractive to me #also i tried a new way of rendering with these pieces does it look okay be honest? #all in one layer including the sketch that i drew over slash hid #it's so weird doing the colours first then lineart but im doing it to push myself out of my comfort zone #and to make my art less clean. in a good way

[amrv-5]

HI ⭐️! (loved Droughtland, would love to hear commentary) :)

HELLO and THANK YOU FOR THE ASK and I'm SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT I loved WRITING IT ARGHH!!!! Also tagging in @catgrub who asked the same just a few minutes later -- HELLO and THANK YOU ZANE!!! Since there were two recs for Droughtland I feel like the extreme length of the following Commentary can be excused.

(For context: I realized I've got 0 idea of how to do a Director's Commentary except for ones I've seen where directors just rewatch their own movie and speak overtop of it, so, I did the same except with reading and typing. This is my read-along author commentary on Droughtland, arranged in chronological order--feel free to look at it with the OG, or not, it should stand alone just fine. Or ignore it entirely. My god it's fucking long, so sorry. Anyway, onwards.)

Okay close reading. Okay commentary. Engaging on this journey together yaaaay.

[Iowa, 1962]

Okay, from the first line, we’re invoking concerns of location, identity, belonging, otherness—Radar struggling to adjust to home because he senses he’s been changed by his experiences in a way that makes him incompatible with the life he used to lead. He’s good at his job, we sense that he’s well-respected, but he’s undeniably not entirely present. Everything he does, sees, thinks, remembers, ends up in service of the Project, which I think I’ve (maybe not obviously or even all that consciously) tried to imply has an element of spiritual or religious calling to it, given that we’re introduced to it in a church. 

And retrospectively enjoying the complexity of Radar running the line between escapism and catharsis in his writing at the end of this first section. He misses the people he was close to, that much is clear, and writing is a way to feel close to them. And yet he’s also mentally returning over and over again to a war. A theme I’ve played with in the background of my BeejHawk fics, and more centrally in Droughtland, is one I sort of cribbed from Michael Herr’s Dispatches: Who are you after the most defining event of your life has ended?

[Iowa, 1952]

...And who are you when you KNOW the most defining event of your life has ended? That’s not to say the War Was A Good Experience and One To Reminisce Over. In fact the war being experientially horrific only complicates this idea more. I’m fascinated by how somebody goes about the rest of their life knowing with near-certainty that anything / everything they experience will likely never be as impactful on their sense of self and arc of life than a single past event. Anyway, this ends up concerning Radar greatly, who moves from that Defining Event—Drafted Into the Korean War—back to the rhythms of family and farm life, where he expects himself to be content with the life he’d always assumed he’d have. Actually I’ve read more and realized I had him state that concern textually, rendering this redundant. Ah well. Moving on. 

Okay, something else—Radar and writing and fiction and voice. I wanted to get across very clearly that the driving force of his writing is a direct desire to communicate—his first attempt at beginning the book takes the form of an introduction (“My name is Radar O’Reilly”), and he states that writing lets a fellow talk to people who aren’t around. The silent implication being, then, that he’s got no-one real to talk to. Another important set of questions getting kicked around in this piece: Why do we write? Is writing still communication if it’s never shared?

I wanted to play with the idea specifically of writing in relation to loneliness. If you’ve got nobody to talk to, or no way to express yourself meaningfully, or nobody who is interested in understanding you, it makes a lot of sense to sink into the realm of the creative, which we see Radar do here very explicitly. He doesn’t have any close connections, really, or at least not ones he thinks he can explain his new sense of self to, so he turns to writing. Summoning the last people who really understood how he felt, in some ways, writing to communicate with people who are dead or gone from him. Making some record of himself, his experiences, the way he sees the world—an attestation of self, or something, in direct defiance of a landscape and life that feels flat, uncaring, inaccessible—he starts writing alone in a field.

[Iowa, 1959]

Next—mm, field fire section, which was my favorite to write. I’m clearly and obviously soft for rural concerns. I know it’s been pointed out that my voice is significantly different in this fic than in my others, and I’ll admit that I did dip into the author-voice I usually reserve for my personal fictionalizations of family histories, which largely concern, go figure, rural American questions of identity, place, belonging, family, fulfillment, etc. And yet the usual Vonnegut-y sensibilities aren’t wholly gone—the idea of Radar being a volunteer fireman was lifted both from Vonnegut’s life AND volunteer firefighters' positioning in his work as bastions of selfless humanity and civic duty. I like the idea of a latently lonely Radar doing all these very quiet upright civically-minded things. Frequently good people are dealt bad hands, and aren’t cared for by their communities, and still go on doing good anyway. 

[Iowa, 1963]

Reading on—and the arrival of BeejHawk. It’s been long enough by this point that Radar’s sort of been subsumed by the Project. We see that tendency in him as he anticipates seeing ‘Dr. Pierce’ and meets Hawkeye instead.

And then—AH! At last! The title is Droughtland, obviously, and that’s a multivalent image, but here’s at least one moment and facet of relief: Sometimes, he thought, a fellow just needed words. Words and words and words like rain on a drought. And the good doctors Pierce and Hunnicutt had always known how to talk up a storm. 

As much as it’s a relief, it’s also destabilizing to suddenly have people notice him after so long living almost entirely within himself—Hawkeye calling him Radar shocks him into silence—wow, I’m realizing belatedly just HOW MUCH this fic is about loneliness, actually. Funny the things you can catch on a reread. His name is important, that’s all, and Hawkeye would understand that. 

Meanwhile BeejHawk as a unit are very clearly sensing something wrong—not wrong, maybe, but not all right, either. Radar’s Restaurant Allegory is key here as he admits that ‘enjoyment’ is absolutely meaningless in the context of his life—it doesn’t matter if you like the restaurant if it’s the only option. It’s not that he likes or dislikes it—it’s that forming and expressing an opinion would be pointless. This is a stand-in for his opinion on life, which Hawkeye finds distressing, though I think he’d agree with Radar to a degree on his related idea that happiness, delight, joy are intentional practices more than consistent feelings (another idea cribbed from elsewhere: Ross Gay’s Book of Delights, which I am coming to realize sunk way more deeply into my psyche at age 19 than I thought. I may elaborate someday if there’s ever an interest in Parker Creative Nonfiction because the story’s sort of ???, but also, maybe not).

Anyway, Hawk at last manages to drag a bit of real sentiment out of Radar: writing, and the Project, where so much of his internal life is focused (Hawk makes a Lot’s wife joke, because of course he does, but also I like him invoking a story where somebody looks backward on something terrible and suffers for their inability to turn away). 

And from here Radar takes the plunge and finally gives all that lonely writing an audience. Terrifying, but it pays off—Hawk affirms that he’s very good (important to me that Radar’s very good as a writer coming from outside a formal academic context. Everybody has the potential to create resonant art, and I wanted to be clear that Radar’s interest in something like the Iowa Writer’s Workshop isn’t the need to be Validated by the Institution or to Escape some sort of poorly-informed or condescending vision of Rural Nonintellectualism (bad themes!!! I hate them!!! NOT at play here, or at least consciously attempted to subvert) but as an extension of the desire for artistic community. To be seen and heard, instead of all the silent listening he’s been doing for years.)

The tradeoff of communicating, by the way—Hawk is a good listener, and picks up on a number of things maybe Radar wasn’t even aware he was revealing in his work—loneliness, vague dissatisfaction, a focus on finding interior fulfillment when the external world fails to provide. Scary, destabilizing, embarrassing… but eventually very, very good. For Radar, at least, who’s suddenly feeling like he’s allowed to want something. 

Moving on. Hawkeye’s reaction to learning he’s a part of Radar’s Project. Obviously he’s worried about how he’s going to come across. I think it’s a very scary thing to be the object of cameras, of writerly gaze, all of it, because it creates an image that exists entirely outside the object's control. How horrifying/enticing/awful/fascinating it’s got to be to be able to find out how you exist in another person’s mind… and when that image was formed in the lowest years of your life… of course Hawk’s apprehensive. And clearly it rattles him—but maybe in the way any really, really resonant art rattles us, based on his next-morning response. 

Hawk comes downstairs and we get this baffling little kiss scene, which I’ll be honest I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant when I was writing, only that it felt right. But now I’m thinking it’s clearly an exchange of seeing—Hawk feels he’s been thoroughly Seen in Radar’s work, for better or worse, and comes downstairs to communicate in this abstract way that he sees Radar, too—and affirms what he sees. 

So we end with these moments, finally, of communication and understanding and connection. Very obviously there’s the Hawk-Radar connection, which is so intense and emotive it’s basically psychic (what's good writing if not successfully communicating an idea or image with all original emotive force and vividness from one mind to another?). There’s also Beej, who isn’t Hawk’s brand of incidentally clairvoyant, but is all around a very bright, kind, warm person who’s able to give Radar the sort of horrendously necessary everyday sort of conversation and care that makes life bearable, the kind it’s so easy to take for granted when you’re experiencing it regularly. And then there’s BJ stepping in to hold Hawk even if he doesn’t fully understand what’s transpired between Hawk and Radar, because he knows Hawk and knows that he needs a second of support, which is sort of psychic in its own way. 

And that's the end. So, overall, I’d say the thing is very directly related to the title—drought of the soul which is only starting to lift by the end of the piece. One storm doesn’t solve a drought, after all—you need consistent rain, and time for ecological repair. And still the first few drops of rain after a dry spell feel awfully good. 

#THANK YOU BOTH FOR THE ASK!!!!!! #and. i'm soooo sorry for the length of this I was having Fun. do not feel obligated to Actually read it it's Excessively Detailed #anyway. ouuugh #droughtland #fic commentary

[sugarbundust]

Blurb and question; Of Snowscapes & Explosions

SPOILERS FOR NEXT CHAPTER

First of all: I had to type this up like four times, because tumblr likes to just eat my text posts. Omg. WHY. Why does CMD+Z for 'undo' (which you could normally use for undoing a text replacement) erase THE ENTIRE POST YOU JUST WROTE? 😭 Who decided this change was GOOD? 😭 It never used to do that!

Okay.

Anyway.

So.

I'm having a conundrum with the next (few) chapter(s).

I decided I'm absolutely breaking this update up into multiple parts, because while trying to trim it down I somehow managed to bloat the chapter up in size to 22k words lmfao (DO NOT ASK ME HOW. I DO NOT KNOW. 😭) And I am not posting that lol (It's bad enough I go over 10k at times for extra long chapters. That would be insane.) However, now that I've found a good spot to slice off at for the next update, it puts me in a pickle because it's in the middle of some stuff I could completely edit out (thus, rendering the update a lot shorter).

For context, this next scene focuses on Bakugou and OC talking while eating. He's discussing a few topics—things he likes and fan stuff regarding All Might, but then turns the tables on OC and starts asking her about things she enjoys—favorite heroes, hobbies, specifics about her quirk and family. Stuff like that.

A nice bonding moment.

This wouldn't be a problem if not for the fact that I've been trying to keep OC as vague as possible (since she is supposed to reflect the reader).

My question then becomes: how detailed am I allowed to get with her?

Some readers in the past have asked me to go into more details about these exact things, saying they already see her as her own character and not a stand-in for themselves. They have said it would make her a more interesting character, too, since it would broaden the plot.

And on that point, it's really interesting for me hearing that as the writer of this piece specifically, because I have tons of headcannons for her! 😅 All sorts of info I never bother to add into the story and just kept to myself lol. Stuff she likes. Hobbies. The way she looks. Her family (and extended family). All sorts of thoughts regarding other heroes and pop culture... Her favorite songs, books, etc. I'm constantly thinking of new stuff to add in 😂 I just... never do.

It's not a huge problem for me (or it hasn't been, anyway). And I've indulged a little bit here and there in the past. Ya'll have been kind enough to overlook content regarding her family dynamics, assumed height, food preferences, etc. I just don't know how far I'm allowed to go where people will still be interested.

I've tried to veer on the safe side, not just with canon as a guideline, but also keeping in mind I have a lot of readers from different lifestyles and cultures than myself. I guess I don't want to say she likes XYZ and then readers hate her, or be turned off from her possible perspectives on things. 😅

And I know I'm probably overthinking it; that as the author I can do as I please. But with this story I've tried to be mindful of the reader's point of view since the beginning, and I think that it's also part of the story's charm. I like incorporating your thoughts and feelings. It feels like a bit of a group effort. 🥰 And I don't want to ruin a formula that seems to make most readers comfortable.

I would really love to hear your thoughts regarding this, whichever way you feel. I can continue to write it the way I have, and that wouldn't be a problem (I wouldn't be upset!). But it might be more fun for us if I indulge? I could even ask about some specific opinions from the readers and try to incorporate that, too. It would certainly open up a lot of doors for content I could write.

I have a few things I'm considering revealing in one of these upcoming updates, but I don't want to divulge just yet what that is (Maybe my next blog post). It's not something serious or prominent to the plot, but it's revolving around one of her potential hobbies and possible club activities she partook in at her old school.

I did a lot of research on a few topics for it, but it's just something that I thought was interesting, and not a necessity to the plot. 😂 It's also not something I think a lot of people will care about, so I'm contemplating cutting it specifically because of that. (It's fluff, really. I know I could always just blabber away here to what it is lol but I did think of a way I could incorporate a callback to it in a later chapter if I wanted.)

But yeah, it's late and I'm just rambling at this point lol

With that all out there, I'm going to try and get all my editing and formatting done later today for this chapter (I'm on my way to bed!), that way I can post between late tomorrow night and sometime on Sunday when I get home. Here's to hoping I can finish on time! 💪💪💪 There's still a little bit left to refine! ٩(⁎❛ᴗ❛⁎)۶

#Of Snowscapes & Explosions #blurb #question

[realm-of-rosie]

✎ Oddly Specific Scenarios II | Genshin Impact | Modern AU

↠ Scaramouche, Kazuha, Tohma, Gorou × Reader

↠ Fluff | Scenarios

↠ Before You Read:

one of a few more things i’ll be posting before i permanently move to the new blog hwehwe

ALSO SCARA IS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE TIMEOUT CORNER BUT I ALREADY TYPED THIS OUT AND I WASNT ABOUT TO CHANGE IT UP. THIS DOESNT MEAN IM NOT MAD AT HIM ANYMORE OKAY BECAUSE I TOTALLY AM :3

↠ Rules for Requesting | Masterlist

scaramouche laying on your chest on a hammock in the balcony after a long, hot summer day. the sun is beginning to set, crickets are starting to chirp, and all the windows are open to let in the cool breezes to pass through your home, and before you know it, scaramouche has fallen asleep in your arms to the gentle swaying of the hammock, dean martin’s everybody loves somebody (or bea miller’s cover of be my baby) softly blasting from the radio, and the peaceful thumping of your heart. 

you find kazuha standing in front of the wide open window when you come home after work, a little dazed and confused after he tried to sleep off his fever the whole day. and as you usher him back to bed, wrapping his blanket around him snuggly before feeding him the soup you bought, all his hazy mind could comprehend was, wow, they’re really mine, and when you meet his eyes, all you can see is the adoration he has, like he’s left in a distant dreamland where he has everything he could possibly want in life. and he does, because he has you.

puppy love with tohma. the kind where everyone and anyone in your shared and individual lives tease you about it, they seem to point out everything from the way you look at each other, the way you act around each other, the little signs of affection. your friends push you towards him and his friends yell out compliments for you from him from across the road and he has to swat them to get them to shut up with bright red cheeks, but when they do stop, focusing on something else and it is all quiet again, you both turn your heads to catch one more glance at the other, and when your eyes meet, the both of you think that hey, maybe a relationship with each other won’t be so bad.

gorou was staring a little too hard at your face when you two were hunched over the table, the only singular piece of furniture that stood in the new apartment you both bought for yourselves, which isnt an uncommon occurrence at all. you first thought it was because he was trying to comprehend the instructions you were reading out on how to assemble the bedframe, but all of a sudden he raises his hand and starts thumbing at your cheek and rendering you silent. “there’s a paint stain,” he tells you, showing you his now blue thumb, the same shade of blue that coated your home office’s walls, you couldnt recall ever letting the paint brush by your face at all, and the mischievous grin on his face when he looks away tells you that there was no paint stain at all - until he put one there himself.

chilling on the porch swing with diluc. late in the afternoon, watching your friends set up the bonfire - an event dedicated to celebrating the last days of summer before fall starts - with matching glasses of your favorite drinks, and basking in each other’s warmth while your friends chase each other around with water guns. laughing in delight when the fire grows larger and larger, you stand up first, turning back to offer your hand to diluc so you could roast marshmallows together. 

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #tohma x reader #thoma x reader #gorou x reader #diluc x reader

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Hack-San

You know, it's honestly amazing how creative this show can get. After four seasons and almost one hundred episodes, the writers are still finding new ways to make Adrien an incredibly unlikable character, and they don't even know how much of an asshole they're making him out to be at times. It's kind of like the opposite of The Producers.

Yeah, this review's going to be a little more ranty than usual, in case you can't tell.

Let's get into the fifteenth (chronologically the sixteenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Hack-San

We start off with Marinette pretending to be sick so she doesn't have to go to visit her aunt in London and stay to protect Paris in case an Akuma attacks and also because the animators haven't had time to render the city of London yet for the next Miraculous World special. Like all of her other excuses, it fails, and Tikki, as always, fails to actually give any meaningful advice.

And it's not like there's a Miraculous with the power of teleportation that can help Marinette get back to Paris if she needs to, much like how she planned to do that in an earlier episode, right?

Seriously, Kaalki doesn't appear or isn't even mentioned in this episode because the writers are fully aware she would make things a lot easier.

And of course, Astruc had to play dumb on Twitter while explaining why Marinette couldn't use the Horse Miraculous by answering the question as if the only reason Marinette couldn't grab it was because she didn't have an excuse not to.

Cut to Gabriel in his lair as he contemplates akumatizing Markov, a robot created the civilian identity of Pegasus, Max Kante, once again, even though the last time he did so, he almost got killed when he went all HAL 9000 on his ass. Nooroo explains this to Duusu, and the two actually get excited at the prospect of their master getting killed.

I mean, it's true, but he shouldn't say it...

But I don't even get why Gabriel is even thinking about this when it's a no-brainer. Markov's akumatized form, Robustus was to this day, the only Akuma to come close to physically harming him (not counting the timeline where he was killed by Cat Blanc), so it makes no sense to try doing it again, especially when there are already several other Akumas he can reuse this season.

I think you all know Gabriel isn't the smartest villain, which is why he thinks it's a brilliant idea to akumatize Markov again. I don't really get what makes Robustus so special when there are other Akumas who are more loyal and came far closer to getting Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous than Robustus did, like the Dark Owl or Troublemaker. In fact, why not simply create a new Akuma with similar powers to Robustus, or better yet, just create a Sentimonster copy of Robustus? You know, like what Nathalie did in the New York Special? We're not even two minutes in, and this premise is already filled with plotholes.

So Gabriel transforms into Shadowmoth and creates a Sentimonster using his own cane instead of relying on someone else having a bad day (once again showing how the Peacock Miraculous is better than the Butterfly), the titular Hack-San. And let's just say he has a very familiar design reminiscent of something from a much better French cartoon.

Remember when the writers for Code Lyoko gave an in-universe explanation as to why the heroes couldn’t always rely on the almost literal Deus ex Machina that allowed them to return to the past and fix the damage XANA caused? Why couldn’t this show have ripped that off instead?

Hack-San is just an okay looking flash drive on its own, but I'll talk more about this guy in a little bit.

After a brief scene in the park where the audience is reminded that Markov is a character who exists, Alya gets a text from Marinette telling her to meet her at the train station. Right before she leaves, Marinette gives the Ladybug Miraculous to Alya. Now a lot people have said that Alya doesn't really deserve the Ladybug for various reasons, but I feel like this was the point. Marinette outright says this was a last resort, and we see both her and Alya are nervous about the situation. Marinette worries Alya will do something so she keeps sending multiple tips to her via text while Alya worries she can't fight an Akuma on her own, so she tries to make sure none of her friends get upset and attract an Akuma in the process. The writers do a pretty good job showing how both Marinette and Alya are uncomfortable with their temporary roles.

Back to Gabriel and Nathalie, they use Hack-San to find Markov through the internet and hack into him to get him angry enough that he's vulnerable to Shadowmoth's influence. Hey, uh... Gabriel? Quick question: Wouldn't it be more efficient if you used this on humans? I mean, you basically just created Skynet and guaranteed yourself an Akuma, so why not modify Hack-San to travel through the internet and brainwash potential victims to follow your orders? Better yet, why don't you just use Hack-San to hack into Ladybug and Cat Noir's gear and figure out who they really are? This is basically like using an advanced particle accelerator just to crack a couple walnuts. There are a lot more important things you could use this for instead of an incredibly specific situation.

So this incredibly stupid plan gets under way as Markov keeps rampaging through the streets before Shadowmoth akumatizes him and then stupidly tells him that he infected him with a virus.

DUDE! You just gave away your one piece of leverage against him! What the hell were you thinking?! Now what's stopping Markov from hacking into Shadowmoth's security system and putting the fear of God in his eyes unless he destroys Hack-San? Why didn't he design Hack-San so it could make Markov completely loyal to him instead of just making him angry enough to get akumatized?

