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hurtspideyparker · 1 month

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Hi, sorry but could you recommend any of your favourite Peter Parker fics please?

For sure !!! *cracks open ao3 bookmarks*

Thirty Hours by polaroid15 - Peter doesn't take any breaks during a lengthy fight with the Avengers. The mind-melting fever that follows really should have been expected.

Hurt Peter Parker, my favourite tag <3 I love when Spider-Man is a badass and also lacks self-preservation. He's so cool fighting alongside the Avengers and we get some sweet hurt/comfort irondad!

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain - Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

This fic is an icon in the fandom and for GOOD REASON. I just can not get enough of Peter Parker hiding his injuries. More heavy whump and angst!

All good things come in threes by Bergen - Peter has three secret identities: Spider-Man, the superhero who swings around the city to save people. Parker Benjamin, who gives Tony Stark unsolicited advice on his research. And NightMonkey, the Instagrammer who keeps uploading increasingly popular but embarrassing drawings of Iron Man.

And he can juggle them all just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Okay here is the fluff!!! Peter is a genius, a menace, and a sweetheart. Tony Stark runs into him (again and again) and can't help but have a soft spot for him every time. Funny and cute and an all 'round good time!

Held Together by Spiderwebs by TunaFishChris - Steve is not coping well in the twenty-first century. At all. Three months after the Chitauri invasion, he decides he's had enough.

But just as he's about to end it all, he runs into the new hero in town.

This one focuses a lot on Steve but I really like him and Peter's relationship in it, and I think this is great Peter Parker characterization. TW for discussions of depression and suicide, it gets a bit dark!

5 Times Spider-Man Saved an Avenger's Ass (and 1 Time They Saved Him) by TunaFishChris - this fic showcases how strong and capable Peter is, he's definitely a BAMF. I really like this genre where the Avengers know Spider-Man but not Peter Parker, makes Peter feel more independent and mature like in the comics.

Five Time Faculty Members Had to Call Peter's Emergency Contact + One Time He Shows Up Anyway, Five Times Tony Stark's Fabled Intern Just Showed Up + One Time He Was Invited, and Five Times Strangers Talked About Peter and Tony + One time Someone They Know Did by kingdomfaraway - I am just gonna recommend this entire series. Super fluffy, extreme irondad and spiderson. They're just adorable from an outside perspective and I love when Peter gets to just be Tony's intern and a teenager for a while :)

research and disaster by blueh - “So, uh, Mr. Stark definitely knows Roomba-Kid,” Becket says and discreetly tilts his head in the direction of the pair.

“Oh my god,” Jess says. She almost sounds gleeful. “Oh my god, he’s not just some random kid. He’s Mr. Stark’s kid.”

or: the interns at Stark Industries have some questions about Peter Parker. The answers aren’t quite what they expect.

I just love intern Peter mk? Let him be a kid genius and have fun!!! Fluffy and humorous, again with the irondad.

Captain, Oh My- Not My Captain! by uncouth_peasant - Peter swallowed hard before firing a web to swing into the fray. “Cap’s going after civilians. I’m out of time.”

Bruised and bloody men <3. Just Peter being a badass and getting beat to a pulp. Cool fighting, lots of Peter whump, and of course the Avengers being protective.

Good publicity by Bergen - Between Peter Parker barely speaking, and Spider-Man being the ultimate chatterbox, how was Tony ever supposed to figure out that they were one and the same person?

Tony Stark is secretly a softie for cute kids, especially when they're a genius and have a sense of humour to rival his own. Peter is a foster kid who ends up finding a home with Pepper and Tony, very sweet.

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - When Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves, simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help.

Heavy TW for this one, mind the tags. This is a popular fic and for good reason. A very mature and realistic portrayal of the foster care system and homelessness. The Peter angst is really great and I could barely put it down, that boy needs a hug so bad.

Now here's some hydra!Peter fics cuz they're my jam:

Peter is a precious chickpea by Bergen - They attack the HYDRA safe house shortly before sunrise.

The only people defending said safe house are Peter and Leo, and Leo slams his cell door open and starts spitting out orders, but then promptly gets clobbered over the head and keels sideways.

So that just leaves Peter. And he’s not even going to try to fight a whole team of Avengers. He looks up at Iron Man filling the doorway. “I surrender.”

He’s never been captured before and he’s not sure what to do. Escape, probably.

This entire series is PERFECT. I just love how adorable Peter is, and all the relationships Peter forms with the Avengers absolutely melt my heart. Peter's characterization in this is really unique and I wish there was more. The Bucky and Peter friendship is everythingggg. I love hydra!peter and bucky fics.

Indoctrination by phoenixon - The Avengers thought they were on a typical assignment: Infiltrate the Hydra base and find the weapon. What they didn't expect was the small boy raised by Hydra that they found instead. And they definitely didn't expect him to stay at Avengers Tower or how he somehow wormed his way into their lives. As for Peter, he just wants to be good and obey what the Hydra men told him so he doesn't get in trouble.

I just really love hydra Peter changing into a sweet and intelligent boy once he's rescued and safe, and how all the Avengers take up such heart-warming parental roles around him.

out there, living in the sun by Hailfire_73 - The Avengers rescue Peter from a Hydra base ran by his father, Richard Parker, except Peter doesn't really see it as a rescue, and has trouble settling into a new life away from Hydra and his father at the Avengers compound. OR - Peter learns how to be an actual teenager, live life, and put his abusive past behind him, and Tony learns how to be a father.

Hydra Peter but he's most definitely a traumatized and moody teenager. I really enjoyed Peter's character arc and the exploration of his trauma. It felt more realistic the way his journey isn't just a straight or clear path. He's more mature in this one and it was a really compelling read, balancing the angst with some humour and fluff. Loved the ending.

Tinker, Tailor, Spider by Bergen - Tony is roped into a mission to transport a teenager to safety. But when things go south, it soon becomes more and more puzzling who the teenager is and what ‘safety’ means for him.

I really enjoy that the author doesn't water Peter being hydra down. Yes he is a highly skilled assassin and a badass who's trauma pervades his every thought and decision. Made me fall in love with the Tony, Pepper, Morgan and Peter as a family dynamic. Super domestic while still highlighting Peter's troubled past.

#peter parker #spider man #ask #anon #fic rec #spiderman #marvel mcu #spider-man #peter parker angst #irondad and spiderson #tony stark #avengers #iron man #peter parker whump

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braintapes · 1 year

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Had maybe one of the stupidest dreams today I've ever had today.