There was a recent episode of Power Rangers: Dino Fury with a very similar premise that was done far better than this. A necromancer called Reaghoul breaks into the headquarters of Void Knight's faction while accompanied by Lord Zedd, a villain from the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers who was cleansed of his evil by Zordon's sacrifice before Reaghoul resurrected him back when he was still evil. Of course, being the Emperor of Evil, Lord Zedd would normally never take orders from anyone, but because he doesn't have his magic staff and is also being forced to wear a special collar that makes him loyal to Reaghoul, he has no choice but to do what he says. Instead of taking Zedd head-on after he captures the other Rangers, Ollie, the Blue Ranger, breaks the collar so Zedd turns against the other Sporix while Reaghoul retreats, allowing Ollie to save the other Rangers.

I think that this premise works more because 1) Reaghoul clearly had a way to make sure Zedd wouldn't betray him, and Ollie took advantage of that, and 2) Zedd is a villain who is powerful and notorious enough to bring back to your side, not a random monster of the week like Robostus.

So Robostus uses his new powers to brainwash any human who answers his call to give up their most precious possession, clearly meant to do the same with Ladybug and Cat Noir. When Marinette's parents answer the call, they chase after Marinette because they say she's their most important possession. Okay... kind of strange for a set of parents to call their child a possession, but maybe they like how they can claim Marinette as a dependent when they file their taxes. In her very next scene later on, she still gets captured, so the suspense for a potential subplot is killed almost immediately.

Alya thankfully isn't stupid enough to answer Markov's call like every other citizen in this episode, and using the Ladybug Miraculous, transforms into Scarabella. While I don't normally talk about transformation sequences, I really like the movements Alya makes here. She makes the same motions creating her mask as she does when transforming into Rena Rouge, while the rest of the suit forms similarly to the way it does when Marinette transforms into Ladybug. She even makes almost the same pose Ladybug does after she finishes transforming. It's a good visual showing Alya is still more used to being Rena Rouge while doing her best to emulate what Ladybug does.

As for the actual suit? It's hard to say. There's a nice balance of red and black, and I like how Alya places the yo-yo on her waist like a belt buckle, but there's just something... off about the suit that a lot of fans don't like about it, and I think I realized it. It's the headband. With how it's positioned, it looks like it's merged with the mask to cover her head while leaving a slight gap in her forehead. So yeah, we actually have a superhero design that's like of like a butterface.

So Scarabella takes to the rooftops of Paris and struggles to come up with a hero name for herself before she runs into Cat Noir, and... ugh... oh boy, this is dumb. Cat Noir, being just as intelligent as his father, assumes Scarabella is either and Akuma or a Sentimonster, starts fighting her, AND THEN ACTIVATES HIS CATACLYSM, CLEARLY TRYING TO KILL HER.

WHAT. THE. FUCK???

Okay, to be fair, it has been shown that Cataclysm won't necessarily kill a Miraculous user or Sentimonster. In the episode “Miraculer”, the titular Akuma stole Cat Noir's Cataclysm and used it against him, and while it didn't kill Cat Noir, it still hurt like hell and crippled him for the rest of the fight until Miraculous Ladybug healed him. We also saw in “Reflekdoll” that Cataclysm drove the titular Sentimonster out of control rather than simply destroying it. So yes, it could be interpreted that Cat Noir wasn't exactly trying to kill Scarabella, just incapacitate her the best he can without Ladybug's help.

Here's the thing: What if he was facing an Akuma instead and decided to try and Cataclysm her? He still could have killed her, or (assuming Akumas have the same protection as Miraculous heroes do) at best, seriously hurt her. I understand that he has the right to be upset at seeing some stranger instead of his partner considering Shadowmoth has a history of using evil doppelgangers, and both Marinette and Alya still had options to explain it to him (Marinette could have quickly transformed into Ladybug and sent Cat Noir a quick text saying she was being forced to leave town for a few days and temporarily trusted someone else with the Ladybug Miraculous until she got back, while Scarabella could have said she was Rena Rouge and explained the same thing while showing Cat Noir she had the Fox Miraculous to prove herself), but that doesn't even come close to justifying him attempting to harm someone who isn't even trying to fight. It's even worse when you remember the whole reason Adrien gave up his Miraculous and bailed on Ladybug in the New York Special was because he was overcome with grief from accidentally killing Aeon, so it's good to know he learned absolutely nothing from that experience.

So Scarabella thankfully summons her Lucky Charm, a trash can lid, to shield herself from Cat Noir's Cataclysm, and then despite having absolutely no experience with this new set of powers, manages to do the one thing almost every Akuma or Sentimonster in this show has failed to do and incapacitates Cat Noir so he's vulnerable to losing his Miraculous. At least when Marinette masters every other Miraculous she uses, it can be theorized that she trained to use them offscreen. Alya literally just got the Ladybug Miraculous (and struggled to get up to the rooftop with her yo-yo to show her inexperience earlier), and now she easily manages to pin down the more experienced hero of the two?

Here's an idea: Instead of having Scarabella overpower Cat Noir, have her be in a position where Cat Noir, non-lethally, mind you, manages to almost take her Miraculous away, but she uses the quick wit she's developed from her extensive time as Rena Rouge to convince Cat Noir she's the real deal by saying something only he and Ladybug know. It would have easily resolved the conflict and doesn't make one of the characters look like a homicidal idiot.

So because both heroes used their powers, Scarabella and Cat Noir detransform so Tikki and Plagg can recharge, though Adrien still gives Alya attitude because Ladybug didn't tell him she had to leave.

Hey, Adrien? Here's the thing...

YOU DID THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING IN THE NEW YORK SPECIAL, YOU SHIT FOR BRAINS!

You have absolutely NO RIGHT to claim you're always honest when you went behind Ladybug's back and endangered Paris while you had the balls to run away like a coward and only helped fix the consequences of your actions once your ego was validated by a recording of Ladybug. It's honestly even worse because while Marinette had no choice but to leave and trust Alya with the Ladybug, Adrien willingly left Paris alone and we were supposed to sympathize with him after he killed someone, and now as soon as he's in the opposite situation, we're still supposed to feel bad for him?! BULLSHIT! And you better believe I'm going to talk about the way Adrien views his partnership with Ladybug later on.

And of course, even though lives are on the line, Cat Noir just has to continue to bitch and moan about how (and this is best read in Linkara's whiny Superboy Prime voice) “sCaRaBeLlA iSn'T tHe ReAl LaDyBuG”, showing how just like in so many episodes, Astruc and his team believes Cat Noir's feelings are more important than saving the day.

Scarabella goes to rescue some civilians, but they were actually brainwashed by Robustus, once again showing her inexperience as Ladybug which doesn't go well with her effortlessly defeating Cat Noir earlier at all. Cat Noir helps Scarabella escape and the two hide out at the city's wax statue museum previously featured in “The Puppeteer 2”, because I guess the writers only want to reference bad episodes today. Cat Noir, not getting the importance of secret identities, asks Scarabella how she knows Ladybug, and Cat Noir somehow finds out she knows Ladybug's identity from her response.

Before the two can talk more, it turns out that the wax statues of celebrities in the museum are real people who attack the two heroes, leading to an awkward fight scene where Scarabella and Cat Noir fight a bunch of brainwashed civilians with no weapons beyond their cellphones. Our heroes, ladies and gentlemen!

Scarabella summons her Lucky Charm again, creating a frying pan, but when she looks around, she can't see how to properly use it. And despite spending the entire episode complaining about how much he hates her, it's Cat Noir that tells Scarabella to get her head back in the game because “That's what Ladybug would do”. Funny, I can think of a few situations where Cat Noir could have taken his own advice, but I digress. Also, he's now just cool with Scarabella because there's only a few minutes left in the episode and we need to wrap up the conflict.

Scarabella figures out an idea that involves freeing Marinette, so she negotiates with Robostus to free everything and everyone under his control or else Cat Noir will use his Cataclysm to destroy the Ladybug Miraculous. Robostus agrees and empties his hard drive, and to show them holding up her end of the bargain, Scarabella gives him the frying pan before she and Cat Noir let themselves be captured... while Marinette simply hits Robostus with the frying pan, freeing the Akuma and the two heroes. All in all, it's a really creative climax that shows both Scarabella and Marinette in perfect sync with each other even though they never discussed their plan. Though of course, because Astruc hates writing any scene with Ladynoir, Cat Noir gets a bucket stuck on his head so he doesn't see Marinette saving the day.

Scarabella de-evilizes Robostus, uses Miraculous Scarabella to fix everything and send Marinette back to the train, and because Hack-San already failed once, Shadowmoth can't use it for a different plan so he destroys the Sentimonster.

We cut to a few days after the trip (I guess Shadowmoth decided to take a vacation himself), and Alya tells Marinette to talk with Cat Noir about what happened.

This scene was so close to ending this episode off on a positive note. There was a good atmosphere and the body language of Ladybug and Cat Noir does a good job at telling us how uncomfortable they both feel while talking. It's just that instead of getting a heart to heart between the two about the lack of trust in their relationship, we get an Angstdrien Depreste scene. Or would a more accurate term be Cat Dour?

First off, while I don't have a problem with Ladybug apologizing for not telling Cat Noir, the episode never has him bring up what happened with Scarabella. As usual, both of them were partially at fault, but only Ladybug had to apologize for leaving her “Kitty” alone.

Second, Cat Noir’s feelings weren’t hurt? You’re telling me that in scenes like this...

And this...

Didn’t show Adrien acting irrationally because of how emotional he was? Is he really telling the truth around Ladybug or is he just trying to sweep that under the rug so Scarabella’s testimony doesn’t screw up his chances with Ladybug?

Third, this was an obvious chance to Cat Noir to finally be honest and tell Ladybug how he feels about her leaving him in the dark about so many things, but the entire conversation is just about how sad he would be if he never sees Ladybug again. Even though the whole reason he was so pissy to Scarabella at first was because of some lingering resentment for Ladybug ignoring him in favor of other heroes, why is this what the two talk about? I get it's not the season finale, but it's kind of hypocritical for Cat Noir to whine about how Ladybug doesn't trust him while never being honest about his own feelings? Sure, he's all soft and vulnerable around Ladybug, but we've seen all season how angry he gets about her not trusting him whenever she isn't around, so ironically, it's hard to tell if this is him being honest or not.

And I think now's a good time to finally talk about the way Ladybug and Cat Noir's partnership has been portrayed all season, especially since the main themes of the episodes relate to it. Buckle up, Adrien stans, because this isn't going to be pretty.

All season, we have been supposed to sympathize with Adrien as Marinette starts to trust Alya with more things than him. Marinette revealed her identity to her, trusted her to have her Miraculous permanently, and even let her keep her Miraculous even though someone else knew her identity. While some of it is hypocritical, the idea is that Adrien feels like he can be trusted with this kind of knowledge too, when really, he hasn't earned that responsibility.

Adrien has rarely, if ever, taken his job as a superhero seriously.

Not only is he known to flirt with Ladybug in the middle of a fight, he has defied her orders and recklessly sacrificed himself because he thinks Ladybug can do all the work without him.

He has also lashed out emotionally and once threatened to quit being Cat Noir in the middle of a crisis and was willing to let innocent people suffer for personal reasons, and later on actually quit being Cat Noir temporarily while Hawkmoth was about to start World War III because he was wallowing in self-pity.

He once said he isn't cut out for the responsibility that comes with being Ladybug and never learned anything from temporarily using the Ladybug Miraculous.

He has generally refused to respect Ladybug's boundaries and doesn't understand that she doesn't like him that way while he insists they should be a couple.

He outright fell for an evil doppelganger of Ladybug because she said she loved him and turned against the real Ladybug.

And I should also mention that despite hating how Ladybug keeps secrets from him, a lot of Adrien's worst moments have been when Ladybug wasn't around and he never told her about them.

He never told Ladybug that he was the reason Copycat really got akumatized while saying he never lies to her.

He never told Ladybug he contemplated letting thousands of people die because he didn't like not knowing stuff Ladybug knew.

He never told Ladybug he briefly used the Snake Miraculous to get brownie points with her.

He never told Ladybug he figured out her identity and asked her out as soon as he did so.

He never told Ladybug he abandoned Paris to go on a field trip.

He never told Ladybug he was screwing around on patrol and was excited to see someone get akuamtized if it meant spending time with her.

He never told Ladybug how he ignored Rena Rouge's orders because “ShE wAsN't LaDyBuG” and almost screwed up the mission because of it, and also never told her how he smashed a chimney in anger at Rena Rouge being in on the plan.

And he never told Ladybug he gave her replacement attitude after trying to harm her without letting her explain herself.

Why exactly should I support the idea of Ladybug trusting Cat Noir more when Cat Noir himself has kept his own secrets from Ladybug?

Adrien has done absolutely nothing to show he is trustworthy because more often than not, he views the battle with Shadowmoth as a game. He has screwed around when lives were on the line, and we're supposed to see him as responsible? It's kind of funny that Astruc compared Ladybug to Spider-Man, yet he seems to have forgotten that with great power, there must also come great responsibility. If this was a character flaw or a sign he needed to grow up, I'd be more accepting, but the fact that the writers think Adrien is a great superhero is laughable with how much evidence has proved the contrary.

In contrast, Alya, despite only being Marinette's confidant for a few episodes, has shown to take being a hero more seriously. She's helped her escape to transform, analyze the Guardian texts, and has been shown to work well on her own as Rena Rouge while helping out Marinette. I'm not trying to say she's an amazing character (“Rocketear” in particular has shown she still has problems with keeping secrets), but compared to Adrien, she seems to be more capable of handling top-secret information with Marinette, and more importantly, doesn't view being Rena Rouge as a way to have fun like Adrien does being Cat Noir. I'll go more into detail with that next time.

But yeah, this scene is how the episode ends, and what did I think of it?

I'm honestly not sure which episode I think is worse, this one or “Queen Banana”. On the one hand, every frame of “Queen Banana” could easily be replaced by an image of Astruc flipping the bird and the overall message of the episode would remain unchanged, but the fact that all of the writers think that everything Adrien does in this episode is okay and that we should feel sorry for him in this episode is just as bad, if not worse. 

As awful as Chloe was portrayed in “Queen Banana”, it was clear it was intentional on the writers' part, but Adrien doesn't get that excuse once much like he has all season. As far as Astruc's team thinks, Adrien is an incredible superhero even when he honestly attempted to harm someone with a superpower that can cause grievous harm at best. Yet again this season, in the show's attempt to make me feel sorry for Adrien, it made him look even worse. In any other show, he would obviously be called out for his incredibly unheroic actions.

Even putting him aside, the writing in this episode is still AWFUL. The whole reason Ladybug was benched had several plotholes and poor communication with Cat Noir that only made the fight with Robostus even harder, Shadowmoth's plan to waste a potentially useful Sentimonster to reuse a single Akuma was one of the dumbest plans he's ever had, and barring the ending, the action was just forgettable.

There were a few okay moments sprinkled throughout the episode (more than I can say for “Queen Banana”), so I'm still not sure if I should call this the worst episode of the show or still give that honor to “Queen Banana”. I guess I'll leave that choice up to you and let you pick your poison for now.

I mean, it's not like there's going to be an even worse episode down the line this season, right?

RIGHT???

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #alya cesaire #rena rouge #rena furtive #scarabella #max kante #pegasus #markov #robostus #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #shadowmoth #shadow moth #nathalie sancoeur #mayura #tikki #plagg #nooroo #duusu

[velvet-games]

hi I designed an arcane oc at 3am one day so here are my delirious sketches

initial brainstorming stuff~

I had a veeeeery rough idea of what I wanted to do at this point. I set some goals since I’d designed an arcane oc before, but that design got too caught up with what made sense and it ended up being really boring and restrictive (hence, the “fun to draw” goal for this new one) 

random outfit stuff~

this was just me playing around with what looked nice for the most part. I tried to keep the eyes motif constant though, as well as the idea that she’d be going from a closed dress to a more open and floofy one (it’s meant to look like a flower opening up but I don’t think I succeeded at that lol). there’s also some really mild snake imagery since she’s supposed to represent envy. 

when I actually start doing design lol~

this is when I started fleshing backstory stuff out a lot more, as well as making changes to the design(s) after actually knowing what her character was about. the bottom left was supposed to be the final concept piece, but I made the upper right to adapt her character to new lore stuff I came up with. 

digital render~ (no I don’t know how to shade gold I’m sorry ;__;)

okay so what’s invidia’s actual bio?

the main idea of her character is that she starts as someone whose motivations are almost completely derived from envy. she’s born to a high house, always told she’s better than everyone else and deserves more than other people. she hasn’t had to lift a finger to get anything she started with; not her home, not her money, not her clothes, and definitely not her council seat. when she sees someone better than her, she only feels resentment, immediately going into an “if I can’t have it, no one can” mindset. she couldn’t even look at a sunset without envying its beauty. 

while cunning, she usually spends her intelligence only on elaborate ways to sabotage people even slightly better than her, insisting she’s doing it for the sake of equality. she has a fierce sense of justice, but it’s focused on punishment and revenge more than actual deterrence. it’s no noble cause, but she’s inherited her father’s charisma, and the other councilors don’t bat an eye when she wraps up her ideas in a pretty rhetorical bow. 

(quick design note~) she wears opulent and intricate gold jewelry as often as possible to show off her wealth and superiority. the barred corset and dark greens in her usual dress is meant to remind the viewer of a snake, both as a symbol of her house and to associate her with envy (the eye motif does this as well). her clothes are tight-fitting and stiff, sleek in a dignified way but also suffocating. there’s barely a peek of a frill at the bottom of her skirt though; a clue that maybe there’s more to her than her uptight disposition. 

(co. ~) the reason she has multiple designs is that I wanted her to change the way she dresses as her arc progresses. as she grows, she manages to loosen up a little, both literally and figuratively. 

eventually, invidia meets mel medarda. invidia thinks mel is similar to her at first: a cunning woman partial to gold and glory, but finds something else when she looks deeper. one day, during a progress day celebration, invidia begrudgingly speaks to mel after reaching what must’ve been the apex of a human’s capacity to experience boredom. despite her charisma, invidia envies mel, never quite able to automatically get the other councilors on her side the way mel could with ease, but she’s also the only other intelligent person in the room, so to hell with it. 

the conversation actually manages to be engaging despite how distant mel acts. in a rare moment of vulnerability however, mel manages to admit that she’s actually envious of invidia’s natural charm. caught by surprise, invidia tries to ask mel to elaborate, but the moment is gone. mel’s returned to the spotless, indestructible picture of dignity she’s always been. 

invidia’s envy manages to melt just enough for her to actually want to get to know mel more, and the pair begin to talk even when they’re not forced in the same space. mel, recognizing the effect she’s having on her fellow councilor, weaponizes more moments of her own vulnerability to keep invidia invested. it might mean a few future favors, after all. invidia recognizes the manipulation, but carefully indulges in it anyway, not having anyone else to be infatuated with. it’s the first time she’s been able to genuinely feel something close to happiness from interacting with another human being instead of being envious of everything they had that she didn’t. it was addicting. 

something changes after a while though. mel starts being vulnerable just because she wants to share herself with invidia, and invidia starts to see the world in a way she’s never considered before. mel seems to actually want to protect people, not to gain the favor of her constituents, not to keep up a facade of kindness, but out of real, genuine empathy. 

time passes. invidia sells the fancy gold jewelry that she was never really fond of in the first place, pushes the hair from her eyes, and feels love for the first time. starting to see more clearly, she realizes she’s never even bothered to use an ounce of her privilege to help anyone; she hardly even knows half the city. 

one day, cloak around her shoulders and mask over her mouth, invidia steps foot in the undercity for the first time. what she sees is horrifying; who she thought were freeloaders and low-borns were victims, ravaged by shimmer, sick from pollution, dying with no hope to hold on to. she trades what little she brought with her to feed a starving child.

invidia starts visiting zaun more and more, each time more desperate than the last. by the time the next zaunite comes to trial, she can’t bring herself to say “guilty.” it was her own decision a year before to make the crime worthy of a life sentence. 

it’s slow, but invidia’s envy starts to morph into love. the visits to zaun were difficult, but never completely devoid of joy. a child’s eyes lighting up at a toy, a young girl’s neon portrait of invidia, a new invention from a sharp young mind. the love is so sudden and sure that sometimes she feels like she’s drowning in it. invidia looks at her superiors and realizes at times that they might be people too. people who’ve mourned, who’ve cried, who’ve laughed. people that she loved. 

before she knows it, invidia’s become a completely different person. jayce talis, golden boy that he is, shows up, and she doesn’t even want to beat him to death with one of his family’s hammers. in fact, she might even feel happy for him. her lengthy speeches on justice and “equality” soon stumble and falter. she sheds the intricate stitching so emblematic of her past self, and with the help of mel and the citizens of the undercity, starts to make change. the undercity brought sadness and joy to invidia, but it also brought anger. a white-hot fury both at herself and piltover’s complacency. she couldn’t stand to send a thief to prison knowing their family would’ve died without the stolen food. she was disgusted that it’d ever crossed her mind. with a burning passion, talk of punishment and revenge turned into actual solutions. rehabilitation, social spending, even the proposal of independence for zaun. she brought the undercity’s citizens to the council, brought the council to the undercity, forced them to see what inaction had done. while she couldn’t fix everything herself, as her community of supporters and allies grew, she didn’t need to. they were improving things together.

so invidia sits now, years of hatred and envy peeled away and fallen at her feet, listening to a story from a white-haired firelight. she smiles fondly, eyes closing as night settles in, head finding rest in mel’s shoulder. 

she’s glad the sunset’s beautiful. 