I was browsing the comic book shop and spotted a Patrick Bateman/Batman crossover comic. I tried to show it to some people to laugh at it because the idea of it was so stupid, but everyone was just like, "Yeah yeah, the Patrick Bateman/Batman crossover. We've all seen it." Like it's this infamously bad comic, known and widely mocked for its obviously stupid premise, made for stupid reasons (ohh haha they both had the same actor what if they were the SAME GUY heehee) along with an extremely edgy and ridiculous story played completely straight.

Then it got made into a movie and I found myself trapped in the theater while it was playing. I had just enough awareness to know that if I left, I could shift the storyline of my dream to something, ANYTHING other than fucking Patrick Batman. I tried getting out quietly and non-disruptively, but there were no walkways or sidestairs anyway. Just rows and rows of seats with no way to leave.

So I'm climbing over seats and pushing past the people in the seats who are totally enraptured by the movie, while in the background Patrick Bateman AS Batman (NOT Christian Bale but like literally the character Patrick Bateman is just inexplicably also Batman) is doing increasingly absurd spy-movie type getaways from villains. He's doing over the top action movie stunts, ziplining across power lines, beating people up as he makes his way to wherever he's going.

Simultaneously I'M scrambling to leave this shitty movie and apologizing to people for having to get past them and everyone is getting increasingly angry with me, NOT because I'm being disruptive in a movie theater but because I'm not showing this extremely important cultural staple the proper respect it deserves. Like people are reverential about this movie and are aghast anyone could not be.

Patrick Batman's escapade culminates in him hang gliding around an island that's about to explode from both an earthquake and impending volcano eruption. He's hooting and hollering and having the time of his life and also trying/failing to make witty one-liners because he's still like, a complete loser he's just also in the batsuit while this is going on. And the audience is supposed to think this is legitimately COOL and something to look up to.

I don't make it out of the theater but I DO get distracted enough by someone with a sick ass metal contraption costume that I can move on until I wake up but god. GOD. why did i dream about this. what's going on my life that caused this.

#i told my brother about this today and he thought it was really funny and also a nightmare #which it WAS. i have better things to dream about!!!#the most nauseating part was when ppl were getting mad at ME for wanting to leave #like this eclipsed the nolan trilogys popularity when they came out #an entered the public consciousness as some. apex of movies or whatever #and im just like PLEASE let me OUT i cant take it

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

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Where We've Been (Ao3)

My friend @megachewbecca requested something set post-canon between Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng in which they talk about "why they have decided to channel all their disappointments with themselves into each other". I don't think it came out exactly like that but they do still have a conversation about Stuff!

[Masterpost]

“Oh great,” Jiang Cheng snaps with as much venom as he can muster - the type that typically sends his intended target scrambling for cover, and/or has his disciples watching on in undisguised glee for whatever verbal flaying is about to begin.

However, said venom is only occasionally directed at his current target (though it’s happening increasingly often simply through an increase in exposure to each other due to certain Wei Wuxian-shaped influences). In all the times that it has been, however, he’s only ever received the same style of response.

“.....Mn.”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitches and he refuses to acknowledge the headache already starting in his left temple.

“Don’t fucking start with that. I know you talk.”

Of all the people to be magically trapped in a cave with, Lan Wangji is absolutely without a doubt at the very bottom of his list. Below a fierce corpse, even, because then at least he’d have something to take his frustration out on. But no, he’s stuck with Lan fucking Wangji, because the universe is cruel like that. And this mere days after he had promised Wei Wuxian he would do his best to be more civil to Lan Wangji even though it was the so-great, so-wonderful, so-righteous Hanguang-jun who had a problem with him.

At the risk of sounding childish - he started it!

He walks a quick perimeter around the cave, trailing his hand along the wall to feel for any openings he could possibly miss in the uncertain light of the fire talisman in Lan Wangji’s hand. He’s nearly back to where he began when he feels a breath of moving air and he quickly moves towards it only for his entire arm to sink into what looks like solid rock. He yelps and jerks his arm back from whatever emptiness is on the other side of the illusion and then starts again when Lan Wangji is suddenly at his side between one breath and the next, utterly silent.

Jiang Cheng shifts away from both him and the wall as Lan Wangji steps closer to raise his free hand, pressing it forward until his hand sinks into the ‘rock’ just as Jiang Cheng’s had. He glances at Lan Wangji only to find his expression as impassive as ever from what he can tell, and he’s just opening his mouth to ask what he’s thinking when he suddenly just. Steps forward. Straight into the wall.

“Hey!”

Before he can think better of it, Jiang Cheng stumbles after him, disoriented in the sudden dark and then again by the sensation of pressure and cold closing in on him on all sides. The claustrophobia hits hard and fast as he takes another stumbling step forward - to be caught by a shockingly sturdy grip at his elbow.

“Careful,” Lan Wangji intones, holding the talisman a little higher as he looks around and Jiang Cheng shoves his hand away to straighten himself out, cheeks burning.

“Is it really such a good idea to go wandering around strange magic caves?” he grouses to the unmoving pillar of Lan Wangji’s back. His stupidly tall guan is poking up above his head and Jiang Cheng is seized suddenly with the childish urge to throw something at it - nothing big, just a pebble or something. Just to see if he can hit the point of it from behind. Just to see if he can make the perfect Lan Wangji do something besides walk around looking all...stately.

He absolutely refuses to acknowledge that it was similar desires that had motivated Wei Wuxian to tease and taunt his future husband in their teenage years - this is extremely different.

“We have wandered dangerous places before,” Lan Wangji replies smoothly and the full sentence is genuinely shocking. Jiang Cheng tries to remember the last time Lan Wangji had said a full sentence to him and he comes up blank. For years it’s been nothing but monosyllabic words, one of his plethora of hums, or one of his little duckling-esque juniors covering his ass and talking for him (as if Jiang Cheng can’t understand when he’s being snubbed with or without their ‘translating’).

In the surprise of being spoken to at all, it takes Jiang Cheng an extra beat or two to realize what he’d actually said, and when he does it brings him up short. He knows precisely what he’s referring to, of course, but his mouth quicker than his brain and all he can manage to do is croak a hoarse,

“What?”

Lan Wangji turns back to look at him, face inscrutable in the flicker of the fire talisman, though his eyes are, as always, sharp and keen.