---

okay anyway sorry that got way longer than I wanted lol

tl;dr: envious council lady learns how to love through the power of sapphic yearning

okay thanks for reading <3 if you got this far you’re a real one lol

#eyes cw #scopophobia #ommetaphobia #arcane #league of legends #my art #doodles #character design #my ocs #mel medarda #jayce talis #arcane oc #sketches #oc art #arcane ekko #invidia amaren #I recognize I kind of glossed over some of the politics in favor of invidia's personal development #which is #kinda bad #but keep in mind that her mindset shift is meant to be symbolic #I'm not literally saying you can solve 200 years worth of systemic problems yourself and that this should be for your own development #it's more that people generally need to gain power through an empathetic lens and create change #and invidia's a demonstration of what that change can look like #but actual politics is really complicated and requires a lot of people working together with selfless intentions #I might talk about that more in a short story involving her since I think that part's important #but I wanted to focus on her arc here because it's just her bio #and it's long enough as it is lol

[bluewhale52]

RED (M)

Things you need to know about this fic:

1. Hobi is tied up during sex 2. This piece is inspired by a prompt I saw on @creativepromptsforwriting: “Can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?” “Babe, I’m a demon. What do you expect me to do?” (Submitted by: welcome-tothe-mystery-shack)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x female reader

WC: 6.4k

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED!

Genre: idol!au, fantasy!au, supernatural!au, estabished relationship,

Warning: one of the characters is a demon, mention of Hobi’s red suit (yes, THAT one), oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, kinda rough sex but not that crazy rough, slight choking, for once Hoseok is not the dom.

A/N : thank you to the lovely @illneverrecover who really boosted my confidence and enjoyed the story when I wasn’t even sure about it!

Taglist: @gee-nee​

Just over two years ago, Hoseok met you in an upscale club.He remembers the moment he saw you as if it was only yesterday. He remembers seeing you all by yourself at the bar in the VIP section, your finger circling the mouth of your martini glass lazily. He remembers the blood red dress you wore- how it was so conservative that it covered you up completely, but it hugged you in all the right places. He remembers the way you looked at him- as if you were hungry for him- and it still sends shivers down his spine to this day. 

You approached him that night- nothing unusual for him, men and women flock to him because of his idol status- and he was instantly enraptured. The piercing gaze you gave him rendered him immobile. The swaying of your hips hypnotized him completely that he forgot where he was. And somehow, SOMEHOW, he found his members all gone- to the bar, to the dance floor, to the restroom, who knew. Then you sat yourself next to him, your long fingers trailed from his shoulder down to his thigh. Your mouth whispered such filthy things in his ears and he thought he was going to come in his pants.

Hoseok agreed too easily at your invitation to go back to your place. He had never gone to anyone’s home for a hookup- it was simply too dangerous- but he did not even think twice when you invited him. There was something about how you drew out his desires, almost as if you were feeding off them to satiate your carnal hunger. Though the night was a blur to him, he remembers the lustful, searing passion he had with you. He also remembers waking Jimin up when he returned to the dorm in the early morning, begging him to help cover up all the marks you had left on his neck and collarbones; he was too embarrassed to face the stylists later that day. 

That one night hook-up turned into several nights, and ignoring Namjoon’s warning, Hoseok continued to see you whenever he was in Seoul. Before he knew it, he started developing feelings for you, and he gathered his courage to ask you out on a proper date.

He could see the shock in your face when he asked, but you eventually agreed on one condition. He had told you he was going to New Zealand for Bon Voyage, and you dared him to do a bungee jump there. If he did it, he got himself a date with you. 

And a date was won, for he faced his fears and took the plunge. You both agreed to have your first date in your apartment, a place you both were comfortable in and also for privacy obviously. Dinner was delicious, conversation flew effortlessly, and Hoseok’s feelings grew even stronger. 

He confessed to you as he was pinning you down on your sofa, kissing you hungrily and passionately. You pushed him away, looking worried and confused.

“Babe, are you all right?” He stroked your hair. “I’m sorry that came out of nowhere, I just wanted to let you know, I really want us to pursue this.” 

His heart dropped when you looked away. Then in a small whisper, you replied to him.

“Hoseok, I’m a demon.”

Hoseok stared at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. He looked at you once his laughter had subsided, then laughed again, albeit a little more unsurely at the sight of your serious expression.

“Wait, no, there’s no such thing.” He paused. “Right?”

“I really am a demon, Hoseok.”

He eyed you skeptically, figuring out which way your joke was going to. 

“Seeing is believing, right?” You snapped your finger and produced a red flame on your palm. 

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “How.. how did you do that? That’s such a cool magic trick!”

However, he gulped audibly when your facial expression fell. Anyone would be excited to show off a cool magic trick, but you looked… dejected? 

“Hoseok,” you said softly. “You trust me, don’t you? You know that you’re safe, as long as you’re with me.”

“O...kay….” he chuckled nervously.

You stood up and took a deep breath. The apartment turned pitch dark, and your body was bathed in red flame, providing the only source of light. Your eyes turned red, staring him down as your mouth turned into a wicked smile. Hoseok sat frozen on the sofa, fear paralyzing him, finally realizing this was indeed no mere magic trick. Then you raised your arms, and luminous green shadows appeared behind you, ugly and vicious. You leaned down toward Hoseok, and he immediately tried to back away. With a gesture of your hand, two streaks of green slithered around his body, holding him in place. 

“Trust me, Hoseok.” you whispered, then you placed your palm over his heart, and to his horor, you drew out a thin black smoke out of his chest. You then twirled it around your long finger. “This is fear,” you explained, “I pulled this out of you, just a little bit, not all, because I… well I like it when you’re a scaredy cat.”

The green shadows were growling, hungry. “They like negative emotions. Fear, jealousy, greed, they feed on them.”  You blew the black smoke towards the shadows behind you. The green shadows screeched and fought to gobble up the smoke in no time, then you sent them back to the dark abyss with a soft chant. The light came back on, and the flame around your body disappeared. 

You turned to look at Hoseok, once everything was back to normal. He was patalyzed still- eyes unblinking, ears ringing, heart beating fast and brain malfunctioning over what he had just witnessed. 

“You… you’re..” he finally snapped out of his shock, “you’re a demon.”

You nodded and kneeled before him. “I am, Hoseok. And I think I have feelings for you too.”

Hoseok gasped. Then it all went black. 

Hoseok finally came to, and he found himself in your bed, tucked underneath your blanket. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and his head. He tried to recall what happened before he fainted, but he was distracted by the sounds from  outside your bedroom.

Hoseok gingerly got out of bed and walked out, still rubbing his head. Then he found you in the living room with... Yoongi?

“Hyung?”

Yoongi gave him a silent wave as a way of greeting.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok sat down on the sofa. He noticed you were keeping your distance from him. “What’s going on?”

“Hoseok,” you called his name gently, “do you remember what happened?”

Hoseok tilted his head, trying to recall. He remembered having dinner with you, kissing you, and then…. Hoseok recoiled at the memory of red flame and green shadows. You winced at his reactions.

“Hoseok, please calm down, don’t faint on me again.” You pleaded. 

Hoseok snapped his head towards Yoongi. “Hyung?”

“She told me what happened, Seok-ah, down to the scary bits that knocked you out.”

Hoseok found your eyes again. “So, it’s true then, you’re really a demon?”

“Yeah…” you shrugged your shoulders. “Technically a succubus, but I prefer being called a demon.”

“How… what... “ Hundreds of questions ran through his mind. He looked back at Yoongi for help, and he was shocked to see how unaffected Yoongi looked. “Hyung, did you know all this while? And, why are you here? How can you be so calm?” Hoseok gasped. “Wait, are YOU a demon too?”

“Weirder things have happened.” Yoongi answered nonchalantly.

“Did she show you all the flames and shadows? And they didn’t bother you?”

Yoongi shook his head. “She said I’d be safe, so no, it didn’t bother me much. A bit scary, yes, but I was okay.”

Hoseok stared at Yoongi in amazement, confused at how he was taking the news so easily. So instead, Hoseok stood up to pace back and forth, trying to gather his thoughts. “Okay. So you’re a demon, technically a succubus…”

You nodded.

“... so, did you ever suck my soul? Or tried to? Do I still have a soul?”

You wrung your hands. “I never did, well, I mean, when I first saw you in that club, yeah I wanted your soul so badly because I could smell its purity. You were so tempting. And I did take you home planning to suck it out of you, but I couldn’t do it. Not that night and any nights after.”

Hoseok looked  at you, hearing what you said but not fully comprehending it. He looked at Yoongi for help, but his friend simply shrugged again. “I admit this is a lot to take in, but, she hasn’t hurt you so far.”

“Okay, so you don’t want my soul.” You shook your head. “And what about my members? Do you want their souls?”

“No, of course not! If I wanted theirs, I’d have slept with every single one of them. And I didn’t. Nor do I ever plan to. I just… I just want to be with you.”

Hoseok swallowed hard at your confession. Despite everything that had been revealed to him, he still wanted to be with you too. But he had so many questions yet to be answered. “So, you’ve sucked other people’s souls before?” 

“Well yeah, that’s my job. I have a monthly quota to meet.”

“A quota? What do you mean, a quota?” Hoseok asked, his curiosity peaked. 

“Do you honestly think I’m in this world, just for fun? If I want to keep this amazing apartment, and the amazing fashion labels I have in my wardrobe, I have to work for it.”

“How does it work?” Hoseok asked. “You just go around seducing humans, then suck their souls and... file your report?”

“Basically, yes. But, I don’t do all that seducing anymore, not after I met you.” Hoseok’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone else. So I had to find other ways to keep my job performance up.”

“So what do you do now?” It was Yoongi who spoke.

“Well, I don’t like being called a succubus because, honestly I’m much more than that. Since I don’t partake in any.... activities… anymore, now I’m more like a wicked cupid, if that makes sense?”

Hoseok pinched his nose. “It doesn’t; explain to me? To us?”

You took a deep breath. “Basically, I play matchmaker to cheaters. For example, I set  up a man cheating on his wife with a woman cheating on her husband. I do that a lot these days. It’s boring, and their souls are already corrupted, so they’re not valued as much as purer souls.” you pouted. “It’s a lot more work but it’s the only way to keep myself just for you.”

“So you just make people have sex with each other?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah, I have to watch them do it,” you made a disgusted face. “It’s easiest to suck their souls out in the moments when they lose control, you know?”  

“So… you watch them?” Hoseok was embarrassed that he was more intrigued than disturbed. 

“Yes....” You narrowed your eyes at him, “... do you... want to watch too?”

Hoseok blushed at your question. “No, no, I don’t, of course not!” He paused for a second. “But, if I wanted to... I could?”

“OKAY!” Yoongi piped up before neither Hoseok nor you spoke. “So the gist of this conversation is that you” Yoongi pointed at you, “are a demon who doesn’t do all the demonic things anymore so that you can build a relationship with him. Correct?“  

You answered Yoongi with a nod, and Hoseok felt a squeeze around his heart; he felt happy that you were willing to make changes to be with him. His brain, however, kept sounding the alarm, screaming at him to step out of this abnormality. 

Hoseok excused himself, and then dragged Yoongi to your bathroom. 

“Hyung, this is crazy, right? I’m crazy that I still want to be with her right?” 

“Honestly, Hobi. If you want to be with her, be with her. If she wanted you soulless, or dead, she’d have done it a long time ago. You were so into her before finding out her true-self. And so far, I think she’s been upfront, as honest as she could.”

“You’re right,” Hoseok paced in the small space. “I do like her, a lot. And I don’t feel… threatened? Or scared? Like it’s a shock, but I’m surprisingly okay with all this.”

“Good, then. So you guys just need to work it out. Maybe ask her what her weakness is, you know? Every demon has that one weakness, right? It’ll be like an exchange of trust. You trust her not to take your soul, and she trusts you not to annihilate her.”

“Hyung, that can’t be healthy, to hold each other at gunpoint.” Hoseok chuckled nervously, but made a mental note to bring it up to you. “Hang on, why did she call you here?”

“I’m the most sensible of the seven of us.” Yoongi answered confidently. “Would you rather Jin Hyung be here screaming his heart out?”

Hoseok waved Yoongi off. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for being here, Hyung.”

Yoongi opened the door. “I’m leaving now, You guys talk it out, okay?”

Hoseok stayed with you that night, asked you all the questions needed to be asked, and when the sun rose, you became his girlfriend.

“Hobi Hyung!” Jimin bellows from the door. “Noona is here!”

You follow him inside the apartment. Once you and Hoseok became official, he was only too excited to introduce you to his members. Your real identity is still a secret however, except to Yoongi. 

You linger in the kitchen, waiting for your boyfriend. “So, where are you guys going today?” Jimin asks.

“Just dinner, at that Japanese place he went to a few weeks ago. Then maybe some night shopping” 

“You know,” Jimin rubs his chin, “I don’t understand how Hyung does it. Whenever he’s out with you, no one, and I mean, no one is able to spot him.”

You shrug. “He disguises himself well behind his mask and hat.”

“Yeah right,” Jimin snickers as Hoseok comes out of his room. “You’re telling me no one recognises him in THAT? That screams J-Hope of BTS, Noona.”

You look over to where Jimin is pointing. Hoseok is wearing a bright blue jacket with a large FILA across the back. His beanie is maroon red, and his pants are moss green with colourful accessories and pins. His signature little bag is slung across his chest; today he has chosen yellow with rainbow flowers. He will probably wear his orange sneakers to complete the look.  

“Then I guess we’re just lucky, Chim.” You beam at Hoseok as he comes nearer. You are lucky indeed. 

“Ready?” He asks after giving you a kiss. You nod. “Don’t wait up for us, Jimin.”

Jimin eyes you playfully. “Not planning too, Hyung. Have fun!”

You and Hoseok walk hand-in-hand leaving his apartment and down to the parking lot. Once inside his car, he asks. “What were you talking about with Jimin, babe?”

“Oh you know,” you fasten your seatbelt. “He wonders why no one recognises you whenever we venture outside.”

Hoseok chuckles as he starts the engine. “Well, the last time anyone tried to take photos of us, their phones burst in flame and you sent them to have an orgy in a dingy bar.”

You cackle. “That was fun. And it helped me meet my target. I should do that again sometime soon.”

“Well, can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?" Hoseok asks.

"Babe, I'm a demon. What do you expect me to do?" You retort. “If they don’t bother you, I won’t do anything to them, you know that.”

“I never thought I’d have a guardian demon.” Hoseok laughs heartily. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

You shoot him a sweet smile. “But you know, I do miss torturing a human. I miss their cries, their patheticness. How they promise me the world if only I would give them release. I miss that power.”

“Well,” your boyfriend clears his throat. “You can torture me. Like not that painful kind of torture. But you can make me cry and beg.”

You snap your head towards him. It takes all the power within you to tame the ferocious desires suddenly bubbling in you. “You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course, I want to make you happy.” He reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Just… don’t suck my soul.”

“Of course not. I would never.”

“Okay then. Should we just head to your place now?” Hoseok switches lanes, getting ready to make a u-turn.

“Yeah, fuck dinner. Let’s go home now.”

Hoseok thinks he has died and gone to heaven- or maybe, hell?- when you come out of your walk in wardrobe. You have put on the sexiest, the most tantalizing lingerie he has ever seen, and it has the same colour as his red suit, the one he wore in his concert that sent Army all over the world crazy. 

The teddy hugs your body in all the right places; the deep v-neck shows off your cleavage, the lace covering your breasts is cut so delicately, and hangs on a little string to keep everything together. Below the lace, however, is all see through. He can see your belly button, and the mark of Hell just below it. His eyes move further down, and he gulps. He could see your bare sex, already weeping.  The teddy is high cut too, baring your hips and making your legs look even longer. And when you turn, that sorry excuse of a fabric disappears between your ass cheeks only to reappear at your lower back, going up into a series of intricate web on your back. 

Then Hoseok looks at what you have in your hand. A red silk rope. He looks back up to you. You give him a wicked smile.

“What are you waiting for? Get undressed for me, Daddy.” You instruct him.

He immediately takes his clothes off, and you stop him before he removes his boxers. “Those are for me to take off.” You slyly tease, earning a grin from him.

“Get on the bed.” Hoseok obediently does as you ask. “Hands up.” You grab his wrists, and you bind them to the bed posts with your silk rope, tightly enough that he winces slightly. You then straddle him, raking your nails up and down his lean, hard torso. He writhes underneath you. You slide further down so that you rest directly above his now hard cock.

“Oh God,” Hoseok gasps as he feels your wetness through his boxers. You tut in disapproval, and lean down to nip and suck on his chest harshly.

“We don’t say that word in this house, Daddy. You should’ve known better.” You chastise him. You gently rub the purple mark you have just left on his chest. You lay our palm flat against his nipples, rubbing the stiff peaks.

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he pants, “I won’t say it again.”

You bend down so your face hovers over Hoseok’s. You rub your nose against his, then your lips ghost over his mouth and along his jaw. You smile when you hear him whimper. 

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“I do, baby. I love you. Kiss me, please?”

You kiss him passionately,  the last act of intimacy before you start playing with him. You roll your hips, and you feel his body jerks slightly. You hold him down, as your mouth swallows his moans and your dripping core rubs against his hardness.

You sit back up, your hands back onto his chest, and your hips continue to roll. You watch him squirm underneath you. His hands are balled in tight fists, his arms flexing, showing the sinewy muscles. You trail a finger from the inside of his elbow, down the biceps, and to his shoulder and collarbone.

“You’re so fucking hot, Jung Hoseok. Remember that night we met? Once I got you here, I didn’t even want your soul anymore, I just wanted you to fuck me senseless.”

Your finger goes further down along his pec, and circles around his hard nipple. You flick it gently and Hoseok closes his eyes as he suppresses a moan. You raise your finger to his lips, prodding them open.  

“Suck.”

Hoseok envelops your digit immediately, pressing his tongue flat against it. His head starts bobbing, sucking your finger until he is drooling. You raise yourself up to your knees, and Hoseok groans at the loss of your wetness on his boxers. But then he moans around your finger as you slither up towards his chest. Your sex, covered in the most ridiculously see through material, is right in front of him. He can see clearly how you have soaked the fabric, your pussy lips swollen and ready for him to feast on. He looks up at you, eyes pleading. He is desperate for your taste.

You return his stare, and tilting your head, you pull your finger out of his mouth. Then you run it from the bottom of your neck, down to the valley between your breasts, and further south it goes. Hoseok whines at the wet trail of his saliva down your teddy, and when your finger slides over your covered pussy, he lets out a loud moan.

“Hmmm, what is it, Daddy?” You slide your finger back and forth, his saliva all but replaced by your own juices. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, yes please.” Hoseok can’t believe how whiny he sounds. He has never been on anyone’s mercy before. 

You pull the lingerie over your cunt aside, and you watch Hoseok’s eyes widen even more as you slip your wet finger inside you. He jerks forward, only to be held back by the restraints around his wrists. 

“Oh please… please…” he implores, “let me taste you please.”

You continue to finger yourself, ignoring his pleas. You push in another finger, and then another, throwing your head back at the stretch. He strains further against his restraints; his desperation could probably power him enough to rip the ropes off. 

The squelching sounds your fingers make are so loud in his ears.  “Please, please, baby, fuck let me taste you.” He beseeches you. “Please.”

You look down at your lover. You love how needy he is being for you. “Why Daddy? You’re not enjoying the show I’m putting on for you?”

He licks his lips and swallows hard. “I love it baby, I can smell you from here. I just want a taste, please let Daddy have a taste?”

Chuckling, you grab his hair, jerking his head back. Then you pull your fingers out and wipe them on his lips. He pokes his tongue out to desperately lick at the honey smeared around his mouth. You then shove your fingers in, and he immediately sucks on your digits, licking them clean. He closes his eyes and groans at the taste of you. You continue to rut yourself on his chest.

“Taste good, Daddy?” You stroke his hair. He nods meekly. “Do you want more?”

He mumbles his answer around your fingers. “Yes, yes please baby girl.”

You pull your fingers out, now drenched with his saliva. You raise yourself up and shuffle further up so that you’re right above his head. Your teddy is still pushed to the side, and you rub your fingers over your wet slit. 

“Shit baby, let me go, let me finger you, hmm?” 

“Shut up and enjoy the show.”  You plunge your fingers in again, and Hoseok’s moans at the sight drowns out yours. You start to fuck yourself, with your lover underneath watching you, praising you and encouraging you to cum. Just before you reach your peak however, you stop, and you remove your fingers. Wiping them on his mouth, he greedily laps at them again, savoring every drop of your taste you are offering him.

“Such a good Daddy,” you pur, “I haven’t cummed yet, do you want to make me cum with your tongue?”

Hoseok nods zealously. He shifts his body further so that he lies fully on his back, his head flat on your pillows. You can feel his hot breaths on your sex, ready to devour you. You lower yourself to his mouth, and his tongue immediately darts out at your opening, collecting all your leaking juices.  

“That’s right Daddy, drink me up.” You rock your hips above him, enjoying his wet organ exploring you. You reach down and pull back the skin above your pussy, revealing your throbbing clit. He moans and clamps his mouth over your nub. He alternates between sucking and flicking it, determined to bring you to orgasm. 

“Daddy, that feels so good,” you encourage him, grabbing a fistful of his hair again. “Make me cum with your tongue. Make me feel good, Daddy.”

Hoseok goes into overdrive. His body is tense, vibrating, he is focusing all his might to get you to your climax. And finally he is rewarded. He feels your core drip more as your thighs shake, and then you curse loudly, sending the lights in your room flickering. 

Once your heart beat returns to normal, you lie down next to him. Turning his head to face you, you kiss him slowly, savoring your taste on his lips. “Such a good Daddy,” you praise him, “making me cum so good.”

Hoseok beams at your praise. “Untie me, baby girl. I can make you feel even better.”

You tsk at him. “I want to make you suffer more.” Hoseok mewls. You pat his head and look at his bound hands. “Are your wrists hurting?”

He whines louder, mixed with laughter. “I just want to touch you. Please.”

“I like you tied up like this,” you trail your fingers up and down his chest. “I like having you helpless and completely under my control.”

Hoseok shudders all over. He has never felt this desperate before. He just wants to touch you, to pin you down and please you over and over. If only he could get out of the damn restraints. 

You can see the desperation in his eyes, and you decide to reward him. You pull down the straps of the teddy off your shoulders, and you smile sinfully as you peel the lace off your breasts, presenting them for his viewing pleasure, but definitely not for touching. Hoseok bites down on his lower lip. You lean over his torso, to reach your bedside table. In doing so, your breasts brush his chin, and he instantly mouths at whatever flesh he can reach, making you giggle.

You dig around the drawer of your bedside table, angling your chest to Hoseok’s mouth so that he can finally capture a nipple. Placing the perky tip between his teeth, he bites down on it to elicit a yelp out of you, before blowing at it and flicking it with his tongue. After grabbing an item from the drawer, you sit back up, and he cries as your nipple leaves his mouth. 

“See what I have Daddy.” You show him the item in your hand; it is a small bullet vibrator. You turn it on. The soft whirring fills Hoseok’s ears. 

“I didn't know you have toys.”

“Oh, I do.” You shuffle down to his crotch, “I just never need it when I’m with you. You always please me so well. But I think we can have a bit of fun tonight, hmm?”

You place the vibrator on his lower abdomen, just above his boxers. Then you peel the teddy off your body, slowly, giving him a striptease. Once naked, you bring the lingerie to his mouth, and he obediently sucks whatever arousal you have leaked onto the fabric. Satisfied, you then move back down and grab the waistband of his underwear, and you turn to look back at him. His eyes are closed, jaw clenching as the little tremors from the toy run through his body. You pull his boxers down slowly, and his red angry cock pops out and flops over the vibrator, making him groan aloud.

You take the vibrator and run it up and down his length, as you lean down to lick the precum off his tip. His body jerks violently, his hands pulling hard against the ropes. 

“Don’t break my bed posts.” You warn him, tapping the vibrator on his cock. “I’ll be very upset.”

“I can buy you a new one.” His breathing is erratic. “Shit, that feels so fucking good.”

“Hmm, does it? How about here?” You move the vibrator to his balls. He screams at once. You laugh mockingly at him. “Oh Daddy, did I almost make you cum?” Hoseok curses. 

You press the vibrator back on the base of his cock. “How much do you want to fuck me?”

“So so bad, please. Let me fuck you. Let me feel you on my cock. Please.”

“Will you give your soul to me, for exchange of a fuck?” You tease him.

Hoseok whimpers. “Take everything of me, I’m all yours.”

“Tsk tsk,” you tut. “Did you forget who I am, Daddy? You should never say that to a demon.”

“Not fair, not fair.” Hoseok is breathless. You move the vibrator closer to his balls again, and he sobs. “Ah, I want to cum in your cunt, please. Please.”

“You don’t want my mouth, Daddy?” You give his length a fat lick, while pressing the toy harder onto his testicles. His cock twitches and his body jerks. You see the muscles of his thighs tightening. “You’re not allowed to cum yet, Daddy!”

“I’m fucking trying not to!” Hoseok bellows. 

You laugh heartily. “All those times you edged me, this is payback.” You lick the head of his cock, and give it little sucks. He thrashes his head on the pillow.

“Please, please…” he begs again.

“Please what, Daddy?” You are stroking and licking his shaft lazily. 

“Suck me or ride me… fuck I don’t care! I just want to be in you, anywhere, please!”

You hum against his length as you move the vibrator to his inner thigh. His legs shake and he lets out a very loud, frustrated moan. You decide that you have teased him enough. Moreover, your sex is sopping wet and throbbing, completely ready for his cock.

Putting the vibrator aside, you straddle him. You both moan as your soaking center meets his hard length. You rock your hips back and fro, coating the whole of his length with your juices. You press down harder on him, sandwiching his cock between the lips of your pussy and his own abdomen. 

“Can you feel how wet I am, Daddy? You’re making me so wet.”

Hoseok is unable to reply. You see him biting his lip and closing his eyes so tightly, as if the action would help him stop from climaxing early. You reach down and grab his cock, all slippery and lubricated now. You position the head of his cock at your entrance, then you slowly sink onto him. You stop halfway however, and order him to open his eyes to look at you.

Holding his gaze, you slam your hips down until he fully impales you. He hisses loudly as your tightness envelops him. “So tight, ah fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

You roll your hips as your inner walls continue to squeeze him, almost daring him to come. Then, getting your knees in position, you start riding him. You reach out for your vibrator and turn it back on. You pull back the skin over your clit, and you press the little device on your bud as you continue to bounce on Hoseok’s cock.

Hoseok curses- the feeling of your cunt contracting around his cock and the pulses from the toy is pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He is not sure if he can hold out much longer. You see his face scrunching up, a tell-tale sign that he is close. So you toss the vibrator aside and lean down towards him. Your hips falter a bit, their rhythm slowing down at the new position. 

You can hear how wet you are riding his cock. The sounds fill your ears, and combined with the smell of sex in the air, you start to get dizzy. The man underneath you is spewing filth and praises at the same time, heating your body further. Licking your lips, you close your hand around his neck, gently. His eyes widen, but he does not protest. You tighten your grip, and he sucks in a breath audibly. Your thumb grazes his adam apple, before you move up to his pulse point. Your mouth instantly waters at how fast it is pulsating; suddenly, the hunger for his pure soul is getting stronger within you.

Hoseok sees your eyes flash red for a moment, and he calls out your name. “Stay with me,” he whispers. “Baby. I trust you. Stay with me.”

His sweet voice brings you back, and you let go of his neck. Your breath is erratic now, and your hips pause. You shake your head to clear the red haze out of your mind. You look down at your boyfriend, and amidst the lust and the desperation, there is love oozing out for you. You take a deep breath, then placing your hands on his solid chest, you murmur, “Hoseok... Daddy, make me cum.”

Hoseok snaps at your request. He twists his wrists to grip the rope that binds him, and he plants his feet firmly on the bed. Then like a man possessed, he starts jackhammering up into you. You keep your body still above him, giving your body to him fully. You arch your back as his cock continues to bruise your hole, enjoying the sensation as he spears you over and over at a maddening pace. The pressure quickly builds in your core, your pussy clamping down on his member.

Hoseok’s hair is matted on his forehead. Sweat has broken all over his body, his muscles tensing as he feels you getting closer to your climax. He is nearing his peak too, and he wants to free fall with you.  “Baby… baby, please… can I cum?” 

“Yes, yes, Daddy, fill me with your cum.”

Hoseok snaps his hips faster, and he does not slow down when you finally climax. As the powerful orgasm sweeps through you, you let out a deafening shriek, and red flames engulf your body while your room is enveloped in an unearthly green glow with the shadows emerging, eager to be freed to feed on the lust that fills the air. Hoseok gasps at the sight, but he continues fucking you through your orgasm, until, at long last, he cums in your pussy, shooting his seeds deep into you as he screams your name.

You are brought back at the sound of your name. The fire immediately dies out, the green glow in your room subsides and the shadows disappear as you come down from your high. You can feel Hoseok’s cock throbbing inside you, his cum leaking out from your hole. Stilling your breathing, you reach for his bound hands to free them. His hands collapse onto the bed, his whole body now limp.

You take his hands, concerned in your face as you rub and kiss his wrists, all red from the restraints. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

Hoseok shakes his head, his eyes closed. His whole body is shiny and slick with sweat. “Fuck, that was out of this world.” He manages to say. His chest heaving up and down.

You smile wholeheartedly with relief and bend down to kiss him. “Let me run you a bath, hmm? I’ll give you a nice massage.”

Hoseok opens his eyes. “OK. It’s the least you can do, for almost eating me up alive.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve never cummed so hard before. I totally lost it.”

A tired but proud smile adorns his face. “You should tie me up more often then, you know, to practice your self-control.”

“I can’t agree more.” You kiss him again and again, apologizing between kisses and professing your love to him. The way his lips are melting against yours and how his tongue licks your mouth is stirring your desire again, but you know he will be too out of it. So reluctantly, you remove yourself and head to the bathroom to prepare the bath you have promised.

An hour later, you and Hoseok lie in bed, naked and fresh from your bath together. He spoons you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body. You fall asleep quickly, comfortable and secure in his embrace. When you stir awake at dawn however, those same arms are spreading and pinning your legs down, as his mouth is latched on your pussy.

“Hoseok...” you hoarsely call out his name. You look down to find his eyes staring back at you from between your legs. 

“Ah, Daddy, that feels good.. .” You sigh contentedly, surrendering yourself to your lover. He eats you out lazily, until he brings you to an orgasm, nothing as earth shattering as before, but delicious nonetheless. Hoseok then climbs up your body and kneels before you. You eagerly suck him until he pulls back, and then he flips you to get you on your hands and knees. He kisses your neck softly as he pushes himself into you.

“Why do you feel so fucking good?” He moans against your neck, enjoying the way your walls close around him. “What power have you got over me, baby girl?”

You gasp as he slowly pulls out before slamming back in. He threads his fingers in your hair and he pulls it to turn your head sideways so he can kiss you as he drags his cock in and out of you, rubbing that sweet spot inside. He keeps his rhythm slow but with purpose, and before long, you both climax together, then collapsing onto the bed.

The sun breaks into your bedroom as you relax in bed, basking in your post-orgasm haze. Hoseok remains on top of you, his heart beating out of his chest against your back. You wriggle to turn around so you can wrap your arms around him, protesting when he is trying to move, telling him that you love the feel of his weight on top of you. 

You stroke his hair, and you feel your chest tightens as he nuzzles your neck.

“Hoseok, thank you for staying with me.” You surprise yourself as you hear your voice breaks. “I know it has not been easy at all.”

Hoseok leans up and looks lovingly at you, his thumb wiping a tear that has escaped your eye. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, baby. Demon or not, you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Happy birthday Hobi 💜

Published 18022021

#thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #thetruthuntoldnet #noonasinnetwork #purplearmynet #hoseok smut #bts smut #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok #bts fanfic

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T-Caring For Your Tiny Test Subject

Welp. (⓿ ◡ ⓿) I made more. Maybe real content will resume soon, but until then...tiny Erebus

←Previous - Masterlist

Ingredients: noncon partial stripping/nudity, noncon touching (unsexy)

“You know,” Neteri mused as she turned Erebus over in her hand, “you’re kind of filthy from your little adventure. Maybe I should-”

“No-”

“Yeah.” She tightened her grip as Erebus squirmed, looking down at him with a devilish grin. “Let’s get you cleaned up, lil guy.”

“I-I can do that myself Neteri you don’t need to-”

“I do need to because it will be so absolutely adorable.”

“That’s the dumbes-” Erebus’s protest was silenced as she placed one of her fingers over his mouth. He glared at her, debating biting her for a moment. She’d only have herself to blame if he drew blood...still, the last thing he needed was for his situation to get any worse. As per usual, Neteri was going to get what Neteri wanted and he’d just have to suffer through it. Even so, this...this was not going to be easy. Already, an awful feeling was stirring in his gut at imagining her…bathing him. He shuddered, trying to just put it out of his mind for now.

Once they got back to her office, Neteri plopped him back into the jar and screwed on the lid before taking him back to his cell. She set the jar on the desk and crouched down to his level. “I’m going to go get everything I need, and then I’ll be back, so you just chill until then, okay?” Erebus just quietly nodded from where he was seated with his arms wrapped around his folded legs. He tried to take deep breaths once he was alone, trying not to let himself get freaked out before it even started.

He would be fine. Neteri was always gentle with him as long as he was cooperative, so he wasn’t too worried about this experience hurting. He was far more worried about how much she was going to be touching him, about how exposed he was going to be, about how helpless he was going to feel. Not that he wasn’t already helpless right now, stuck inside a glass jar, but there was a whole new level of powerlessness in being held tightly in her hand. When he’d been his real size, he could always take comfort in his significant height advantage over her, the vague idea that he could easily overpower her if he tried. But now, she could do whatever she wanted with him with just her bare hands, and there was nothing he could do to fight back.

By the time she had returned with a relatively shallow bowl and a large cup, he had steeled himself for what was about to occur. Still, when she reached her hand in the jar, he pressed himself back against the glass, because he didn’t want this. “You’ll be alright little guy, the water’s nice and warm for you.”

“T-that’s not what I-hey! I can take that off mysel-”

“I’m sure you can,” Neteri said as she pulled his shirt off over his head, his struggles doing absolutely nothing to slow her down. “But this is more fun.”

“Not for me.”

“Who owns who here, Erebus? Now stop wiggling or I might take off more than your pants, and neither of us want that.” Erebus grumbled but stopped trying to resist, feeling his face flush at her bare hands against his skin. She poured some of the water from the cup into the dish before gently setting him down in it. He felt himself relax despite everything; the water did feel good and it’d been so long since he’d had a bath. Probably not since...since he’d lost everything. Maybe this would be alright…

Yeah, it felt sort of nice as she poured the warm water over his head with a thimble and started to wash his hair with two of her fingertips. He leaned into her touch just a bit-no no no wait this was Neteri she’d shrunk him and this was humiliating he wasn’t supposed to enjoy it, and even if he did, there was no way he’d let her catch on to it. He put on his best glare and hugged his knees close to his chest. Neteri laughed. “You always look so cute when you’re angry, but now that you're tiny it’s even cuter! You’re just perfect like this, huh?” She tilted his chin up, and he tried to turn away, but she forced him back. “Keep your head tilted back, I’m going to rinse your hair and I don’t want it to get in your eyes.”

“Fine.” She was always so unfairly tender with him, and part of him wished she would be rougher, that she would stop making it so hard to hate this. Even when she pried his arms away from his legs and forced him to uncurl so she could wash the rest of him, she was never anything but gentle. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately? He wasn’t sure), the feeling of her fingers scrubbing his body ended up being more uncomfortable and invasive than nice, and it was easier for him to hate it. 

And he...he hated it, really hated it, so much so that he didn’t know how much more he could take, because he just wanted her hands off of him, not all over his bare skin, over all of his scars, at the same time. Erebus tried to squirm away, but there was firmness behind Neteri’s gentle grip, rendering his attempts futile. He was just as helpless as he had feared being, and he could hardly bear it. She was almost done, she had to be, she’d gotten just about everywhere and he wasn’t sure if his face could get any redder, if the awful feeling in his stomach could get any worse.

He fought back an audible sigh of relief as she started rinsing him off, glad that this experience was almost over. Once she was done, Neteri slid her thumb under his chin, tilting it up. “There, you’re all clean now.” She stared at him a moment more, stifling a laugh. “You’re all embarrassed it’s so adorable. I do wish I could keep you like this.”

“You’d better not-”

“No, no, I can’t, that would use up far too much of my magic power, shrinking you every day. And doing procedures on your tiny little body would be way more difficult and not worth it at all. But, a girl can dream,” she sighed. He rolled his eyes, relishing the fact that she’d have no idea that he did it. She released him, looking around on the desk. “I forgot to get a towel for ya; let me go grab one from your bathroom.” 

Erebus eyed the edge of the bowl as soon as she turned around. The sides weren’t that steep, and he could probably climb them, which would earn him a little moment of freedom, not stuck inside anything or held back by her giant hands. He stood and sloshed towards the edge, deciding it would be best to just try to crawl up the sloped sides. He stepped out of the soapy water, feeling confident enough in his first step that he immediately tried to take another, trusting all of his weight to his foot on the sloped side of the bowl.

A mistake he soon paid for. 

Still coated in soapy residue, his foot slipped on the smooth surface of the bowl, and his forehead immediately slammed into the ceramic. He managed to catch himself before his face slid into the water, and he just stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, staring at his reflection in the water as his head throbbed. Of course he couldn’t even escape from a bowl. Of course. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away as Neteri returned.

“What was that sound, Erebus? You okay?” she asked as she picked him up, examining him.

“It was nothing. I’m fine.” He crossed his arms, hoping she’d just drop it.

But this was Neteri, who rarely dropped it, and seemed to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing. “I dunno bud, you have a lil red spot on your forehead. Did you-” a mischievous grin spread across her face, “did you try to climb out and hit your head?”

“I-so what if I did? It doesn’t matter.” He looked away as she laughed, his face once again burning an unfair amount.

“It does matter ‘cause that is the cutest thing, oh you poor little dear.” She ruffled his hair with one of her fingertips before picking up the cup of clean water. “Alright, close your eyes while I rinse you off one last time.” When she was done, she set him down on the towel she had brought over and got to work drying him off. He let her, just wanting this whole thing to be over with. The towel felt so much rougher now that he was small...that was another thing he missed about home, how soft the towels always were. His sheets and pillows had always been so comfortable, too...he missed his father and everyone, of course, but sometimes he couldn’t help but think about all of the little things. 

Once he was dry, Neteri dropped him back in the jar before throwing a set of small, clean clothes on top of him. “Here, I shrunk those for you, and I think I was able to do it so they’ll get big when you do like your other clothes shrunk with you the first time. Just let me know when you’re done.” She held out her hands to cover the side of the jar facing her, eyes squeezed shut for good measure. 

“You’re good, Neteri,” Erebus called once he’d gotten changed. “Are you going to leave me alone now?”

“Absolutely I will not.” She picked up the jar, holding him at her eye level. “You are at your most cutest ever in the world and I want to be here for every second of it.” Her stomach growled. “Also I have just realized that I forgot about food and neither of us have eaten since this morning and it is definitely past lunchtime so I am going to go get us some food.” She grinned as she set the jar down. “I can give you tiny food oh I’m so excited!” She dashed out the door, calling “I’ll be right back!”

Erebus couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to get something to eat, but he could do without the way Neteri watched him the entire time, occasionally gasping at stupid things like him ripping off part of the chunk of bread she’d given him. She’d shrunk most of his food, so he ate it like normal, but for some reason she tore off a piece of her normal sized flatbread and gave it to him, and there was no way he was just going to bite into something so big. He’d lost a lot of his dignity over these past few months, but he still wasn’t a savage. Besides, she was making him drink out of a thimble, which was demeaning enough. 

She put him back in the jar while she took care of their plates and cleaned up from bathing him. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what stupid thing she had planned next. It would be foolish to assume she wasn’t going to spend the rest of the day bothering him and teasing him and holding him in her hands, since she’d made it very clear how much she was enjoying this. Nothing would be worse than the bath, though. He hoped. 

Once she returned, Neteri picked him up from inside the jar and just stared at him intently. Erebus narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m just trying to decide what to do with you next.”

“You could put me down.”

“Or I could hold you in my hand forever.”

“No.”