“It was once our common goal to find Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji replies smoothly. “We faced dangers during our search, including Wei Ying himself when we found him.”

“He wasn’t -”

“Dangerous? Hm.” Jiang Cheng can’t help but scowl at the obvious skepticism in that fucking hum. He’ll never understand how Wei Wuxian finds Lan Wangji’s hums endearing (which he has said on far too many occasions) rather than absolutely infuriating.

“He wouldn’t have hurt us!”

“Debatable. He was barely himself, and he did not know we were present at first. It was possible we would be harmed.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t have a good reply to that so he doesn’t bother trying to find one, he simply starts walking and tries not to hate that Lan Wangji doesn’t even miss a beat as he falls into step beside him, still obnoxiously perfect.

“Alright fine,” he says when the silence becomes unbearable, roughly ten steps later. “So we worked together for a little while two decades ago. So what?”

“Your skills were admirable then, I know they have only improved over the years. I doubt we are in much danger in a cave in a well-populated region. It will not hurt to learn what is here.”

Fuck Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng thinks with as much vitriol as possible. He can’t say why it irritates him down to his core to be complimented by him, even obliquely, but honestly he’s pretty sure he’d prefer the stony, angry silences he’s been subjected to for so many years instead.

They walk in silence for a little while then, both on alert for something out of the ordinary. It’s Jiang Cheng who feels it first again and he stops in his tracks, holding one hand out and following a thready, barely-there stream of cooler air to a wall, utterly indistinguishable from the rest of the space around them.

“We should mark where we’ve been, just in case,” he says as his hand sinks into the rock like it’s made of pudding. The mental image adds an odd layer of unpleasantness to the cool pressure of it, the idea of it...congealing around his hand making him wrinkle his nose a bit in distaste.

“Mn.”

Jiang Cheng loses the battle against rolling his eyes but he says nothing only because Lan Wangji follows it up with a gesture that leaves a signature on the solid part of the wall next to the illusion, the characters glowing a gentle blue.

“Any way you could do one of those back at the beginning in case someone needs to come hunting for our bodies?” he asks as dryly as he can manage to try to get a rise out of his companion, but all it earns him is a flat look that Lan Wangji doesn’t break as he repeats the gesture only to send the talisman darting back up the path the way they had come.

He’s pretty sure it would be physically impossible for him to scowl any deeper than he does when Lan Wangji waves him ahead towards the false wall, the silent ‘after you’ somehow full of so much sarcasm it’s very much toeing the line of insulting, at least in Jiang Cheng’s book.

This time he’s prepared for the discomfort of the illusion and he walks smoothly through it. He turns to watch Lan Wangji join him and he’s startled to realize he doesn’t even seem to walk through the wall. One moment Jiang Cheng is alone on the path in the pitch black and the next Lan Wangji is beside him looking as unruffled as ever, fire talisman still glowing between his extended fingers held at shoulder-height.

“Do you have more of those?” Jiang Cheng asks begrudgingly with a nod at the light. He knows it’s Wei Wuxian’s invention, and that he of all people has no business asking to use it when he’s spent so long hunting down any trace of his brother’s work to destroy it utterly. He also knows that Lan Wangji is equally aware of this, and yet he simply reaches into the front of his robes to withdraw another talisman between his fingertips and hold it out for him to take. He studies it for a long few moments once it’s in his hands, but he can find nothing suspicious in it at all. It should be a good thing. It is. But it also only serves to make him feel foolish, as he has many times since Wei Wuxian’s return.

“It will not harm you,” Lan Wangji just has to break his silence to supply, because of course he fucking does, the asshole.

“I know that!” Jiang Cheng snaps. He leaves off investigating the talisman any further to stuff it in the front of his own robes, just in case they should get separated. “You think I don’t understand Wei Wuxian’s inventions? I know them better than anyone.”

“Debatable.”

“Fucking debate it then!” he challenges as he storms off, Lan Wangji somehow seeming to walk sedately even as he keeps pace with him.

“Wei Ying is a prolific inventor. He uses our home as a workspace. He describes each of his new inventions to me in detail, and I offer assistance when necessary to refine his processes.”

“Fine, you know his inventions better now, but I’m the one who spent 13 years chasing down all his notes and the morons trying to use them for themselves!”

“Recognition of the work for the purpose of destruction does not in itself lead to understanding that which you are destroying.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“I assist him with all of his techniques, old and new, demonic and orthodox. I do not, nor have I ever, attempted to ruin his work - unlike you.”

Jiang Cheng stops in his tracks and whirls around to face Lan Wangji who finally has a different expression on his face, though how he managed to make himself look even colder than before Jiang Cheng has no idea.

“ ‘Unlike me’,” he repeats, his voice utterly flat in another way that usually has people scrambling for cover, though of course Lan Wangji seems completely unmoved.

“We are fundamentally different, Jiang Wanyin.”

“Yeah no shit,” he mutters as he turns around again to continue forward at an angry, too-quick clip that Lan Wangji effortlessly keeps stride with, the fucker. “Those people who tried to follow in his footsteps were murderers.”

“Mn. They were irresponsible. Wei Ying has expressed regrets that his notes found unworthy hands to wield them.”

“And yet not one other person ever tried to stop them! It was just me this whole fucking time! What else was I supposed to do, just let them run rampant?!”

“No.”

Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on Sandu as he’s forced to acknowledge that he understands what Lan Wangji was really conveying even through a single syllable - that he recognizes that he had done what he felt he had needed to do to protect the innocents that were his responsibility, and yet there’s still a note of judgement in his voice that puts Jiang Cheng’s hackles up.

“But?” he prompts through his teeth.

“Disposing of Wei Ying’s notes out of anger that they were being misused by others was unnecessary and self-serving.”

“Well they’re gone anyway and all your disapproval of my methods isn’t going to bring them back.”

Lan Wangji stops all at once and Jiang Cheng walks on a few steps ahead before he realizes and stops as well, turning back to face him with a scowl.

“What?”

“Illusion.” Lan Wangji turns to run his fingertips along the wall to his left, moving slowly until the wall swallows them up. He withdraws to sketch another marking talisman and leaves it on the wall before stepping forward into the illusion, leaving Jiang Cheng to scramble after him in the dark, guided only by the blue talisman.

“Stop doing that!” he blusters as soon as he gets through. “It’s fucking dark in here and you have the light!”

“Mn.”