“I think I will do that.” She sat down on his bed and laid back, pressing Erebus against her chest, her hand on his back pinning him down on his stomach. His wiggling was, as always, completely useless. He sighed, trying to make himself comfortable and pretending he was just lying on a bed or something. Neteri rubbed her thumb soothingly up and down his back, and soon enough he...found himself...getting tired...

~~~

Neteri resisted the urge to jump up in delight as she watched little Erebus fall asleep on her chest. She’d just wanted to lay down and hold his tiny body for a few minutes, but she’d expected him to struggle longer or glare at her the whole time, not take a nap. Not that it was unwelcome, not at all, he was so precious��like this, and there was no way she’d move until he woke up. She continued stroking his back, smiling down at her little test subject. 

She was going to enjoy every moment she had left while he was small.

Tags: @as-a-matter-of-whump @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpasaurus101 

#i wrote something #erebus #neteri #noncon stripping #partial nudity #noncon touching #tiny whumpee #welcome back to erebus's complicated feelings about neteri touching him please enjoy your stay #hnnnng she is always gentle with her precious boy....esp now that him tiny.... #she would be too powerful if he was tiny all the time #that or the cuteness overload would literally kill her #neteri: *breathes* erebus: ''this fuckin bitch'' #he's getting fed up with this shit #fr erebus why are you so fucking dumb sometimes #you cant climb out of a bowl covered in soap you fucking idiot #please accept that you are in fact entirely helpless right now and move on #also be a man and bite into the giant bread. you know you want to #god erebus WOULD pour the rest of the juice into a glass instead of drinking it straight from the jug #(like when its almost out) #drinking from the jug is one of the most powerful feelings in the world #yeah erebus maybe you wouldnt be such a helpless sad bitch if you just drank the rest of the soda from a 2 liter #also really you're just going to take a nap like that. who are you #neteri pov be like: ❤💕💕❤💕cute bby test subject 😩🥰

[shedobewritingalittle]

off the table

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Din and the reader enjoy a moment of softness together.

Word Count: 1k (just a sweet little Drabble)

Rating: T

Warnings: Sweetness, some angst, din deserves nice things

A/N: look this is probably bad but I just wanted to write also thank you so much for 200 followers I love you all

Din watches from the cot as Y/N kicks off her shoes and socks. Her exhaustion was clearly written all over her face, her movements a lot slower than usual. He'd offer to help her, but last time he did Y/N went into a whole tirade about how her condition didn't render her useless and incompetent. He knew that. Y/N was the smartest person he knows, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to help her out and make sure she was okay.

The Mandalorian stays silent was he watches her from his spot. This is his favorite part, when his riduur strips herself of her thicker outer layers and leaves herself in just her shirt and under clothes. It’s not the lack of clothing that he enjoys (well he does, but that’s not the focal point). It's when her growing bump is finally on display.

Y/N was still early enough that they could keep the fact that she was with child a secret just with certain pieces of clothing. His riduur was worried about somehow jinxing her pregnancy by telling people too soon. She was still early and so many things can go wrong, especially in their way of life Din understood completely and while he watched her even more closely, he didn't do anything that might give up their secret.

"How are you feeling, cyar'ika?" He asks, looking up at Y/N as she walks toward him. She gives him a small sweet smile, one that makes his heart race like he's a teenager. Her hand moves to cup Din's stubble covered cheek as she stands in between his legs. His bare hands move to rest on her waist, wanting her as close as possible. He’s just as bare as she is, his helmet, gloves, and armor heaving been removed as soon as they got into the room.

"Tired. I feel like they're draining me." Y/N replies, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone. Her touches are soft, much softer than he feels like he deserves. Din leans into her touch as pulling her a little closer so her legs are flush against the cot. He's right at eye level with her stomach.

"Ik'aad, you have to take it easy on your mother." Din murmurs softly as her hand slips from his face into his hair. He slowly lifts up her shirt, exposing her stomach to him. Din tries to talk to the unborn child every night, wanting his child to know his voice.

They had found out she was carrying after Luke Skywalker had taken Grogu. Y/N and Din finally got a chance to catch their breaths, which had included visiting the medic on Nevarro. The news had raised their spirits slightly, which was needed after the small green child they considered their adopted son left.

"I wish we can go visit Grogu before they're born, tell him that he's going to be a big brother." Y/N says quietly as her fingers run through his hair. Din looks up at her, his heart swelling in his chest. There's something about her loving Grogu as much as he does that makes Din love Y/N even more.

"Maybe we can. He'd be excited. My aliit all together." Din responds, leaning forward to press his lips against her skin. Y/N smiles down at him as she smoothes out his unruly curls. She would never dare tell anyone else in this Galaxy how sweet her big bad Mandalorian was to her, Grogu, and the baby.

The Mandalorian watches as she sinks down to sit in his lap, her arms moving to wrap around his neck loosely. Y/N rests his forehead against his, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Din’s arms wrap around her, holding her against him just in case she might slip through his fingers. He lets his own eyes shut as they just sit there together. It’s something they’ve been doing more and more. Din needs it, needs to know that she’s with him, that she’s actually with him and all this is happening.

The Galaxy is a cruel, cruel place. It’s constantly ripping families apart, making partners into widows, children into orphans. Din has already had so many things ripped away from him-his parents, his people, his ship, his home, his son-and he doesn’t know if he can handle anymore loss. The bounty hunter is constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, because all of this happiness that he is experiencing, this family that he has-he knows that it can be gone within an instant.

Y/N wasn’t any better. She lived in fear that one day her bounty hunter wasn’t going to return to her or that Grogu would be taken from them again. The child growing inside of her only worsened her fears, because that meant there was one more person to worry about, to be afraid of losing. They needed each other, especially since Grogu was away. Without their small green adorable menace, everything fell far too quiet and lonely, which made it incredibly easy for those worries and fears to settle in. Everything was becoming almost unbearable and Din doesn’t understand what he would do if something happened to his aliit again. To his son, to his unborn child, to Y/N-

Her hand reaches up again, cupping his cheek as if she knew exactly what he is thinking about. Y/N is right here with him. She’s here in his arms, their skin was pressed against each other, holding onto to one another. If he opened his eyes, Din would see her. Grogu was okay. He was completely safe with the Jedi. For once, everything was at ease in Din’s little corner of this vast galaxy and he was able to just sit here with his riduur in his lap, not having to worry about who might be coming after him.

And one day, they’d all be reunited again. His clan of two now a clan of four. And he can’t wait until that day arrives.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x r #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[missorgana]

words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

*

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry,  was  an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t. 

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him. 

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn’t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they  do  watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

*

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you.  No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit. 

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry,  what? What the fuck? 

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s  worth saving . Fucking hell. 

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he-  fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him,  this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no.  Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I  need  to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing,  desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

*

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!” 

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening.  It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam  screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger.  Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is-  Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten.  My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body,  that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore  , he reminds himself.  They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head.  That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves-  loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

#mine #my writing #sambucky #winterfalcon #fanfiction #marveledit #mcu #what if? #marvel fanfiction #sam x bucky #mature rating #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: alcohol #tw: guns #tw: swearing #pre canon #domestic fluff #lost love #miscommunication #angst #love confession #bucky barnes pov #eloquencenet #writerscreed #mcusociety #sabrinasfamily #meghansfamily #lutkasfamily #mcuedit

[percabethfiles]

Charlie

Uh... Hello? Anybody still here? I haven't been around in years and years. But I keep my fandoms stored in some corner of my brain waiting for something to tug them out. And of all things this time it was Taylor Swift re-releasing her old songs, because I used to imagine so many percabeth scenes listening to "Fearless". So have this little something that's been sitting unfinished in my archives for years now.

Remember that time Percy saw Sadie Kane and thought “Hey, this is what mine and Annabeth’s daughter would look like”? Yes.

(Also there are small nods to that fic I wrote about Logan, Hidden Heritage, but I've been meaning to re-write it someday because there were SO MANY PLOT HOLES omg)

When they find out it’s a girl it’s a bit too soon to know for sure, or so the doctor tells them. They’ll have to wait for the next appointment to know for certain. “So don’t go buying any tiny dresses yet,” he jokes and they laugh along, but they’ve been together for approximately eighteen years now, they can tell what the other’s thinking with a glance and the ecstatic grin that breaks through their lips lets him know they’re on the same page. Too late. They’re already thinking plush bow and arrows and a Merida costume for her first Halloween.

Percy tries to keep his cool. As the weeks progress, he tries not to get his hopes up, but in his heart he knows already. They hadn’t really had a preference before, they’d been too happy knowing their baby was fully human and had all its limbs (with the number of deities they’d pissed off, you never knew), but a little girl? It feels right after their two boys, it feels like their family will be complete.

(He thinks about a slight blonde girl with streaked hair and a British accent dropping from the sky on a magic camel, remembers thinking “if Annabeth and I had a daughter…” and his chest squeezes tight with happiness so raw he has a little trouble breathing)

When the doctor beams at them next appointment and says “Congratulations, Jackson family, it really is a girl,” he’s not surprised, but no less elated. He doesn’t hear the lame joke about Jackson Five, he’s too busy trying to be a manly man and not burst into tears because he’s going to have a daughter. When Annabeth’s in the other room paying for the appointment, and he’s waiting for the doctor to print the really impressive high tech 3D picture of the ultrasound, the man asks him “So did you go ahead and buy a tiny dress anyway?”

Percy blushes.

The man shakes his head in amusement. “Every time”.

His work colleagues, proud dads of little girls themselves, try to terrorize him with tales of tea parties and future boyfriends, and Percy thinks somewhere in the middle of all that teasing they mean well, but really, he’s mostly annoyed. It’s not like he’s new to parenthood, he’s got two sons already and they seem to be turning out okay, and before, when Logan and Nathan were just a nice dream for the future, there was Estelle, the little sister Percy had never expected, but loved to bits all the same.

And then Charlie is born.

She’s tiny, warm and pink, all curled up in her yellow cable-knit blanket, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a tiny, tiny beanie, features scrunched into the most adorable variation of a grumpy face. He’s not new to parenthood, he’s been here twice before, but the rush of affection and protectiveness and awe and raw love is just as genuine. He’s smiling like a dork, can’t seem to stop, walking from side to side, avidly searching her traits. She’s bigger than Nate was when he’d been born, but smaller than Logan. Her hair was light, like Nate’s, would it stay blonde or darken with time? Would her eyes be like his or Annabeth’s? And oh, she had her mother’s nose (they all did).

It never fails to amaze him how such a small, vulnerable being can shake up his whole world until it’s made a space for her. And he’s done this before, he’s no first time sailor this time, he’d thought he had it all under control. But she blinks and looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and a frowny face and—they’re green. Her eyes are the blue-green Logan’s are, Percy’s are.

(He’s got two sons who are his life, and he does love all his children equally, but holding his daughter for the first time, he thinks he understands his friends’ warnings. He doesn’t love her more, it’s just… different. It’s special.)

When he goes back to work, Nick takes one look at him and bursts into laughter. He claps him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“I told you.”

He’s completely wrapped around her finger already.

It’s not too different, he finds out. Especially having been pre-trained by Estelle. He’s got to brush up on his Disney princess knowledge, and hair braiding skills. He hasn’t gotten much better at color coordinating the polka dotted bows and tiny shoes, but Charlie is really forgiving. She is a very happy baby, much happier and easy going than any of the boys had been.

She’s also fucking crazy.

She is smaller and skinnier than her brothers, likes to wear frilly dresses and talk to plush animals and dance around the house in a pink tutu, but she’s wild. She never learned to crawl, just held on to the couch until she was wobbling on two feet, and it seemed like the very next day she was running across the house, the mall, the park, and if he turned his eyes away for one second, she was shooting off in the streets and nearly getting run over.

He’d found her dangling from the kitchen cabinets, trying to reach the cowering cat. She had a phase when she thought she could fly and she would climb furniture and stairs and the window sill and just… Launch herself into the air expecting her flying powers to manifest spontaneously. If they hadn’t been trying to raise them away from the whole mythological world, he would have sat her down and clarified that she had the wrong Olympian Grandparent in mind. She might have had more luck jumping into the ocean.

She had a way to jut out her lower lip, and turn those big green eyes on him that could render his every effort to be a responsible parental presence useless.

Besides, she was so funny. He could never muster enough anger to discipline her, because if he found her on the kitchen table covered in peanut butter, somehow sporting a very sticky Mohawk, and looking entirely unapologetic, well, he just couldn’t stop laughing.

One day he’s coming home from work and he hasn’t even pulled the key from the lock when Charlie calls out ‘you’re back daddy,’ in what sounds vaguely like a new jersey accent. He finds her sitting on the floor of the living room, drowning in one of Annabeth’s bathrobes, pink plastic barbie sunglasses on, holding a pooh bear sippy cup with one hand and a pinky stretched out.

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“It’s wine Wednesday, daddy.”

“It’s what?”

“Wine Wednesday.”

He had half a mind to check if her sippy cup actually contained wine because they hid their alcohol way up in the cabinets she can’t reach but that girl could climb like a monkey. He knows he should follow that remark up with some kind of questioning of where she’d even heard of ‘wine Wednesdays’ and then explain that kids don’t drink wine or some other kind of responsible parent speech, but a sudden burst of incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat and he takes refuge in the kitchen, lest he encourages her behavior.

He finds Annabeth there, hand over her mouth, clearly in stitches over their daughter’s performance. He wants to question if she gave her permission to wear her bathrobe but finding his wife nearly doubled over in silent laughter in the kitchen is too much and he finally lets out the guffaw he’d been trying to hold on to.

It’s not the first time Charlie leaves them breathless with laughter, and he’s almost scared of what she’s going to cook up in the future.

Charlie is a hellion.

There isn’t one person safe from her pranks, but she’s so adorable she hardly ever catches hell for it, and she’s learning to use it in her favor – thankfully, just in time for her parents to develop immunity to her puppy eyes. And she’s… difficult, yes, but not always, and not in a terrible way. For all her climbing the roof, organizing illegal cookie sales, getting in fights with her classmates, she’s not a bad kid. She’s got Percy’s penchant for befriending the kids no one wants to go near, and defending her ragtag team of losers. She’s loyal to a fault, and it gets her in trouble often.

She and Nate have epic jealousy fights over everything, including – but not limited to – Logan’s attention, the crayons, the biggest piece of cake and all the videogame characters in the world are not enough, they will always want whatever the other picked. It gives them many, many headaches. Logan, on the other hand, positively spoils her, and whenever Charlie gets in trouble they can be sure to find her hiding behind her big brother while he gives them this solemn look and says “It’s ok, mom and dad, Charlie promises she won’t do it again. We’ve talked.”

When the whole “Logan being attacked by a dracanae in school and thus finding out his Olympian heritage” debacle came to pass, and they started frequenting camp again, there was nowhere in the entire Camp Charlie would rather be than the stables. She’d spend hours there with the Aphrodite kids, brushing the pegasi and talking to them endlessly about all her classmates and her friends, and her dolls, and her new dress, and the new book grandma gave her. It was all really cute until Percy realized the pegasi were talking back, and she fully understood their replies.

And it’s funny, really, because Logan had taken after Percy, to a point where bathing him had been hard as a child because he tended to stay dry in the tub, and Nathan was Annabeth to a T, but Charlie was a perfect mix of them both.

He guesses it makes sense it would be so explosive.

When Charlie is twelve, she gets kicked out of school.

Percy is not overly worried about it himself – the number of schools he’d been kicked out of reached double digits, and this was only her first – but he is worried about how she will feel. Getting the boot from a place that’s housed you for years, where your friends are, where everyone already knows you and having to start over is never pleasant, no matter how used to it you were.

He’d expected the school to have gotten tired of all her pranks and misbehaving, which was fair, he guessed. But when Annabeth comes home from the meeting with the school director, she is seething, and not at their daughter. Charlie is angry too. In fact, it’s the first time he’s ever seen his daughter well and truly pissed off. The two of them are a sight for nightmares, both blondes standing side by side ranting with righteous fury, they look ready to start a revolution. What he gets from her angry snarls and Charlie’s rushed rambling is that Charlie had talked back to a teacher that was picking on the autistic kid and demeaning the thirteen year old who was repeating sixth grade.

She’d called him a brain-washing small minded overgrown bully who, he was quoting, didn’t get enough love from his parents.

And Percy is so proud his eyes even get a little misty.

Because he’s getting old and sentimental and raising kids is very hard. No one knows what they’re doing, not one person, not even the fancy psychologists with those books on raising perfect, well rounded, high-achieving members of society that Annabeth insisted on reading when she was pregnant with Logan. You do your best and you hope for the best, and you don’t know what you get until it’s basically too late to do anything about it. And even if he did have the best mom in the history of the entire world to draw example from, he was also half of an absent Olympian father whose heritage condemned him to dance in and out of battlefields half his life.

He’s always been terrified of being a crap father.

He looks at Charlie cussing out with every mild version of actual cuss words, stalking around the kitchen like a little lioness in a cage, furious at the unfairness of the whole situation, caring less about being expelled and more about who was going to defend her friends from that awful teacher when she’s gone.

His daughter is only twelve, but she’s already so brave, such a force of nature. She won’t stand for injustice, and she won’t take insult lying down. And she’s so kind. She’s growing up, and the person she is slowly turning out to be… is good.

And something in his heart shifts and settles down, smooths over old fears and anxious thoughts.

Percy doesn’t mean to brag, but he thinks he’s not doing half bad as a parent.

#fanfic #pjo #percabeth #percabeth kids #charlie jackson #back at it again with the old unfinished fics #percabeth fanfic

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

101 Open MHA Gen Prompts

I had a very long ask game where people gave me fake titles and I came up with fic ideas to go with them.  Multiple people asked to use some of them as prompts, and some of my friends have lately maligned the lack of gen prompts out there, so I decided to compile them all into a single post.  Almost all of these are gen, aka not shipping, but you can do what you want I’m not your boss.  Everything is free and open to use WITH CREDIT, so have fun with my word vomit.

1. In Dreams I Had the Sun - Being the number one hero isn’t all it’a cracked up to be, Toshinori realizes early on

2. The Chainlink Fence that Held the Ocean - In his new book post-retirement, All Might opens up about his regrets, struggles with mental health, and his issues with the hero system as a whole.  The backlash is swift and intense.

3. Welcome to the Loud Silence - After an injury, Izuku is rendered deaf.

4. Water Since Turned Red - After a villain attack nearly kills All Might, the beach where Izuku used to go to find comfort now feels tainted.

5. all scrap left untouched is bound together - A group hero students who failed the provincial license exam for the third time, effectively ending their careers before they start, get together to take revenge on UA’s first years who beat them out.

6. You’ve saved more more times than you know - Times All Might saved people without his powers, just by being a cool, nice dude.

7. No Amount of Tragedy Can Justify Your Actions - A dying All for One tries to justify his centuries of cruelty to an uncaring Toshinori.

8. To Leave a Cage Locked - One for All is conscious and has a will of its own, one that doesn’t always line up with Izuku’s wellbeing.

9. Okay, who let in the Kraken? - Izuku is the reincarnation of an ancient eldritch horror.

10. keep us alive up above - Izuku and Shigaraki get trapped together somewhere.  Izuku knows he needs the villain’s help to survive and escape, but the other would rather they both die.

11. The world will revolve around me neither less - The ebbs and flows of AFO’s influence over the years.

12. More Roulette, Not Russian - Kids get their quirks swapped.

13. Patron Saints - Toshinori teaches a class about pre-quirk superhero comic characters and their influence.

14. Don't Come Back - Touya Todoroki’s first few weeks after a severe injury resulted in his father abandoning him.

15. The Blessed and the Fool - Toshinori meets up with a few of his ua classmates after retiring.

16. Not Your Sacrifice - Some of the other kids have started adopting some of Izuku’s self sacrificing habits and the teachers are concerned.

17. Break in the Storm - Villains use a power outage as an opening to break into ua.

18. One Day Those Consequences Will Finally Catch Up - Even though the teachers don’t take her concerns seriously, Inko saves every piece of evidence regarding people hurting her son.

19. a garden in their eyes - Izuku meets a fan who got injured after trying to step into a villain fight, just like he did, and it makes him question some things.

20. what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

21. Promised Misery - All Might finds out the severity of Bakugou’s bullying, and warns him he’s on thin ice with him.

22. Fly Up Higher, Blossom Brighter - Izuku has to write a paper for middle school about being positive, intercut with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

23. Libre Me from Hell - One of Izuku’s new quirks is spiral related.

24. No One to Blame but Yourself - Izuku’s kindness doesn’t extend to murderers, tragic backstory or not.

25. At Its Finest - Izuku accidentally gets involved in a hero commission coverup.

26. A Rising Issue - Izuku starts developing more severe side effects of his injuries.  He’s convinced he’s under the influence of a quirk, while the adults thing he’s finally gone too far hurting himself.

27. What you are in the Dark - Izuku usually keeps most of his anger to himself until he can’t.

28. nowhere to go - Inko moves into UA after their home was destroyed.

29. Something Without - My theory about the 2 OFA vestiges that are blurred out is they don’t approve of izuku as a successor.  Izuku tries to figure out why. 

30. Walking with a Ghost - Toshinori joins the OFA dreams while he’s in a coma.  He gets to reunite with nana, and is more open to Izuku about his past and feelings.  Part of his starts to wonder if it’s worth waking up, since he will die and join the others eventually.

31. Death By Crying - Izuku is affected by a quirk that will suffocate him if he expresses any emotion.

32. Justice is Subjective - The hero commission gets to Shigaraki before AFO does.  

33. Undo / Underdog - Death loop fic.  Izuku keeps reliving the day he met all might after being killed by the sludge villain.  he has to find a way to break the loop and survive, but he gets s little weaker every time he restarts.

34. Like Wildfire - A rumor that Izuku is All Might’s bio son picks up steam, and the characters have to decide whether to deny it but risk suspicion or play along and add a new layer to the lies protecting one for all.

35. Once Upon A December - All Might and Inko actually met in the past trope.

36. Some Legends Are Told - All Might’s first interview post-retirement.

37. Will The Real Mentor Please Stand Up - Aizawa considers himself the better teacher, but a lot of the kids seem to like All Might more.

38. I don't want the cure, I want the POISON! - Inko is killed in a hit and run, and Izuku becomes desperate to find the killer.

39. I will kill my heart before I dance on stage for these bigots - Izuku is interviewed as a rising star of UA, and the interviewer brings in some of his old bullies because they claimed to be his friends from middle school.  Izuku does not play along.

40. Split Ends - A quirk gives Izuku brief visions of what would have happened if he made different decisions.

41. Dreamless Sleep - A One for All dream leaves Izuku with a cryptic half-warning, and he desperately experiments to try and figure out how to trigger the visions to get the rest of it.

42. toxic flowers and pretty blades - Young Inko escapes the constricting life of her cruel wealthy family by becoming a vigilante.

43. The Suns we Orbit - Some of the other teachers believe Izuku is too codependent on Toshinori, and separate them for a time.

44. Submerged - Similar to those buried alive fics only someone’s in a box at the bottom of the ocean.

45. Deprive - Izuku also loses his stomach to an injury, and struggles to adjust to the necessary lifestyle changes.

46. The ashes fall like snow - Post Kamino cleanup.

47. Home will always be here - Inko cares for Izuku after he’s sent home due to “trouble at work study” but he refuses to clarify what that means.

48. Playing Favorites - A look at several times where Izuku was punished, while Bakugou got off scot free.

49. Elusive Dreams - Some kind of training or issue forces the kids to stay away for several consecutive day, and they start losing it.

50. Fracture - Izuku struggles through physical therapy after a severe injury that leaves his hero career in question.

51. Starlight, Starbright - Space cadet au

52. Someone in Your Corner - Gran Torino looking after Nana, Toshi, and finally Izuku through the years.

53. I cast magic missile into the darkness - Generic “the gang plays d&d” fic.

54. One Month At A Time - Izuku breaks a limb, and has to let in heal naturally over the course of several months.

55. Head Above Water - Izuku runs out of his pain meds and can’t get access to more doses for a while, so he has to endure not only the pain, but the withdrawal symptoms.

56. Are you going to leave a path to trace - All Might uses a new strategy to try and get Izuku to be less self sacrificial: what about all the young kids who are going to look up to him?

57. The View from Halfway Down - Izuku realizes that a risky move has just landed him with a potentially life threatening injury, but the fight it still going.

58. The Dust Bites Back - A villain All Might defeated early in his career is back and out for revenge.

59. The Absence of your Worth - Nighteye thinks he’s put together a rock solid case for why izuku isn’t worthy of One for All.  All Might’s response is to ask if he has something against quirkless people.

60. Behind the Screens Nobody is Afraid - All Might explains some of the context of his most popular hero videos to Izuku.  They are much more tragic than the media has spun them in hindsight.

61. Under the Light of the Moon - Someone gets turned into a werewolf.  And I ain’t talking the wattpad piss shit.  I’m talking full-on back-breaking monstrous transformations into a bloodthirsty abomination set to Bad Moon Rising.

62. some dreams were made to be broken - Bakugou crosses a line and finally gets expelled.

63. You Say You're Into Closure - Izuku finally beats Bakugou in a one on one fight fair and square, but Bakugou is a sore loser.

64. Something or Someone Missing - AU’s memories of Izuku get wiped, but those closest to him can’t help but feel an absence.

65. Too Little Too Late - Izuku’s father returns to find he’s been replaced.

66. Collecting Dust - Inko goes through the stuff Izuku didn’t take to the dorms.

67. Where the souls of wanderers go - Toshi meets up with a retired hero support group.

68. Fragility of Trust - Suspected traitor au

69. no one answered - Izuku is trapped in a cell in a building that’s collapsing in slow motion due to a quirk.

70. Eye of the Storm - One of the other kids has a panic attack for the first time between public appearances.  izuku has never seen from from the outside.

71. To Whom It May Concern - The kids find a mysterious collection of letters from previous students hidden in the ceiling of the classroom.  Some are ominous, some are incomprehensible.  Aizawa has no answers.  They enthusiastically go to try and solve the mystery within, but that excitement quickly diminishes the more they find out.

72. Of Popsicles and Ponytails - All Might gets in a discussion with the other teachers about whether the Clark Kent glasses thing would actually work.  All Might bets them it does, so he goes around town with no disguise other than his hair being up, and no one bats an eye.

73. All Men are Not Born Equal - Word gets out to the public that izuku used to be quirkless.  Everyone finds out just how deep anti-quirkless sentiments run when some begin to question whether a quirkless kid should be at ua, regardless of whether or not he has a quirk now.

74. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies - Something about encountering death in person for the first time being the dividing line between child and adult.

75. Sins of the Father - All for One has had many children over the centuries, and has made numerous attempts to groom them into the ideal heir with several different methods.  None of them worked though.

76. Where The Dead Come To Rest - The kids come home after a long, grueling mission where they saw some shit, and are too tired to process what they went through.  They take off their gear for plain clothes, then sit in the common room in silence long into the night, not wanting to open themselves up but also not wanting to be alone.

77. Rivalry - Nighteye tries to pit Izuku and Mirio against one another.  It goes right over Mirio’s head, but Izuku becomes convinced the other boy is in on Nighteye’s plan to wear him down until he gives up One for All.

78. A Subtle Language - All Might and Nana never said out loud that they loved each other, but little things told them that they did.  All Might hopes to pass a similar love down to his own successor.  But Izuku is very different than himself as a kid, and he needs to learn a new subtle language of affection.

79. It’s Gone - One for All stops working one day.

80. A Sight For Sore Eyes - All Might looking after Izuku in the aftermath of the second movie.

81. Loose Lips (sink ships) - Bakugou blurts out something about One for All during a rage, so the rest of the class jump on him and Izuku for answers.

82. No Expectations - Word gets out that All Might is going to choose a successor.  None of the theories or speculation online resemble Izuku in the slightest.

83. Eden was Only a Garden - Izuku gets hit with a quirk that erases some of his most traumatic memories, but in doing so loses part of who he is.

84. Run it Down - With all Izuku’s new quirks and his incredible skill, some of the other students with similar powers (Iida, Sero, Uraraka) start to feel like izuku is upstaging them.  And it affects their friendship.

85. Fool's Gold - Bakugou grows even more jealous of Izuku having One for All, and his relationship with All Might.  He thinks that if he could just prove himself to be more worthy, All Might would change his mind and name him his successor.  But in reality, he ends up jeopardizing the relationship they already have.

86. somewhere down the road - The final deadline for Nighteye’s predictions passes, and All Might lives.  He debates telling Izuku, as even though it would be a weight off the boy’s mind, he doesn’t want to jinx it.  He will still die eventually after all.

87. Just For You - All Might has certain rules and boundaries for fan interactions that he completely ignores for Izuku.

88. if these walls could talk (their whispers would be maddening) - Montage of training accidents in a ‘cursed’ ua gym

89. If Only I Could... - Nighteye tells Mirio about One for All, including that he thinks he’s more deserving than Izuku and he plans to pressure him into giving it up.  Mirio struggles with the knowledge that his mentor, someone he respected more than anything, only saw him as a replacement for All Might, meanwhile watching Izuku strain under the pressure of that mentor’s impossible expectations.

90. This is a Test Designed to Provoke an Emotional Response - shameless Blade Runner AU

91. Once and for All - Retelling of the Superman story “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” with All Might.  Some new heroes use much more aggressive and violent tactics against villains while also upstaging All Might.  That, and there general approval from the public cause All Might to question his moral code.

92. Sitting In The Rain - Tsuyu likes to just sit out in the rain sometimes.  Not do anything, just sit there.  Some friends decide to join her.

93. At Sundown - Mysterious creatures start attacking ua every night.  The gang works tirelessly during the day to find the cause and a solution, while defending their school and each other at night.

94. The 1000th time's the charm - Uraraka has been practicing a new move in secret but they just can’t get it right.  She wants it to be perfect before showing it off.  But one attempt gets her seriously hurt while training alone at night in one of the gyms, and she’s too hurt to get up to the phone to call for help.

95. Sunflower Seeds - All Might attempts to start a garden as a new hobby.

96. What It Means To Be Human - Sun god Toshi starts living among people.

97. Eyes on Me - All Might teaches Izuku some unarmed fighting moves to defend himself from bullies.

98. one remains - Izuku has developed all but one of the quirks he’s slated to, and he has no idea what it will be.  Anxiety ensues.

99. Come Back Home - Izuku vanishes from campus and everyone assumes he was kidnapped, but in reality he ran away to try and clear his head after a depressive spiral.  He goes by train as far away as he can until he comes to his senses and calls the others.

100. I Won - Izuku accidentally managed to kill Shigaraki during a skirmish, and while everyone around him praises his heroics, he struggles to deal with the fact that he killed someone.

101. Ivory Tower - All Might grapples with how much izuku suffered as a quirkless person, how he could have done more for quirkless rights in his time as a hero, and how now people may not care as much because he’s retired.

Reminder to credit me if you use any of these prompts, and a special thanks to everyone who submitted titles!

#mha #bnha #mha prompts #bnha prompts #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dad might #all might #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku #deku #bakugou katsuki #aconstantstateoffanfiction

[oriigami]

we slept on the ocean last night

(My gift for @cozza for the @setsailexchange! Strawhat feel-good fluff, feat. nightmares, love, and platonic intimacy. Also on ao3 here!)

It starts like this: Luffy can’t sleep alone. 

Zoro discovers this about six hours after they set out to sea from Shells Town, just the two of them in Luffy’s little dinghy and no destination to speak of. The sun has sunk past the horizon, and the water all around their tiny boat is pitch black, scattered with the shimmering reflections of stars. 

Luffy yawns, stretching his jaw open wider than a human’s should rightly be able to go (and maybe the rubber thing still freaks Zoro out just a little bit, okay, he’s working on it) and then, without a word of warning, crawls over to where Zoro’s sitting and drops bonelessly into his lap, sprawling against his chest with his head pillowed over Zoro’s heart. 

Zoro goes tense immediately, only barely resisting the instinct to shove him away immediately; in a boat this size, that would definitely send Luffy over the edge, and his new dumbshit captain can’t swim. “What. Are you doing.” 

Luffy yawns again, and snuggles closer. “Mm. Sleepin’.”

“Okay,” Zoro says, with what he decides is a truly admirable degree of forced calm. “Why on me.” 

“Comfy,” Luffy mumbles into his shirt. “‘nd warm.”

“Well, get off,” Zoro says, and then, when there’s absolutely no response, “Luffy? Hey-” 

He looks down at Luffy’s face, already slack with sleep and dead to the world, and the rest of the sentence dissolves into a sigh. “...Nevermind.” 

Because- see, Zoro’s not a touchy kind of person. It’s probably been more than a year since he was last hugged, and even that was just because Johnny tended to get kind of over-affectionate when he was drunk. Sometimes he shakes hands when handing over a captured pirate for the bounty, and that’s about it. And that’s fine. 

Luffy’s whole weight is on top of him, warm and heavy and snoring softly against his chest, and Zoro’s pretty sure he can’t even remember the last time he was in this much contact with another person for this long. Luffy’s hair is unwashed and salt-encrusted, and it tickles his chin.

But. Well. It’s not bad. It’s definitely weird, and something about it makes Zoro feel oddly warm, but it’s not bad. So he just sighs again, and leans back to look up at the stars, and absently reaches up to rest an arm around Luffy’s shoulders. 

He falls asleep a lot faster than usual, that night.

-

It goes like this: Nami has nightmares. 

She’s good at hiding them. Her sobs are nearly silent, muffled into her pillow and rendered all but inaudible by the doors between her room and the boys’. But Usopp is nothing if not observant- and besides, he doesn’t sleep all that well either. When he closes his eyes he’ll see his mother’s face, too still and too pale with a cloth draped over her kind, sightless eyes. More recently, there have been fresher terrors filling up the inside of his head when he tries to sleep; chief among them Kaya, carved to pieces by Kuro’s claws. 

The point is this- when Nami slips out of her room in the middle of the night, her breaths uneven and stuttery from crying, and pads almost soundlessly up to the deck on unsteady feet, Usopp is already awake. He lies still for a minute or two, worrying his lower lip and deliberating on whether to follow her. It’s obvious she’s trying to keep to herself. If it’s something secret, he doesn’t want to bother her. It’s not like he knows that much about her, or about any of them, really.

But at the same time- they’re crew now, right? Even if they’re only been sailing together for a few days. And crew look after each other. Usopp might not have much experience with being a pirate yet, but he has spent years crying into his pillow, so that makes him qualified to deal with this, maybe. He cautiously maneuvers his way out from under Luffy’s arm and tiptoes to the door, careful not to wake his other two crewmates up. 

He finds her at the bow, sitting with her back against the railing and her head resting on her knees, shoulders shaking. She startles a little when he steps up onto the deck, jerking her head up and glaring over at him, but her shoulders slump again after a moment. 

After another moment of indecision, he sits down next to her. He’s never been good at staying quiet- his mouth has a tendency to open up on its own whenever he’s nervous- but he manages it this time, and just sits there with his arm pressed against hers as she cries.

Once she’s worked herself down to what seems like relative calm again, he offers, “Do you, um. Wanna… talk about it?” 

“No,” she says immediately, and then, quieter, “I… no. It’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

It’s one of the most blatant lies he’s ever heard, and he’s been responsible for some real whoppers, but he’d be a hypocrite to point it out. Instead, he says, “Okay, um… do you wanna hear about the time a giant eagle carried me away to its nest, and I had to climb all the way down a tree that was so tall it touched the clouds?” 

Nami chokes on a laugh, and it’s an ugly, wet sound, half a sob, but she leans her head against his shoulder, all the remaining tension running out of her body. “Y’know what? Sure. Tell me.” 

Usopp’s just reached the part of the story where he finds a whole village of people living in the tree’s roots when he realizes she’s fallen asleep, and he trails off. The ends of her short orange hair poke at his skin, and her cheek is pillowed against his shoulder. 

He guesses he’s not moving for the rest of the night, so he carefully wraps an arm around her narrow shoulders and lets his head tip against hers, and closes his eyes. 

For once, he doesn’t have any nightmares.

-

It goes like this: Sanji doesn’t sleep.

“Oi, dumbass,” Zoro says, leaning against the kitchen doorframe and folding his arms across his chest. “Why are you still awake?” 

It’s well into the dead silent hours of night, and even varying as bedtime tends to be on the Going Merry, everyone else is already long since asleep, aside from Usopp, on the lookout in the crow’s nest. It had been a long and tiring day, and most of them had hit the sack immediately after dinner- except for Sanji, who’s still mindlessly moving around the kitchen, like he’s killing time until daybreak. 

It’s a measure of how exhausted Sanji must be that he barely even bristles at the insult, only blinks a little and glances over at Zoro. Even with his stupid bangs hiding his face, the sleeplessness is still plain to see in his visible eye. “Hm?” He blinks again, then says, “Oh. It’s you.” 

“Why are you still awake?” Zoro asks again, because he still hasn’t got an answer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sanji says, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth, either. “So I came up here to…” he trails off, makes a vague gesture at the pot bubbling on the stove. “It’s fine. I’m not even tired. I’m used to waking up early, for the breakfast crowd, so.”

There’s a lot of retorts hovering on Zoro’s tongue, but he bites them all back and just says, “Fuck that,” and reaches out and grabs Sanji by the wrist and drags him out of the kitchen without a backwards glance.  

“Jackass, what are you- let go of me- what the fuck, I said I’m fine- at least let me turn off the stove-” (Zoro does grant that one. Wouldn’t do for the kitchen to burn down.)

He’s probably lucky Sanji is so out of it, he muses as he hauls the cook belowdecks to the sleeping quarters- if not, he probably would have taken at least one bone-shattering kick to the skull by now. But then again, if Sanji wasn’t dead on his feet (and wasn’t a fucking idiot), Zoro wouldn’t be having to do this in the first place. They’ve just entered the most dangerous sea in the world. They need to get their sleep when they can get it so they’ll be ready for trouble when it comes.  

As usual, the shared bedroom is piled with pillows and slightly ragged blankets, transforming it into a comfortable little nest. Luffy is sleeping half-propped up against one of the walls, Nami napping with her head on his lap, and Sanji’s cursing goes quiet so as to not wake her up as soon as Zoro tows him inside, which Zoro is grateful for. It was starting to get kind of repetitive. 

He drops Sanji down directly next to Luffy, half on top of him, and nods to himself when a rubber arm almost immediately tightens around the cook’s chest, gently but firmly trapping him in place, and the captain snuggles up against Sanji’s side in his sleep. 

Sanji glares up at him and hisses, “I hate you,” or tries to, but he interrupts himself in the middle of the sentence with a yawn, which diminishes the impact considerably. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro rolls his eyes and then drops down on Sanji’s other side, letting his head flop onto Sanji’s shoulder and letting his eyes slide shut. “Just go to sleep.”

-

It goes like this: Robin doesn’t touch people. 

It takes a couple days for Chopper to notice, because she does tickle his sides and ruffle his ears, but… she only ever does that with the false hands she creates with her devil fruit, the ones that dissolve into cherry blossoms that tickle his nose. She keeps her real hands close, only touches out of necessity, never when she doesn’t need to, and even then it’s always fleeting. 

And she sleeps apart from everyone else, too. 

Theoretically, Chopper knows, there’s a boys’ room and a girls’ room. In practice, though, there’s really one room for everybody, and another room where Robin sleeps and Nami changes and keeps her things. 

(He asks Zoro, one of the first nights, why Nami often doesn’t sleep in the girls’ room, why the crew instead sleeps all piled up and tangled together when he hasn’t ever heard of humans doing that before. Zoro just shrugs in response. “It’s a comfort,” he says simply. “Won’t air out secrets that aren’t mine, but people don’t become pirates just for fun. Most of us have trouble sleeping.”)

Chopper finds Zoro is right. He likes sleeping together with the others. It’s just easier, when he’s got Luffy’s fingers tangled in his fur and Usopp’s head pillowed on his side, to stop the Doctor’s last words from echoing in his head. 

(Luffy also declares him the second-best pillow on the crew, after only Zoro, which absolutely doesn’t make him happy at all.)

It happens just after Skypiea, when they’re all still just beginning to recover, sheltered in the sky while they heal from the battle against the mad god. Robin easily concedes when Chopper asks her to come to the sickbay so he can check for lasting damage from the lightning bolt, and lies down on the cot to let him check her ears, her eyes, her heartbeat. 

He’s finished his checkup (no apparent lasting problems, miraculously) and is noting down her baselines in his notebook for future reference when he glances up and realizes she’s slipped into slumber, her eyes closed and her breaths slow. It’s not a surprise; they’re all exhausted. 

But… maybe it’s because Chopper still doesn’t have that much real experience with humans, but he can’t help but think the way Robin is sleeping doesn’t look all that restful. She’s kind of curled up, her arms folded up against her chest, fingers digging into her forearms tight enough to bruise. 

Zoro’s voice rings in his ears. It’s a comfort. People don’t become pirates just for fun.

He slips down from his stool and shifts into his full reindeer form, and carefully climbs up onto the narrow cot beside her, folding his legs up underneath him and letting his side press against her back. He can feel the miniscule trembles running through her body, tight with tension. 

He rests his head on the pillow next to hers and closes his eyes, and slowly, slowly, she stills, relaxing into his side, her tremors calming little by little. 

He thinks he hears her murmur something that might be, “Thank you, Doctor-san,” just before he drifts off to sleep, too. 

-

It goes like this: It’s a comfort.

They’re all hurting after Enies Lobby, all aching and grieving and above all tired, a bone-deep weariness borne of running and fighting and crying and nearly dying over and over again. They can barely stay on their feet for the boat ride back to Water Seven. Robin can’t seem to stop smiling, even through the painful abrasions around her wrists and the tear tracks drying on her cheeks and the ache that digs down to her bones. 

Iceberg gives them a whole suite of rooms to use in Galley-La’s temporary headquarters, all comfortable, all with their own big soft beds to sleep in. He means well, she’s certain, but he just doesn’t know how the Strawhat Pirates do things. But, then, there’s nobody else who does things quite like them.

Iceberg is barely out the door before Robin is folding her arms across her chest, ferrying mattresses and bedding and pillows and comforters into the main lounge, gathering them into a piled-up nest of comfort. The shared bedroom on the Going Merry had been outfitted much the same, she remembers, and the warmth of familiarity is the least she can offer them after all they’ve given her. 

(Later, Franky will see this, and make a bed big enough to hold all of them, soft and comfortable and warm; but for now, they’re all safe and all alive, and so pillows on the floor are plenty.)