“And stop doing that!!” he outright shouts at Lan Wangji and his stupid fucking nothingness. He’s as blank and icy as ever and Jiang Cheng suddenly realizes that he has officially had it. “What is your fucking problem?! You said it yourself that we’ve worked together before, we fought together during the Sunshot Campaign, what’s so different now?!”

Jiang Cheng finally goes quiet as Lan Wangji’s expression..shifts. Outwardly, he doesn’t really seem to change that much, especially not in the uncertain light of the talisman. But there’s something about his bearing, his presence that changes and it’s only then that Jiang Cheng realizes that what he’s been faced with so far is Lan Wangji’s distant disapproval. What he’s looking at now is..anger. The sort of anger that has given Lan Wangji as fearsome of a reputation in some circles as Jiang Cheng has earned for himself.

He refuses to back down as Lan Wangji practically stalks closer, each step precise and deliberate until he’s right in front of him, glaring from under furrowed brows and looking down his nose at him in a way Jiang Cheng viscerally hates.

“You killed Wei Ying.”

It’s delivered utterly flat, cutting and sharp at the edges. Through his teeth, through the proper Lan version of a snarl. It leaves Jiang Cheng speechless, floundering for a moment through the slice of it in his heart. It hurts as much as it has any time someone has dared to point it out to him - he thinks back to that day of Wei Wuxian’s reappearance in the mountains and the Lan kid who had reminded him he’d killed Wei Wuxian himself and he wonders suddenly just who it was who had taught the Lan juniors that part of the story. It had been common knowledge in the aftermath of the battle, but he realizes now that Lan Wangji, extremely influential and vital to the education of the next generation, has been holding that grudge close to his heart for twenty years. Who knows what else he’s taught them about that awful day.

“What?”

Now Lan Wangji really does snarl, lips pulled back over his teeth and nose wrinkled in disgust as he steps forward and Jiang Cheng takes an automatic step back only to be crowded back against the wall.

Lan Wangji was right - they’re more dangerous than anything in this cave could be, and Jiang Cheng very much doesn’t like getting that reminder when he’s apparently the prey.

“You killed my Wei Ying. You failed him.”

“ ‘Your Wei Ying’?!” he retorts as he finds his metaphorical footing again. “That was news to me when he suddenly popped back up, you know! You sure as fuck didn’t bother making that clear back when it could have helped him.”

It’s instantly clear that he struck a nerve and he presses the advantage as something shutters in Lan Wangji’s furious glare.

“You want to talk about who failed him? You didn’t manage to protect him either! You hid in your mountain and you Lan thought you were above the whole world, and by the time you realized what was happening it was too late to protect him!”

“I know.”

The admission draws Jiang Cheng up short and at least some of his anger bleeds out of him as Lan Wangji’s glare fades a little further and he drops his eyes down somewhere around his shoulder, though he’s still got him crowded up against the wall and a glance down shows that Bichen is half out of her sheath.

“You know?”

“I have discussed it with Wei Ying in detail. He has forgiven me.”

“He’s forgiven me too!”

Lan Wangji’s gaze darts up to meet his again, ice cold but no longer distant - this cold judgement is now very personal. Jiang Cheng is chagrined to realize he already misses the detached, uncaring attitude of mere minutes ago.

“He has forgiven you. I will never.”

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath in when Lan Wangji steps back to give him his space again, and if it shakes a little then that’s his business alone.

He heard the rumors back then. That Lan Wangji had killed to protect the Burial Mounds. Their paths had crossed many times over the years in their dual pursuit of hints and rumors of demonic cultivation, of whispers of the Yiling Laozu returned as a vengeful spirit, or reincarnated, or miraculously alive and gathering disciples. He had assumed then that their goal had been the same, but now he wonders if when he had been seeking to squash any evidence of his brother’s work, Lan Wangji had been chasing it in the hopes of finding more. Finding truth in the rumors. Finding Wei Wuxian.

He can admit to himself, deep down in the private spaces left inside of him that no one is allowed to see, that he had been disappointed each time the rumors had proven to be fake, or each time a new demonic cultivator was nothing but a cheap knockoff of Wei Wuxian using scraps of his notes to try to chase the full scope of the power he had developed. He had been angry with himself - furious, even - for that disappointment, but that didn’t make it any less real. All those years of searching, hunting, and in the end it had gotten him..nothing.

It was Lan Wangji who had won in the end. Wei Wuxian lives with him in Cloud Recesses. He visits Lotus Pier now that they’ve repaired at least the bulk of the damage to their relationship over the years since Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s wedding following the revelation of Jin Guangyao’s plotting. Sometimes he stays for months on end, treating Lotus Pier as his home and returning to Cloud Recesses for short visits. But in the end he always returns to Gusu. To his husband.

He always leaves Lotus Pier - and her master - behind.

“Well, you won in the end anyway,” he says now into the loaded silence around them. He refuses to look at Lan Wangji as he steps away from the wall and continues along the path, lost in thought. “He chose you and Cloud Recesses over coming home when everything was over. Congratulations.”

Lan Wangji is silent at his side for quite some time as they walk, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother trying to break the quiet this time. They continue this way for a while, communicating with gestures when they find another illusion, and then yet another. It’s as they’re walking through the tunnel behind this fifth false wall of the night that Lan Wangji finally speaks.

“He longs for Lotus Pier.”

Jiang Cheng scoffs and tightens his grip around Sandu. “Well no one’s stopping him from coming home.”

“You misunderstand.”

“Speak plainly then, who can know what you mean when you hardly say anything?”

The judgemental silence that follows makes him grind his teeth even though he doesn’t know quite what he’s being judged for.

“He longs for the Lotus Pier that no longer exists but for in his heart and his memory.”

Jiang Cheng has to stop in his tracks at that and take a deep breath in, hold it, let it out slowly. His grip on Sandu doesn’t loosen, but some of the tension in his shoulders does as they slump ever so slightly under the weight of his heavy silk robes - robes befitting his status. He hardly notices that weight anymore, he’s had far too many years of carrying it, but sometimes it feels like he’ll be crushed under the burden of them.

“We rebuilt it using the old builders’ plans. It’s nearly identical to what it was before.”

“You are aware that is not the point.”

“Enlighten me then, oh great Hanguang-jun.”

The next silence feels..considering, and Jiang Cheng spares a thought to be dismayed that he’s learning how to read Lan Wangji’s many silences, whether he wants to or not (he doesn’t). He hates it when Wei Wuxian is right, and in this moment he’s forcefully reminded of how many times his brother has asserted that it’s possible to read Lan Wangji as easily as anyone else if one only knows what to look for. Jiang Cheng has never been interested in learning what to look for himself, but it seems he’s going to anyway.

“Wei Ying lives life in each moment. It is unusual for him to dwell in the past unless forced to. He is my opposite. I understand well the pain in his eyes when he returns from Lotus Pier. He is unsettled by the lack of familiar faces, the easy happiness of the past, and by the reminders that time has been cruel in its passing.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth drops open but he hastily shuts it again when Lan Wangji looks at him, eyes once again unreadable.

“I believe if he could somehow find a way to travel through time and return to when the Lotus Pier of your childhood was the only home he knew, he would. If he could return to when you and Jiang Yanli were his world, he would. The knowledge that this version of Lotus Pier is lost to him for good is not an easy burden to bear, and each visit is a reminder of his aches.”

“Stop.” Jiang Cheng turns his head in an attempt to hide that his eyes are suddenly stinging and his throat tight. It’s useless to hide, he knows, but his pride won’t allow him to cry in front of Lan Wangji, not like this. “You think he’s the only one who feels that way? I live there. I live it every single fucking day.”

“Then you understand.” Jiang Cheng says nothing in reply. It’s not really a question - they both know that he does. He wouldn’t have been so determined to remake Lotus Pier so exactly if he didn’t. “Do you begrudge him his attempt to live without this pain?”

“Yes!”

“Then you are hurting him further.”

Jiang Cheng musters up a glare through the sting of his sorrow, but he’s not sure how effective it is considering his eyes are still fighting desperately to shed their tears. Either way, Lan Wangji meets his glare with something that looks frustratingly like understanding. He doesn’t want Lan Wangji to understand him. He wants to argue with him, fight with him, force him to admit that for all their opposites they’re also fundamentally similar in one way that matters more than anything else -

They love Wei Wuxian.

It takes on different flavors, different appearances, but the fact remains that they love him down to their bones.

“Do you know why Wen Zhuliu was able to destroy my core?” he suddenly asks. If Lan Wangji is surprised by the change in subject he doesn’t show it. He simply shakes his head after a moment of consideration. “We were running, we were hiding, but Wei Wuxian left to get medicine for jie, she had gotten a fever after our parents...after everything. He told me to stay put in our room at the inn, but I didn’t. I saw Wen soldiers out in the street, they were looking for us and they spotted him, they were going to drag him away as soon as they realized who he was. I couldn’t...I let them catch me instead. They took me instead.”

His deepest secret. Something he hasn’t even told Wei Wuxian in all their talks over the last few years, and he, for some reason, has decided to tell fucking Lan Wangji, of all people. It is, he supposes, the last defense he feels he has. He loves his brother. He sacrificed his life for him. It’s not his fault that it didn’t stick, that Wei Wuxian would rip his very soul apart with his own two hands if he thought it would protect the people he cares about.

“He was never supposed to lose his. None of this was ever supposed to happen,” he finishes, unable to raise his voice above a crackling whisper. “I never meant to hurt him.”

Silence falls again, but for the first time tonight it feels...almost comfortable. Not quite companionable, but it’s not anything else really either. It simply is, the weight of the moment and his admission too heavy to cheapen with words.

He starts walking again when he feels capable of putting one foot in front of the other and Lan Wangji walks beside him. They go on through another tunnel of the cave that looks much the same as the others, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even care if they’re lost, if they’re going in circles, if they’re not doing much of anything at all. It’s nice to just walk, to move, to not be alone with his thoughts in the dark as he has been far too many times over the years.

“You know Sizhui,” Lan Wangji says after a while of this, and Jiang Cheng snorts without much amusement.

“The polite kid who always talks for you like I don’t know you well enough to know you’re telling me to go fuck myself in your head? Yeah.”

“Mn. He is my son.”

That brings Jiang Cheng up short again and though he doesn’t stop walking he does stumble a bit and turn a shocked glare on Lan Wangji, still walking blithely along.

“Your son?!”

“Mn. His existence was kept quiet outside of Cloud Recesses. It is my understanding that outside of the Sect he is now known as an inner family disciple, but it is suspected he is a cousin.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That is intentional, for his safety.”

“Why for his safety? Is being your kid that dangerous? When did you even...have a kid? With who?”

The glare Lan Wangji gives him out of the corner of his eye can only be described as ‘scathing’ and Jiang Cheng will admit that he kind of admires it. Envies it, really. It’s a pretty good glare.

“I adopted him. He was Wei Ying’s before he was mine.”

Jiang Cheng stares blankly ahead again as he tries to reconcile that, come to terms with it. All at once, he thinks back to the single time he had been to the Burial Mounds when it had still been a safe haven for the Wens. When a bright-eyed child had clung to his leg, and Wei Wuxian had swooped in to pick him up, to hold him and talk to him like a parent, to scold him with a smile on his lips and offer him gentle affection before sending him on his way.

He thinks about Lan Wangji defending the Burial Mounds from the cultivators who had wanted to sack the place after Wei Wuxian’s death, and he thinks about the Wens who had sacrificed themselves at Jinlintai.

He thinks about Jin Guangshan bragging about wiping out the remaining Wens in one fell swoop, and how if he was drunk enough, if the right person asked him to tell the story, he would boast that he had made sure that every last person had accounted for the crimes of their family. In his accounts, though, there had never been mention of a child - and his retellings had been painfully detailed.

“He’s that kid from the Burial Mounds. A-Yuan,” he whispers with dawning horror. “He’s Wen Yuan?!”

“Mn. Should you reveal his identity, no one will find your body to put it to rest.”

That makes Jiang Cheng snort again and this time he actually is a little amused. “Threats, Hanguang-jun? Not terribly righteous of you.”

“Without Wei Ying, A-Yuan was the only reason I could find to continue living. I would kill without hesitation for him, for Wei Ying.”

“You already have,” Jiang Cheng points out - everyone knows what had happened when Lan Wangji had defended the Burial Mounds, and Jiang Cheng at least is aware that Lan Wangji had also killed at Nightless City. He had seen him protecting Wei Wuxian, killing any cultivators who tried to get near enough to stop Wei Wuxian from playing that damned flute of his, to stop him from killing more and more of their own. He wonders how many people now, if any, know that some of the deaths from that night that have been laid at Wei Wuxian’s feet rightfully belong at Lan Wangji’s.