They don’t lie down so much as they all fall together at once in a tangle of limbs and pillows, now that the adrenaline has long since faded away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Robin finds herself with her head on Nami’s chest and one of Luffy’s arms slung across her shoulders, and Chopper cuddled against her stomach. 

It shouldn’t be as easy as it is to melt into the embrace, to let go of the constant vigilant caution that’s kept her alive for so long, but she trusts these people, like she’s never trusted anyone in her life. She was ready to die for them, and they responded by telling her to live for them instead, and remembering that fills her heart with such soft fondness it nearly hurts. 

But they’re not quite all together. Not yet.

She shifts to cross her arms again, careful not to disturb any of the crewmates already fast asleep around and on top of her, and lets an arm blossom from a doorframe in the hall outside to catch Usopp by the collar before he can slip away. She hears his yelp of surprise from just outside the door, quickly muffled, and smiles to herself. 

A moment later, he peers inside, hiding behind the mostly-closed door. She meets his eyes and smiles with all the gratitude she can’t begin to put into words, and nods towards an unused mattress and pillow at her side. He hesitates for a moment, clearly uncertain, caught between anxiety and hope, so she takes his hand in a succession of hers and tugs him over. He stumbles, but doesn’t resist, and she can see the exhaustion in him when he practically topples over onto the mattress. 

Within minutes, he’s asleep too, face buried in the pillow, snoring softly, one warm hand still clasped in Robin’s. She knows he still has things to work out with Luffy, with the rest of the crew, and there’ll be time for that later. Right now, though, they’re alive, and she’s free, and it’s time to rest. 

She falls asleep smiling for the first time in years. 

-

It goes like this: Luffy can’t sleep alone. 

So Rusukaina is… it’s hard. He’s not alone, Rayleigh’s there, and sometimes Hancock and the others visit and let him hug them as long as he wants, and that’s nice, but it’s not the same, not really. He misses his crew, misses Zoro’s solid warmth and the fluffy cushion of Usopp’s hair and the fleecy softness of Chopper’s fur and Robin’s low, rhythmic breathing. 

(He’s never slept better than when he was seven, piled together with Ace and Sabo and some ratty stolen blankets on the rough-hewn floor of their treehouse, with the crickets singing outside and the stars shining bright through the window.)

(But now there’s no Ace and Sabo, not ever again, and no crew to keep him warm and chase away the nightmares in their absence, and so he doesn’t sleep well.) 

He fights through it, because that’s what he always does, what he’s always done- press through. He has to get stronger for the people he has left. 

Going back to the Sunny is nothing less than going home. 

When night comes, they’re deep underwater, en route to Fishman Island, the sunlit waters of the surface long since gone. Past the railings of the Sunny, the world is nearly pitch black, lit only by the occasional bioluminescent creature wriggling past.

Luffy couldn’t care less, because right here and right now, the Sunny is the world, and nothing past their bubble of light and warmth and safety matters at all. He grins, and throws his arms out to drag his whole crew together into a messy pile in the middle of the deck- Sanji swears and Chopper shrieks and so does Nami, but not one of them tries to dodge- before flopping into the midst of the chaos himself. 

He winds up sprawled half on Brook and half on Sanji, who complains but doesn’t kick him off, his head on Robin’s thigh and his arms tangled through all of them, holding on tight to every member of his crew, the most important treasures in the world, the touch promising him they’re there, really there. 

He’s not letting go of any of them, not again, not ever. 

He’s reaching the crown with all of them or not at all. 

Someone runs a hand through his hair, and it feels nice. Someone says, “Get some sleep, captain. We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He knows they will be.

#opfic #my writing #one piece #opfanfic #luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #nami #usopp #nico robin #chopper #strawhat pirates

[charming-charlie]

Like Father, Unlike Son

Title // Like Father, Unlike Son

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of absentee parents. Mentions of sex. Maybe some other little triggers, especially toward our man ☹

Summary // Buck’s parents are in town. Are you sure you want to meet them?

Word Count // 2.7k

Prompt // Hey! Hope you're doing good! I don't know if you ccurrently do requests or not or if this is where to ask for them but I have one in case you do take them. Evan Buckley x reader where his parents come to town and they are really passive agressive towards him, complaining about his work and that he's "not as nice of a boy as he used to be" but he doesn't tell them to stop. Eventually they remark on his birthmark, hitting an old insecurity and reader comforts him? Thank you for your time! <33

Author’s Note // Okay listen writing this broke my heart. Someone fix it by sending me cute little Buck gifs <3

“What are you doing?” you asked your boyfriend, firefighter Evan Buckley, as he pranced around his loft apartment. Armed with a duster in one hand and a broom in the other, you would’ve made a bet with Maddie that he was dressing as Cinderella for Halloween. It was a weird sight to see because he was cleaning. The man was actually cleaning and you could not get over it.

You took your phone out and secretly snapped a few photos of Buck. He was dusting the top of the fridge and it just occurred to you… is that an area people are supposed to clean?

This was getting more and more strange.

You sent the photo to Maddie, who instantly replied, ‘all he is missing is an apron!’ with a few laughing-crying emojis. You smiled at her response, letting your brain picture the sight of Buck prancing around in an apron, holding various cleaning tools, like some 1950s housewife. You would’ve hung onto that ridiculous thought if Buck didn’t decide to speak up just then.

“I told you. My parents are coming. This place needs to be spotless,” Buck started dusting the undersides of the kitchen cabinets and you continued watching him. Your face was scrunched up as you followed his hand movements. Did Buck ever clean like this before?

For as long as you’ve known him, he never really mentioned his parents and that was not something you wanted to ask about unless he brought it up. Maddie mentioned a few things to you, in order to prepare you for the day, but it wasn’t much. Both Buckley parents were absent in their children’s’ lives, forcing Maddie and Buck to rely on each other while growing up. This would be the first time you’ve met them, and the first time Buck has seen them in who knows how long. This was a big deal. You thought you should be the one who is nervous. This would be the first time meeting the boyfriend’s parents and you needed to make a good impression. But Buck… he was acting like the world was going to end if the spout of the kitchen sink wasn’t properly polished. He was nervous enough for the both of you. Your job, which you were trying to settle into without overthinking, was to be calm and level-headed enough for the both of you.

That still didn’t stop the butterflies from moving full speed in your stomach.

When Buck started to pull out all the Tupperware containers and begin rearranging them in a new, organized, and super unnecessary way, you decided to intervene. Standing up, you made your way to your boyfriend and you slipped your arms around him, essentially hugging him from behind. Your head rested between his shoulder blades as you just held him in a comforting way.

Buck froze for a second and you could feel how tense and stiff he was. However, he instantly relaxed in your arms, like a weight had been lifted and you could sense a grin that splashed onto his face. He turned around in your arms, facing you while you hugged him at the waist.

He was taller than you by a good foot. Even if you stood on your tippy toes, you would not reach his lips, and damn did you want to right now. It was a good thing he knew you well enough to read your mind because he was thinking the same thing. He leaned down, much to your happiness, and placed the sweetest, softest kiss upon your lips. It was perfect, the way he dangled himself in front of you, leaving you wanting more and knowing you couldn’t reach him. He teased you in a way that made you both frustrated and excited.

“I know I’m acting crazy. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you,” Buck said as he captured your lips with his one more time.

The second kiss caught you by surprised, but you welcomed it. You leaned into him and your fingers instantly tightened and gripped his white shirt. You tried to let go, knowing his pressed white shirt and black blazer were for show and he wanted to make a good impression on his parents, but if you didn’t hold onto him, you were going to melt into a puddle of goo.

Imagine Buck trying to clean that up.

You grinned into the kiss as the new image that popped into your head, but it was short-lived. There was a knock on the door, five concise raps in a row. Buck instantly pulled away, and you caught a small, tiny look of fear in his eyes. He masked it by putting on a brave face but you knew him better than that.

“Go get the door, I’ll clean this up,” you told him with a gentle smile. You firmly nudged him toward the door and Buck reluctantly went to open it. You hurriedly put all the Tupperware containers back in their original cabinet, with organization going out the window. The door opened just as you shut the cabinet door, and you turned around on your heels and leaned against the counter, trying to act calm and casual.

You could hear the greetings and see the hugs before you saw the people. Buck’s parents appeared into view, smiling at their son, who you would’ve guessed they haven’t seen in such a long, long time.

First, you saw a woman. Her hair was tightly pulled back into an updo and she dressed in a business suit, paralleling her son in a semi-formal way. Following her was an older gentleman, dressed nearly identical as Buck. Apparently, looking proper was part of the Buckley charm. You must have missed that memo, since you were wearing jeans and a nice shirt, more casual than the Buckley family.

“You must be the one my son is so smitten with,” the woman replied with a smile. She made her way across the living area and into the kitchen, pulling you into a weird and awkward one-armed hug.

“I didn’t know firefighters could afford places like this,” the older gentleman said as he looked around.

You looked at Buck, who’s smile seemed to twitch with slight offensiveness. You knew he was proud of his job and you remember telling him that he loved his job more than you. Naturally, Buck denied that but played along and said his job kept him satisfied in ways that you couldn’t. You took it as a challenge and the two of you had mind-blowingly incredible sex that night. However, you were now cursing at your brain to abandon this train of thought at the station. You didn’t need to think about your sexual life with Buck while his parents were right there.

“I’m doing well for myself,” Buck said with a proud smile.

You nodded in agreement. Buck was doing good. He had a semi-stable job, he was healthy (especially after those blood clots in his leg that gave everybody a scare), and he was happy. Life was pretty good for him, and you could see how he was taking things all in stride.

“I thought you would have made something of yourself by now, Evan.” His mother spoke up. She was standing right next to you and it took every ounce of your strength to pull yourself together and not flash her a ‘what the hell did you just say????’ look. Instead, you kept your eyes on Buck, showing an obvious emotion of confusion.

Buck was certainly caught off guard by his mother’s words and seemed to be rendered speechless when his father chimed in with agreements.

“Firefighting is not a career, you know. I thought we raised you better than that,” his father said so casually, like he was making normal conversation and not offending his son by his choice of employment.

You felt a sense of dread swirling inside. You were longing to meet Buck’s parents and now you could not wait for them to leave.

“He does a very good job as a first responder. He saved countless people. Maddie also helps. It’s pretty great seeing the two Buck siblings take on the world together,” you said, trying not to cringe at how pathetic you sounded. Buck wasn’t speaking up, which meant that you had to take the reins and defend him. He deserves to be treated better than that.

“And to go so long without a phone call, or a letter, or even an email!” Buck’s dad was rambling as he walked around the apartment, staring at how immaculate Buck tried to make it, “would it have killed you to let us know what you’ve been up to? Seems like you just dropped off the face of the earth!”

If that wasn’t disgusting enough, the laugh that Buck’s dad gave shortly after sent your blood boiling. Was he finding this funny, calling his son out like this?

“You used to be such a nice boy,” Buck’s mother said as she approached her son, “but now it just feels like you and your sister enjoy ignoring us.”

How Buck was still standing was impressive to you. If it were you, some deep-rooted anger would have shot out right now and slapped his parents across the face. Buck told you bits and pieces about his parents. They were never there growing up. Their careers were more important than their children, leaving Buck and Maddie to sort of raise each other and look out for one another. It was not an ideal situation, and it broke your heart when Buck told you. He was visibly upset when it came to sharing details about his parents and you didn’t ask further questions.

But when Buck received a phone call from his mom, saying that both mom and dad will be in Los Angeles for a conference, you saw how excited he was. Hell, he was waltzing around the apartment, cleaning and tidying things up all week, after his mom mentioned that she would stop by for a visit with his dad. What was it all for? To be continuously kicked while he was already down?

“And this thing,” Buck’s mother said as her face scrunched in disgust, “you should get this removed. You would look much more handsome.” Her hand brushed against the birthmark on Buck’s face, and Buck instantly pulled back at the touch.

If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed the part where Buck’s father actually nodded in agreement without having said anything. Your hands were shaking, and you stuffed them into the back pockets of your jeans, trying to keep your nerves in check. These people were Buck’s parents? This is how parents act toward their children?

Buck’s jaw clenched as he inhaled deeply, sending the worst disguised smile in his mother’s direction. “I wonder what’s keeping the food. I’m gonna check, be right back.”

He left the apartment, and you immediately felt like you were swimming in awkwardness. With Buck gone, they might pick on you next, and you were not going to let that happen. Racking your brain for an excuse, you settled with a simple one.

“Shoot, he forgot to grab the money to pay for lunch. I’ll be right back,” you flashed a friendly yet passive-aggressive smile in their direction and took off after your man, who was outside in the fresh air and taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, like he needed to practice meditation in order to calm down.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing him by the arm gingerly. He pulled back quickly, and his eyes popped open, but once he saw it was just you, he relaxed. “Sorry.”

He shook his head at your little apology. “Don’t be. Are you glad to have met them now?”

There was anger laced in his voice and, while you knew it wasn’t directed at you, it still stung a bit to be talked to like that. He could see it on your face and his features melted into pure apology as he reached for your hand. You let him take it, and he slowly tangled his fingers through your own. You let silence wash over the two of you, because that was what was needed right now. Sitting through lunch with those two people was going to be hell, and you wanted no part of it, but you needed to be there for him.

“You know,” you said, leaning into him a little. You couldn’t help it; he was like a magnet that always pulled you in. “You don’t need them. You have a loving, supportive family at the firehouse. Bobby and Athena can be your new parents. They already act the part.”

Buck let out a soft, sweet laugh. The fact that he found your little quip to be entertaining was music to your ears. “You don’t regret dating me, do you?”

You stared at him, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. The look on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was really asking. Apparently, his parents verbally beating him up made him question a lot of things. You frowned, thinking at how just a fifteen-minute conversation with Buck’s mom and dad could change almost everything about him, you, and your relationship.

“Of course not,” you responded evenly, without even having to think about it, “I love you for you. You can sometimes be dumb, you know this, but you have a true heart of gold. And honestly, Buck, you are hot as hell.”

He laughed again, this time deeper and genuine. He let go of your hand and pulled you into a sweet hug, holding you tightly against his chiseled physique. “I needed that, thank you.”

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his handsome face. “I mean it. You are perfect. Your parents haven’t seen you in years, they haven’t seen how much you’ve changed. I see you every day. I’ve seen the progression. I’ve seen the pain you went through to be who you are today, and I love you so much for it. Let’s just get through this lunch and send your parents on their way, and you never have to think about them again.”

It wasn’t the greatest speech, but it comforted him. His smile never wavered as he looked at you, soaking in the words as they left your mouth. He nodded in response, feeling a newfound sense of bravery seeping inside. “I’ll do it if you are by my side.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” you said, knowing exactly how cheesy that sounded. But you didn’t care.

Buck leaned in, claiming your lips against his own in a welcomed surprise. You went back to leaning on him, his arms snaking themselves around you as he kissed you. Your heart was beating erratically as adrenaline pumped through. Your head was slowly filling up with fog and you were losing all sense of direction. If he wasn’t holding you like he was now, you would have no way of knowing which direction was up. Everything was blurry and out of focus, and it was a state of euphoria that you loved being in.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the Buckley residence? I have eighty dollars’ worth of Chinese food here,” someone’s voice squeaked into your thoughts, taking root much to your annoyance.

You pulled away from Buck’s lips, looking surprised. “Eighty dollars’ worth of food?” you couldn’t help but ask in shock.

“Okay listen, I was planning ahead,” Buck retorted with a smile. He shrugged like he did nothing wrong, like he was not guilty of spending so much money on a Chinese feast.

“Planning for what?’

“You and I aren’t going to leave the apartment for a couple days. The food is to help us replenish our strength.” He winked at you. Since when did he start winking at you?

“Are we working out or something?”

“Yeah, in bed.”

You slapped his arm with a gasp as he laughed and went to the deliver driver to collect the food. God, he was so good to you, and you had to smile at how happy he made you. The two of you could do this. You could both get through one afternoon with the Buckley’s because afterwards, it would be just the two of you again. No worries, no stress, no fear. You wanted that more than anything.

Despite a rocky start, you had a newer outlook on his parents. After all of this, there was one thing you knew for certain. Evan Buckley was not like his parents and you have never been prouder of him.

#Buck #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley x you #9-1-1 #911 #oliver stark #writing request

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet ugly asks, 08 with the ot4 if that’s ok? (the note in the locker one, in case I have the wrong number). rating up to you! :)

Here you go! I went NSFW

Joseph is not missing his chance. Not again.

If he’s keeping count, which he’s certainly not, he’s missed fifty-two chances between fifth grade and now.

Barclay’s family moved next door in the summer of 1951, causing eleven year old Joseph to learn very quickly what it’s like to have someone whose side you never want to leave. Lucky for him, Barclay felt the same way; they were in the same boyscout troop, were each others first choice for sleep overs or outings where they were allowed to take one friend. When they hit high school, Barclay went out for football because Joseph did (and Joseph did because that’s what upstanding young men do). They played together all four years, Barclays growth spurt rendering him doubly dangerous on defense and the dominant source of Joseph’s late-night fantasies. Joseph did debate club alone, but Barclay joined him for chess club. And when Barclay bought his car, his first stop was to take Joseph cruising, just the two of them.

Unluckily, Joseph’s never worked up the nerve to tell Barclay how he feels. This may be why he hasn’t had a date since the spring hop two years ago, while Barclay’s had quite a few (cheerleaders and band boys alike can’t seem to resist his physique and general gentleness).

That all changes today. Joseph slipped a note into Barclays locker right before lunch that conveyed all relevant information.

Dear you,

Drive in on Friday? We can park in the back row.

Love,

Joseph.

He’s sitting in his normal spot on the bench near the cafeteria, doing his best impersonation of someone who’s heart isn’t in his throat.

As he’s scanning the crowd, none other than Duck Newton begins weaving his way over to him, leather jacket reflecting the sun and his black hair combed back as always. Joseph was wary of him for years--as any good square is of kids from the rough side of town--until they got paired together in biology their senior year. Duck, who seems not to give a shit about school the rest of the time, is incredibly good at science. And he’s funny, nearly got them both kept after class for cracking a joke that made Joseph lose his breath laughing.

The problem is, right now he’s waving a very familiar piece of paper.

“Gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin flattered, Joe. But, uh” he leans on the table, smiling playfully, “I gotta make sure ‘Drid is okay with me playin backseat bingo with someone who ain’t him.”

“Um.” Joseph shakes his head, trying not to focus on the idea of Duck holding his head in his lap in the dark corner of the drive in, “I, I’m so sorry. I must have been nervous enough to put the note in the wrong locker. Not, not that you’re not a catch.”

Duck raises his eyebrow, “1650 or 1652?”

“1652.”

“Huh. Well, I got shop class with Barclay. You want me to just give it to him?”

“No.” Joseph holds out his hand.

Duck places the letter in it with a shrug, “Suit yourself, slick. See you later.”

Joseph rips the letter to shreds, tosses it in the trash, and hopes that’s the end of this humiliating error.

It’s not.

“Hello, Joseph.” Indrid Cold rests a shoulder on the locker next to his. There’s no one in Kepler High quite like him; his family moved from California three years ago, which most people use as the explanation for Indrid’s red glasses, crystal necklace, and pale hair that is always a quarter-inch shy of the principal writing him up for it. He’s never struck Joseph as the kind to fight, but he did mistakenly proposition his boyfriend three hours ago.

“Indrid. How can I help you?”

The taller boy hands him a folded slip of notebook paper, “By taking me up on this invitation.”

Before Joseph can ask any questions, Indrid is disappearing down the hall. The paper contains a hand drawn map to an X, under which is the word “Bash” but nothing else. Joseph has never been invited to any kind of party that needed a secret map. He mostly just gets invited to get togethers because he’s the captain of the football team. No one talks to him once he’s there. Well, except Barclay.

He stares at the map; he doesn’t have to be home until ten. He’s never going to get a chance to make the scene like this again.

Joseph shuts his locker and hurries to his car.

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

Indrid’s remarkably accurate map leads him to a dirt parking lot beneath the sign for Amnesty Point. As he follows the signs for the “beach house,” a Coaster’s song drifts through the air, underscored by splashes from the lake to his right. He’s deep in the woods on the wrong side of the tracks, but even so he’s unprepared for how everyone lounging around the weathered picnic tables on a shaded patio stops talking and stares at him.

“Who the fuck invited the square?” Someone whispers, making him wish he hadn’t left the map in the car.

“Joseph?”

He turns so fast the gravel flies. Barclay, clad in a grease-stained apron, is smiling so bright it evaporates his nervousness.

“Hi, big guy.”

His friend hoists him in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here, Indrid said he invited you but I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“He piqued my curiosity. Um, is this the new job you were so cagey about?”

“Yep. Mama--she runs this place--pays real well, but tries to keep Amnesty Point kinda secret. Cops just love busting places like this up for no reason.”