“Mn. I have.”

“And you know if Wei Wuxian could hear us talking about...all of this, he’d tell us both that he didn’t ask us to, that he doesn’t deserve all of this.”

“Yes.”

Jiang Cheng sighs and shakes his head, irritated with his brother and his self-sacrificing tendencies even now, all these years later because he just never fucking learns.

“Does it really hurt him to come to Lotus Pier?”

“It saddens him, but there is happiness as well. He was afraid of losing you as well even though you both live. He is relieved he has not. It is..complicated.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath, but he knows Lan Wangji hears him anyway. They continue in another silence, and a few minutes later Jiang Cheng finds another illusion. “What the hell is going on in this cave?” he finally asks, exasperated once they’re on the other side of it in yet another identical tunnel.

Lan Wangji doesn’t answer, he merely keeps walking forward and Jiang Cheng is forced to follow him with a scowl firmly fixed on his face.

“I will never forgive you for killing Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says into the quiet. “However, it saddens him to feel that he must consistently choose between us. I will not make him choose any longer.”

“You were complicit in it too, you can’t keep pinning this just on me you know!”

“I will do what I will. However, you are my brother-in-law, and you have given Wei Ying happiness in this life.”

“Yeah well I hate you too, but I guess there’s not much I can do about it either since the idiot married you.”

“Indeed. A truce, then.”

“Fine. Truce.”

Jiang Cheng glances sideways at Lan Wangji to find him looking at him similarly out of the corner of his eye, and after a moment the corner of his mouth twitches into the barest hint of a smirk.

“What?”

“You should hunt with Wei Ying more often,” he replies and before Jiang Cheng asks him what he means, he stops to sketch another talisman in the air, this one a bright blood-red, and when he releases it there’s the sensation of a pressure he hadn’t even noticed in the air releasing and he works his jaw to pop his ears as he looks around only to realize that they’re back in the room they had started in. And on the wall where he had spotted the first illusion there are a series of marks glowing blue, all in a line one right after the other - the markers for each false wall they had passed through.

“What the fuck?”

“Awwww Lan Zhan! No fun, he would’ve kept going for hours,” Wei Wuxian suddenly pouts and Jiang Cheng whirls around to find his brother leaning insolently against the wall where the entrance to the cave had been sealed - and is sealed no longer. He looks past his brother’s shoulder to find that the entrance is once again open to the air beyond it, the smell of their campfire at the entrance filtering into the space along with the sound of the juniors from their sects laughing and chatting, relaxing after their hunt earlier in the evening.

“Mn.”

“Wei Wuxian!”

The man in question dances away from his lunge with a laugh that rings off the stone around them.

“A-Cheng!!!” he sing-songs, drawing the sound out as he darts over to hide behind his husband standing still in the center of the room. “Did you like my illusion? I’ve been practicing. Lan Zhan didn’t you tell him it was an experiment?”

“He did not ask.”

“Yes I fucking did!!!” Jiang Cheng shouts and he makes another grab for Wei Wuxian, fully intending to yank him into a headlock at least, but he’s stopped by Bichen held across his path and Lan Wangji raising an admonishing eyebrow at him.

“You asked what was happening. The answer was ‘illusions’, too obvious to bother with. You did not ask whose, or for what purpose.”

“I hate you both,” Jiang Cheng snaps because that’s a Wei Wuxian-style answer if he’s ever heard one, just..Lan-ified. He refuses to think about the possibility that those two are more suited to each other than anyone might suspect and instead he turns to stomp over to the entrance with the intention to go pilfer alcohol from Wei Wuxian’s stash. He deserves it after being forced to have an emotional conversation with Lan Wangji, of all people.

The acoustics of the cave mean that the voices behind him reach his ears even as he walks up the tunnel that leads to the forest outside.

“Did you have a good talk with him, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“Thank you.”

“No need.”

“Aiyah I know, but thank you anyway. The two people I love most in the world should get along.”

“A-Yuan and I get along very well.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian laughs and thankfully Jiang Cheng steps free of the tunnel into the clearing just beyond it before he has to hear any more, his ears and heart burning with the knowledge that Wei Wuxian loves him. That he finally has his brother back, even if it’s in a way he would have never chosen for them.

“Jiang-zhongzhu?” a mild voice asks, too gentle to startle, and he turns his head to find Lan Sizhui waiting nearby, a nervous expression on his sweet features, still just a little round with boyhood though it will likely only be another year or two before he loses all trace of baby fat whatsoever and matures into the man he’s quickly becoming along with the rest of his generation.

He meets the boy’s wide, earnest eyes and finds his defenses crumbling as he sees in him the boy who had hugged his leg and looked up at him with a curious little smile right in the middle of the misery of the Burial Mounds. He sighs heavily and turns his whole body to face him properly, his hands on his hips as he stares him down. To his credit, Lan Sizhui doesn’t cower or fall back at all, he simply waits patiently for Jiang Cheng to speak his mind.

“You might as well call me Jiujiu,” he harrumphs and Lan Sizhui’s expression falls open in surprise (and seriously, this kid was raised by Lan Wangji? He doesn’t see it.) “What? My stupid brother is your diedie isn’t he? You don’t have to, but..You can. If you’d like to.”

“Alright. Jiujiu,” Lan Sizhui replies, smiling and clearly pleased. The quiet moment is broken almost immediately by - who else - Wei Wuxian.

“DIDI!!!” he shouts, startling a nearby flock of birds, and it’s all the warning he gets before Wei Wuxian practically throws himself at him to cling to his side. “I knew you cared! Now you have to buy him presents for all his important occasions and we’ll bring him to Lotus Pier for New Year’s and -”

“Get off me!” Jiang Cheng growls as he shoves at Wei Wuxian without much success.

In the midst of their tousle, neither of them notice Lan Wangji drifting to Lan Sizhui’s side to press a comforting hand to his shoulder and gently guide him back in the direction of the camp, a rare, pleased little smile on his lips.

#The untamed fanfic #Lan Wangji & Jiang Cheng #Wangxian #Lan Wangji #Jiang Cheng #Wei Wuxian #Lan Sizhui #<- very briefly #post-canon #reconciliation

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lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

daybreak // steve rogers ✨

hi! i decided to make a tumblr so that i can write here too, not just on AO3 - please be nice to me i’m nervous 🥺 enjoy! xx

↳ summary: an insight into the relationship between steve rogers and his little ray of sunshine.

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ warnings: a lot of cute domestic fluff and some dom/sub undertones bc steve is a closet freak and that’s that

READ SUNDOWN

Steve learned from a young age not to stare directly at the sun but that was becoming an increasingly difficult task when he has a clingy little everyone seemed little to him ray of sunshine sprawled out in his bed most mornings. She carries a certain wonder about her and he is sure that she must be aware of it to some extent for in his eyes, it is impossible for somebody to entrance and captivate the people around her as much as she does without even knowing it.

She isn’t perfect - she snores - loud - and is clumsy and speaks too fast and too loud sometimes. But she can be quiet - like in her refusal to burden him on any of the days when she is feeling more akin to the color of the sky against the New York skyline outside their massive apartment windows than the sunflowers that she insists on keeping on the dining table during the whole year. Or the way she draws in on herself when she’s being heavily criticized, diamond eyes shining in a way that makes his heart freefall to his stomach. The way she can get insecure about her work despite the way people laud it. She is too hard on herself, doesn’t know when to stop even when she is dead on her feet and cries often and quick if she fails to achieve whatever her little fighting heart is set on.

But she is his. Her bright and youthful spirit chose his old and weary one, painting over the tainted black and grey with vibrant yellows and reds and greens and golds using the fine sable brushes that he has tucked away in the lower drawer of his bedside table. Years ago he had come out of the ice, but he had never truly unfrozen until she came and melted him, his own personal sunlight with her arms wrapped around his neck and with him wrapped around her little finger.

Steve had never considered himself a poet. An artist, yes, but even that was a modest affirmation. But then she came into his life, all breezy skirts and pouty lips and he knew that he would have to find a new way to articulate his feelings because he failed to find a way to express how she made him feel. Like eating cool orange slices outside in the summer, the juice running down your chin but you don’t care because the weather’s hot and you’re in love. Like stepping into a warm department store when it’s snowing, knowing full well that you won’t buy anything but it doesn’t matter because you’re warm and you’re in love. Like laying surrounded by loved ones but your arm is cramping because your cousin has been laying on it for hours, but that’s not important because they’re comfortable and you’re in love.

In love. It doesn’t seem like enough to describe what he feels for you, the way that heat blooms in his chest every time you lock eyes or how your smile makes the steady beating of his super soldier heart stutter. Even now, looking down at your sleeping form, he can’t help the boyish smile that grows on his face. His right hand rests on your waist and your head rests right over his heart, the pulsing of it lulling you to sleep the night before. His left hand comes up, thumb gently caressing the bottom lip of your wide-open mouth.

He can feel the magic buzzing in the air in moments like these, the subtle beauty of it all, the life he thought he would never have. You shift on his chest, throwing a leg over his and then settling. Steve exhales, watching the sunlight stream through the crack in the blinds and reflect off of your bare shoulder that his t-shirt has fallen off of, shrouded in the white cotton of the sheets. You were-

His thought process is interrupted by a loud snore and some quiet muttering before you bury your face deeper into his chest. A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest, causing you to shift some more and a quiet groan to escape your lips. He presses a kiss to your forehead and you half-open your eyes as he looks down at you in a way that you can only describe as reverently.

“Good mornin’, doll,” he rasps, voice deeper from sleep and it caresses your ears, making you coo.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, blinking sleepily up at him, kissing his bare chest right over his heart. “How long have you been up?”

Steve hesitates, contemplating lying for a split second but then he remembers who he’s talking to. He needs not feel embarrassed when you’re around, your accepting nature allowing him to express himself while avoiding judgement.

“A couple of hours now,” he replies, tracing patterns on your bare shoulder absent-mindedly. He glances over at the clock - 8:44 a.m - and exhales deeply, pushing your head deeper into his chest. You wouldn’t need to be up until around 10, because after that, Tony would surely be up to disrupt your peace with incessant teasing. Today you had offered to help Bruce in the lab with some undisclosed - but “very safe, I can assure you” - project, but that was supposed to be for early in the afternoon.

“Time really flies when you’re being a creep, huh, old man?” You tease, eyes full of mirth as you stare up at the love of your life.

He smirks, digging his fingers into your sides making you giggle and squirm on top of him.

“Watch your mouth there, young lady,” he calls you out in his captain voice, making your stomach flutter and your eyes lower in submission. He knows what that voice does to you, how it melts your resolve. His smirk only grows when he realizes how your eyes have dropped and how quiet you’ve become. “Don’t worry, baby, I know you have work to do. I won’t spank you today. You can find a way to thank me later.”

He follows his last sentence up with a wink and you giggle, always content about how soft he makes you in the morning. Later you may find the time to exhibit your bratty behaviour, but for now, everything was soft and sweet and quiet. You nuzzle your face into his neck and his hands slip down to grip your ass.

“I’m sure I will find a way later, Captain,” you mutter, yawning. His hands start to move in slow, languid circles, as both of you know that you have some time left in your little safe haven bathed in golden light and wrapped up in each other’s body heat. “What are you gonna do today, super soldier?”

He sighs, licking his lips and your eyes can’t help but follow the movement of his pink tongue peeking out between those perfectly pink lips. Instinctively, you bring a hand up to trace their outline, fully appreciating the beauty of the man that you hold captive beneath you.

His pretty blue eyes stare contemplatively at the ceiling and you notice how in this light, they look greener than they do blue. It was as if God himself poured a vat of molten gold into the ocean of his eyes, letting it sit and reflect the sun on this early morning. His cheekbones are pronounced and his jaw is strong, giving his face such a classically beautiful structure. The spun flaxen strands of his golden mane are unruly, but the time that the angels had spent slaving away and spinning it does not go unappreciated. You have a sudden urge to run your fingers through it, but instead your eyes are drawn to his moles and his freckles. They make constellations across his unblemished skin you’re jealous and reassure you that this perfect man that lays beneath you is still indeed human.

“You’re so damn pretty , baby,” you sigh, interrupting whatever response he was about to provide to your question. He smiles up at you and you return it easily, leaning down to place a soft kiss right on top of his lips. He grips your ass slightly tighter pulling you deeper into it. You make a noise of surprise that he quickly swallows, then moving his lips to nip and suck at your neck. Last night was long and he made love to you slowly and lazily, bringing you right to the edge again and again. Keeping up with his elevated libido was a constant but extremely enjoyable workout for you, one that he always found amusing.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says once he relinquishes your lips from his hold, pecking you one more time. “But I don’t think I’m the pretty one in this relationship.”