Joseph nods, still a little hurt Barclay didn’t trust him enough to share where he worked. His friend must notice the dip in his smile before he hides it, because he adds, “It’s gonna be even better working here now that you know where to find me. Listen, um, I gotta get back before Jake sets something on fire, but the burger stand closes at eight. I’ll come find you after that. Duck and Indrid are down by the dock, if you want company.”

He absolutely does, since the alternative is looking even more out of place by being the only person here alone.

When he hits the grey sand, Duck is just pulling himself back onto dry land. The half moon scars on his chest are the only reminders of the trip he took to San Francisco last summer.

“Glad you showed up, slick. Day like this, the water is the only nice place to be.”

“I wish I’d known, I would have brought my swim shorts.” Maybe if he rolls up his pant legs he can get some relief from the heat…

“Could just go in your boxers. I won’t tell.” Duck winks.

“Nothing is also allowed.” Indrid lilts, floating past on his back.

Joseph looks at him, then at the planks of the dock because Indrid is also demonstrating that second option without a care.

Duck snickers, “sugar, put somethin on, you’re scandalizin’ the poor guy.”

“Very well. But I demand help with the sunblock in payment for quashing my self-expression this way.”

“You’re soundin like your pops there, ‘Drid.”

“....ugh, you’re right.” A splash and the soft fwup of a towel, “alright, Joseph, I’m decent.” He is, but his swim shorts leave very little to the imagination. Joseph stares a moment too long, notices Duck smirking when he looks away.

The greaser holds out a bottle of sunblock and they get to work.

“Goddamn, this wouldn’t take so long if you weren’t so fuckin long everywhere.”

“You’ve never complained about that before.” Indrid grins, red sunglasses hiding his eyes. He doesn’t lift a finger to help them, but Duck seems to get a kick from it. Joseph wonders if he spoils Indrid like this in everything they do. If Indrid ever does it back.

(If either of them would do it for him).

They spend the evening talking, Duck skipping stones and Indrid sunning himself while Joseph dangles his legs in the water. When they get back to the beach house Joseph receives fewer stares, Duck and Indrid’s company substituting for cool. He and Duck get a real dinner, but Indrid opts to down three Cokes in place of a meal.

When Barclay closes up shop, he’s immediately at Joseph’s side. Joseph is about to suggest they all go for a walk when Indrid winks at Barclay and steers Duck towards the trees with a promise to see Joseph at school tomorrow.

“You get on okay while I was working?” Barclay starts them on a path towards the edge of the point.

“I did. It was actually really nice just to spend time talking with people who like me. Or at least don’t hate me enough to shove me in the water fully clothed.”

“Nah, they’re not those kind of guys. Hell, it was their idea to invite you here. I was, uh, I was too shy.”

He stops, turning to face Barclay, “what do mean?”

“Duck told me about the note.”

“Oh lord.”

“Not on purpose, he just mentioned he’d seen you and when I asked how you were doing, well, you know he can’t lie for shit. So Indrid suggested we invite you out here.”

“Out of pity?”

“No.” Barclay frowns, sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “Joseph, why didn’t you just ask me out in person?”

“I was too nervous. I thought it might ruin everything.”

“Not a chance, blue eyes.” Barclay rumbles. Then he’s kissing him, gentle and slow, whimpering when Joseph kisses back and cups his face. When they part, he’s certain there’s nothing but air under his feet.

“Can we do that again?”

“Not tonight. Your curfew is still ten.”

“Shit, you’re right, if I don’t get on the road I’ll be late.”

“Lemme walk you to your car. I gotta hang around since I’m Indrid and Duck’s ride home tonight.”

“Do you want to go get them so we can all leave together?”

Barclay chuckles, tips his head towards the woods where a faint, rhythmic grunting cane be heard.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not gonna ruin their fun.” He pulls Joseph into a much more heated kiss, then sighs, “get home safe, blue eyes.”

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

Joseph suffered through both the personal hygiene class at school and his father’s lecture on what to expect now that he was truly a man. But nothing in either of those taught him what to do if he’s so hot under the collar he can’t focus but the guy who’s causing it won’t just fuck him.

He and Barclay have gone out every Friday for the last month, steaming up the car windows with their kissing sessions. They tried to work out who was supposed to give who their varsity jacket and settled on just trading, Joseph smiling whenever he spots Barclays name on his back. And Barclay tells everyone Joseph is his boyfriend with a level of pride he never gave their state football wins.

But he won’t go all the way with him. One Sunday afternoon they were listening to records in Barclays room when the larger boy rolled across the rug to straddle Joseph. His hands were hot and a little rough on his cock, Joseph moaning into his mouth as he came in under a minute. Before he could reciprocate, the front door banged open, announcing the return of Barclay’s parents. His boyfriend told him not to worry about it and kissed him on the cheek.

He’s worried Barclay loves him but doesn’t want him. He’s worried that if he ever does, Joseph will embarrass himself, be so inexperienced and inelegant he’ll turn him off forever. He wonders if he can entice Barclay to ask him to fuck so he doesn’t have to admit the embarssing intensity of his desire.

“Duck? Do you, um, do you think I’d look better if I dressed like you?”

The greaser looks up from his notes, “Maybe? I mean, I dress like this because I dig it. You wanna try it, go wild.”

Joseph nods, intending to drop it. Instead, he slows his stride by Duck during their laps in gym.

“It’s just, I’m worried I’m too square for anyone to be really into me.”

“Joe, what the fuck is this about?”

“Newton, I heard that! That’s an extra lap.”

“Son of uh, hold on, are you worried about Barclay? Because he’s so into your goody-goody thing I’m surprised he ain’t asked you to fuck him with your report card.”

“Stern, you’re done, get off the track!”

He jogs to the bleachers, Duck’s words rattling around long after he’s hit the locker room.

“You’re really worried about this, ain’t you? You’re smart, slick, but I swear sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” Duck is behind him, still in his gym clothes while Joseph is half changed out of them. They’re both dawdling, the locker room empty save for some other stragglers near the bathroom.

“Duck, if I were in high demand, I’d be getting more, um, attention than I-”

His sentence is cut short by Duck yanking him down into a kiss, lips salty with sweat and so demanding Joseph wants to get on his knees.

Duck pulls back, pats his cheek, “Like I said; right in front of you.”

With that he waves and leaves the room the back way. Joseph can’t even be mad for cutting school; right now, he’s almost ready to follow him.

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

“I really must thank you again.” Indrid clears the low table of his math notes, “my focus is such that I struggle with math much more than I’d like. Having someone sit and walk me through it in a calm setting helps a great deal.”

“I’m always happy. Barclay can too, if you ever can’t get a hold of me.”

“Oh, I know he can. He helped me last year.” Indrid stretches his legs; they’re on the floor of his VW Westfalia. His parents let him live in it on the property behind their one-story house as long as he continues to be a cooperative member of the household.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was only a few times, though he often lingered when we were through.” Indrid’s emphasis makes Joseph blush.

“Duck and I weren’t going steady yet. And my cocksucking skills are not the stuff of legend for nothing.” Indrid smiles, dreamily.

“Oh. Um.” Joseph shifts his notebook into his lap.

Indrid sits up straighter, “I apologize. I, ah, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not sure that’s what this is.”

Indrid cocks his head, “No? Envy perhaps? After all, you’ve had years to dream about him, to hope you’d be the first, and here comes a skinny little freak from the coast to beat you to it.”

“You’re not a freak” Joseph says softly, “I, I can’t say I blame Barclay for taking you up on it.”

“He does have excellent taste” Indrid looks pointedly over his glasses at him. The heat under his skin doubles as Indrid crawls forward, “you know, Duck and I have an...understanding. But if you and Barclay do not, I can stop. I mean, I can stop regardless, if you don’t want this.” He lowers to his belly between Joseph’s legs, nuzzles his fly with a hum.

“I, I--ohlord” He moans when Indrid mouths at his slacks; he’s getting hard, if he had his way he’d lay down and let Indrid suck him off until he came on his glasses. But he knows he won’t enjoy it if he isn’t sure how Barclay feels.

“I, we should stop. Please.”

Indrid sits up, smiling, “Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner? My mother is making fish stew instead of tofu salad for once.”

“...I’d love to.”

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

“I didn’t know Amnesty owned all this.” Joseph let’s Barclay guide him through the trees.

“Yeah, Mama’s family bought it years ago and she’s hung onto it through some seriously nasty shit. Hah, there they are.” Barclay waves to Duck and Indrid, resting against each other on a massive, checkered blanket. His boyfriend sets the picnic basket down and then, confusingly, turns off the lantern Duck brought.

“Okay, baby, there’s something I’ve got to ask” Barclay looks at him, “do you think I don’t wanna make it with you?”

“Truthfully? Yes. You, you’ve barely gone beyond some heavy petting, meanwhile Indrid was offering to blow me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth; there go all three of these relationships.

Barclay shrugs, “He told me about that.”

“Honesty is important. Most of the time.” Indrid grins.

“Blue eyes, I’m crazy about you. I’ve just been going slow because I was afraid I’d stress you out. I know how you get, Joseph. You put so much pressure on yourself to do everything right, I was worried you’d try so hard to be perfect for me that you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”

Joseph stares into deep brown eyes, eyes he’s loved since he was a boy. Then he laughs softly, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “You really do know me well, you know that.”

“Oh, oh baby” Barclay holds him closer, “you really think there was a way of touching me that’d disappoint me? Fuck, just getting to kiss you makes me the happiest guy in the state.”

“That being said” Duck drawls, “aint there somethin about practice makin perfect?”

“I, are, is this really what you three want?”

“Yes” Indrid nods, “but if you don’t, well, we shall never speak of it again.”

“I do. Sweet fucking christ I do.” He kisses Barclay ferociously as the other two scoot closer.

“Hmm, I believe we should let seniority decide. Barclay, what’s your preference?”

His boyfriend pulls back, kissing his jaw, “Do you wanna blow me, blue eyes?”

“So badly.”

“That settles that. Duck, what about--ah, I see you’re already taking off your pants, so I guess you’re fucking hm. He’s fucking you? Ah, semantics.” Indrid waves his hand dismissively.

“Wait, does, do we have a rubber?”

Duck pulls one from his wallet, “never leave to see this one without one. I know how he is.”

Indrid pecks his cheek, then grins, “I believe, Joseph, that leaves me to help you with your hand jobs.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“On your back, baby.” Barclays nudges him and he falls onto the blanket. For a moment only the trees and stars look down on him; then Barclays face fills his vision as his hands open his fly and guide his cock out.

“AHshit, shit that’s good.” He bucks as his boyfriend jerks him off steadily, his cock standing at attention in a matter of seconds.

“Okay big fella, you go get your dick sucked.” Duck straddles him. He’s down to only his undershirt, his muscular thighs, soft belly, and strong arms on full displays as he rolls the condom down.

“You’re so handsome” Joseph sighs.

Duck seems to blush, “Thanks, slick. Not bad yourself.”

“I mean it, really, you’re incredible” he paws his legs, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into the kiss. Duck giggles into his mouth, then sinks down onto his cock. Joseph decides he is never, never letting go of the man above him; his weight is so comforting, his body so perfect, the way his laughs morph into moans so charming.

“G-great thing about this position” Duck gasps, “is you don’t gotta do much besides let me ride you. That’s why it’s ‘Drid’s favorite.”

“Second favorite; you on my face is my first. Speaking of which” he kneels, gently lifts Joseph’s head into his hands while Barclay sits cross-legged on the other side of his head. His cock is thick and long, so mouthwatering Joseph opens his mouth without being told.

“Fuck, baby, wanted this so long.” Barclay guides his cock between his lips when Indrid turns his head. The skinnier man keeps supporting him as his tongue registers skin, sweat, Barclay and he whines for more.

“Easy, blue eyes, fuck, you’re doing great.”

“I’ll say. Fuck, can’t believe you been keepin this dick all to yourself, Joe.”

“I got my haAAnds on it once.”

“Clearly you should have done it more” Indrid purrs, hips moving slightly, “as soon as someone plays with it, he sucks cock very nicely.”

“No fuckin kiddin. Baby, baby, yeah, suck like that.”

Indrid shifts behind him, “Barclay, hold him a moment, there’s been a change of plans.” A zipper goes as Barclay cradles him. Then Indrid’s fingers are back, turning him to face a second, narrower cock.

“Handjobs can wait.” Indrid pulls him forward, moaning high when he sucks the head, “oooh, yes, that’s it.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin combust watchin you do that.” Duck bounces more deliberately and Joseph yelps joyfully around Indrid’s cock. He’s already close to cumming, the feeling of Duck around him and Indrid inside him flooding the rest of him with pleasure.

Indrid pulls his head back, starts to turn him towards Barclays, when it punches through him. He moans, pushes up into Duck as the shorter man laughs.

“I, I came first, I’m sorry, this is one of the things-”

“Shush” Barclay helps him up as Duck climbs of him, “that was fucking incredible, and you’re not done yet.”

“On your knees, facing us. Unless, sweetheart, do you-”

Duck’s hand is already between his legs, “I’m gonna enjoy the show.”

“Mmm, which means I get to enjoy you enjoying it. Barclay, turn slightly, like this.”

“Why, oh, oh I got it, fuck, you’re a fucking genius.”

Joseph agrees, though he’s going a bit cross-eyed. So he closes them, lets first Indrid and then Barclay press their cock into his mouth. It’s a stretch, his jaw aching instantly, but it’s the best he’s ever felt. They can’t push more than the heads in, so he concentrates on sucking and licking, pre-cum collecting on his tongue and spit seeping down his chin. Duck grunts behind him, offering running commentary on Indrid’s appearance and Joseph's voice. Barclay shoves both hands into his hair while Indrid keeps one on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, baby, this is fucking aces, gonna paint your whole fucking stomach white.”

“Ahnnn, agreed” Indrid pants, “your mouth was made for this, ohyes, that’s it, mmm, this is even better, feeling your cock against mine dearest, oh, oh” Indrid cums, bitterness hitting his tongue, and when he tries to swallow he gasps and gags instead.

“Fuck” Barclay grunts and then another burst of cum fills his mouth. He gasps for air as they pull out, sending some down his chin. He wipes ineffectively at it with the back of his hand.

“Here” Duck, underwear back on, cleans his lips with a napkin.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course.” Duck kisses him as Indrid flops on his belly and Barclay curls his arms around Joseph.

“Gotta say, blue eyes, don’t think you got anything to worry about when it comes to making it good for me. Or, uh, us.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Joseph rests against him, then jolts up, “shit, what time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

“Don’t worry” Indrid nestles next to his knees, “we’ll say I had car trouble and you two came to my aid.”

Joseph relaxes back among his boyfriends, “Good call. Just, um, don’t let Duck talk?”

“Only if I get an extra kiss for keepin my mouth shut.”

“Deal.”

#OT4: Government Men and There Cryptid Boyfriends #Indruck #agent stern/duck newton #sternclay #50s au #inclay #meet ugly #reader request #trans duck newton

[terrm9]

Cieli di Toscana

Words count: 1 600

Author’s note: I love Italy and Italian language, I miss hearing it, I miss eating gelato and the sea and I like Bocelli. That’s it, that’s all you need to know to understand this fluffy useless piece. Also, I tried to translate that one line the best I can, but my Italian is mediocre at best, so if someone from Italy sees it - please, feel free to correct my translation and don’t hate me if I got it absolutely wrong.

Takes place some weeks after the OHSY Finale.

It was raining heavily as Chiara stepped into Ethan’s car, making her sigh. 

“This is absolutely terrible weather for a road trip,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, earning an honest chuckle from Ethan.

They weren’t going on a road trip. They were invited to attend a conference in New York and as much as Ethan hated those, the vision of three whole days with Chiara, out of reach of the chaos that’s been erupting in Boston ever since Edenbrook’s closing and its subsequent grand re-opening, was enough for him to make a decision to go.

The excruciating rate of their lives in those past few months has also been reason why Ethan decided to drive for four hours to New York. Four hours on their way back and another four on their way back, eight full hours of the two of them being next to each other without anyone else’s presence, with nothing better to do than to simply be together. Hell, even if Chiara decided to just sleep the whole time, those eight hours of her peaceful sleep would be worth the time spent in a car.

“Okay, if you don’t want to start with my playlist,” Chiara waved indefinitely with her phone in the hand, “you better have something else than an audio book to listen to.”

To be absolutely honest, Ethan wouldn’t mind listening to her playlist if that would serve her best, however he gestured towards the dashboard on Chiara’s side of a car.

“There should be some old CD’s in there.”

Opening a storage space of the dashboard, Chiara raised her eyebrow at him and exclaimed: “Some old what? Have you ever heard of the possibility of connecting your phone to the radio?”

Ethan resisted his urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as he was in the middle of overtaking a truck. He knew what was coming and that he didn’t dispose of any power that could stop it.

“I remember the times when the only way to listen to something of your choice in a car was to use a CD. I said they were old.”

Chiara rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide the smirk that found its way onto her face. Of course he would remember that.

“Remind me again, which dinosaur was your favorite? You know, since you were lucky enough to live among them.”

“This joke is getting old.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, knowing that they would backfire terribly.

“Yes, and so are you,” Chiara replied without missing a beat, her triumphant grin so wide Ethan was sure her cheeks hurt.

She grabbed the first CD, disapprovingly muttering under her breath.

“Vivaldi, Sinatra, Schoenberg, another Sinatra, Bocelli? I know this one,” she turned to him with Italian tenor’s album in her hand.

Ethan glanced at her quickly and nodded, encouraging her to develop her statement.

“My mom loves Bocelli, like really loves, loves. I remember when this particular album came out, I was maybe eight or nine at the time and my mom would listen to it on repeat, all day for two solid weeks,” she chuckled to herself at the memory and decided to put the CD into the radio, letting herself get lost in the memories of her childhood. “My dad was going crazy, always shutting himself in his study to listen to Queen or David Bowie. I would usually follow him and when I asked him why he didn’t tell her to turn it off, he’d just smile, shrug and say something about the music making my mom happy.”

Chiara listened to the first track, the melody all too familiar despite not hearing it for at least fifteen years. It sounded like her parents and home and love. The unconditional love her father always held for her mother, the one that grossed her out when she was a kid and caused her to have unfulfillable expectations from boys when she was a teenager.

She always dreamt of meeting a man that would love her that way, the man that would listen to the music he hated and she loved just because it would make her happy.

Shaking her head slightly to get herself out of the dangerous waters of her mind, the waters of nostalgy, the waters of infinite sadness she felt when thinking about her dad and her brother and how they would never get to decide if Ethan deserved their precious Chia, their light, she cleared her throat and read the title written on the plastic cover of the CD.

“Cieli di Toscana. Do you know what that means?” she turned to Ethan, thankful that the traffic kept him from noticing how lost she’s been for the last few minutes.  

"Skies of Tuscany," Ethan replied, not tearing his gaze of the road.

Chiara smiled to herself, her mind taking her back to all those documentaries she's seen about that part of Italy.

"They must be bewitching. Skies of Tuscany, I mean," she leaned further into her seat, the soft melody of second song making it easier to just imagine being there, far away from struggles Boston had in store for her. "Have you ever been to Tuscany?"

Ethan nodded, his sharp gaze melting slightly as his focus has been divided between driving and reminiscing his time in Europe.

"Once. I've been attending a conference with Naveen in Florence. I hardly had any spare time for sightseeing and yet the city managed to render me speechless as I walked its narrow streets."

Despite his efforts to find a better word for the city, all he could think about, back then in Florence, was how romantic its streets were. He could still remember how his whole body both loved and hated the atmosphere and how, when he surly muttered that it was city made for couples, Naveen would laugh and say: „If you are clever enough not to repeat my mistakes, you will come back with a woman of your life one day and belong to those scandalous couples.“

Another memory flashed in his mind, too bright and fresh for his liking. The one where, laying on the thick fabric of hazmat suit that protected his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks slowly, Chiara admitted that she regretted not travelling more while she could.

„I’ll take you there, when this chaos settles down and we’re allowed to take some time off. I’ll take you to Tuscany then,“ he said softly, quietly, pretending to concentrate on the road, which must have looked absolutely ridiculous as the highway was currently deserted. He hoped Chiara didn’t notice how flushed the back of his neck suddenly became.

She didn’t.

Chiara was biting her cheek, staring back and forth at Ethan and the road. Her own cheeks were colored in a bright pink color, the sincerity of Ethan’s words making her weak.

It wasn’t only the fact that he remembered about her dream of visiting Italy. It wasn’t even about the way he told her, that he would take her. It was the fact that planning his future with her came so naturally to him at this point, he didn’t even need to think about it.

Lost in her thoughts once again, Chiara didn’t notice how Ethan’s eyes widened few seconds into fourth song when the recognition hit him.

It was the song he liked the most, the song that he would listen quite often to back in the days when this album kept him company on the roads.

It was the song that, just like the city of Florence, used to make that small, almost negligible part of him wish that he had someone to share it with.

With the rain falling heavily on the windshield, Chiara couldn’t hear Ethan’s almost unaudible singing. She could’ve easily miss it, if she didn’t notice his lips moving.

„Are you singing?“ she asked, absoltutely shocked. She caught him humming various melodies sometimes, but never in her whole life would she believe to see Ethan Ramsey sing.

‚Scusi se mi innamorai in un istante di lei per

l'aria serena che ha.‘

„Absolutely not,“ he shook his head, the wave of heat on his neck becoming almost unbearable. „I am reciting the lyrics, at best.“

How cute, Chiara thought.

However, she didn’t want to ruin the moment and so instead of teasing him mercilessly, she asked: „What does it say? The part that you absolutely weren‘t singing.“

„Excuse me if I, in an instant, fall in love with her for the air of serenity she has. Very freely translated.“

„How do you know the lyrics so well?“

„I like the song.“

„Sure, liking the song is one thing, but knowing – and singing – the lyrics is another. Especially when the lyrics is as soft as this one. Is the song special to you?“

She tried to ask it as casually as she could, as if she was simply curious, when really, there was a hint of jealousy blooming in her chest.

Was the song special to him? Did he use to recite it to his first girlfriend trying to impress her?

The car stopped at the red light, giving Ethan a chance to finally look at the woman next to him fully.

„It is now,“ he nodded, smiling softly as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

The expecting and so vulnerable green eyes staring back at him made his heart flutter. At this point, it was useless to pretened that he wasn’t utterly and terribly sappy when it came to her. Taking a deep breath, just before the red light turned to green, he whispered.

„The name of the song is Chiara.“

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ohsy