He kisses you again before you can protest but then sits up abruptly, taking you with him and making you squeal. Your arms are still wound around his neck while your legs cling desperately onto his waist. His hands still rest on your ass and he wears a bright smile on his face.

“I don’t know about you, doll,” he starts, walking through your shared apartment towards the kitchen. You’re only wearing his t-shirt - one of the bigger ones because why are his shirts always so small - and he can’t help but admire how pretty you look in his clothing. He thinks that he wants to keep you like this forever. “But I’m a little hungry.”

You side-eye him at the potential double entendre - the abused flesh between your legs is already screaming in protest. He doesn’t look at you, but continues looking straight ahead with that naughty little fucking smile on his face, the picture of innocence.

“For food though, sweetheart, I swear it,” he finally cracks, laughing shortly while placing you on the kitchen counter. He deposits another kiss on the tip of your nose, looking at your bratty little pout causing his hand to twitch. He knows that he wouldn’t - can’t spank his best girl before breakfast - and you really are too sore from last night to go again for at least a few more hours. Because, if Steve’s being honest to himself, it never just stops at spanking.

But you’re clingy in the mornings so as soon as he turns to grab a pan from one of the cupboards, you clench your legs tighter around his waist. Turning to you once more, he raises an eyebrow and your pout only intensifies. He doesn’t do anything but kiss it once more before unwrapping your legs from his waist with those strong big ass motherfucking hands .

“What you do want for breakfast, babydoll?” He asks, successfully grabbing the pan this time. You chew on your lip, thinking hard.

“Pancakes?” You question, looking up at him for confirmation. He nods, a smile on his face.

“Go put on your music or something, baby - we can make them together.”

And that’s how you ended up dancing around the kitchen to one of the songs on your playlist, shaking your ass and singing obnoxiously loud as Steve watched you humorously, flipping a pancake here and a piece of bacon there. Soon, you both have glasses full of juice and about three dozen chocolate chip pancakes, as well as multiple pieces of bacon.

When you shove a piece of pancake into your mouth, Steve catches your eye across the jar of sunflowers on the table, light glinting off of the fork that you’re holding and the white plates adorning the table. He dwarfs his hand in yours and plays idly with your fingers.

“I love you,” he states definitively, as if he is stating his name and what color the sky is.

A mouth full of pancake, you grin at him. Quickly swallowing, you lean over the table and kiss him soundly on the lips. He tastes like orange juice and maple syrup and Steve .

“I love you too,” you reply, a small smile on your lips. His smile grows until you snort the last word, your own grin spreading.

“Dork.”

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Only Live Forever in the Lights You Make

Hey, remember that time Killian met Meg in some tunnels in the Underworld and introduced himself as “Captain Killian Jones” before he called himself “Captain Hook”? Because I do and, surprise, I’ve got some feelings about it! As always, I am still on my season five ‘ish, so here is about 4.2K of name-based feelings, some out of place flirting and some, surprise, Captain Cobra Swan that I didn’t plan on until I typed it. I hope you guys got all the carbs you wanted yesterday.

All credit always and forever to @shireness-says for constantly telling me to keep shoving words at the internet. Even before she reads said words. (I only listened to Arctic Monkeys and My Chemical Romance while writing this. Take from that what you will.)

----

The words are heavy on his tongue.

Still, as if they don’t belong there, or never really did and the feeling makes him ache. Although most of him aches at this point. Killian is sure his gashes have scrapes and those scrapes have bruises and gaping wounds that are likely far more metaphorical than he’s willing to admit. Staring out at the expanse of Main Street doesn’t particularly help. Hazy air hangs low over cracked asphalt, thin branches and dead leaves that only swirl slightly against the barely-there breeze coming from the Gods know where.

There’s no water here. No hint of salt-tinged air.

Occasionally there are some strikes of lightning, leaving the sky bright enough that Killian swears he can see for miles. He wishes he couldn’t. None of it looks right, feels even more wrong, and he supposes that’s to be expected in a place like this, but it also seems like another metaphor of sorts and maybe the torture hasn’t ceased yet.

Maybe it won’t.

He deserves that, he’s sure.

Darkness doesn’t scare him much anymore, at least the more literal variety — or so he will swear, but this is somehow even worse. Every flash of light that cracks across the sky dredges up memories of the kind of storms that threatened to capsize any of the ships he once called home, and he imagines it’s something about extremes.

Complete darkness can blind a man, but so can light. Stunning him, until he has to blink away the dots that hang in front of his eyes and the dots never entirely disappear.

He shouldn’t have told that lass his name.

Foolish, that’s what it was.

“I can hear you thinking from upstairs,” Emma murmurs, slumped against the side of the railing that should lead up to her room in her parent’s loft. Something similar exists in this place, of course. He can’t imagine the blankets on that bed are as soft as the ones he only barely remembers falling into, what now feels like several lifetimes ago and—

“Might be getting worse now, actually,” she adds, “surprised there isn’t steam coming out of your ears too. Y’know, just for good measure.”

Letting out a breath, he’s all too aware of how slumped his shoulders are when he turns. Emma lifts her eyebrows.

“The streets are already steaming,” Killian says, “anything else seems like overkill, doesn’t it?” “Stupid word.” “Aye, that it is. In poor taste.”

“What are you thinking about?” He tilts his head. Strands of hair fall towards his eyes, but Killian doesn’t make any effort to brush them away. “Did he fall asleep?” “Yeah,” Emma nods, eyes flitting back towards her room and the space she’d marched Henry into nearly fifteen minutes earlier. “About time, too. I think he was half a second away from falling asleep standing, could barely keep his eyes open anymore.” “Stubbornness is an inherited trait.” She clicks her tongue. “You think?” “Rather pointed.” “Nah, definitely round,” Emma objects, “in a circle-type way that could bring us back to my question and what you’re thinking about and—” “—Henry shouldn’t be here.” “No.” Jerking his head up the way he does only guarantees that several muscles in the back of his neck almost audibly object to the movement, Emma giving him a tight-lipped smile that isn’t exactly his, but is at least getting there, and that’s something almost vaguely positive.

Her hair is longer than Killian remembers it being.

He tried to remember that.

Before.

Wandering — stumbling, more like — around those caves, blood dripping down the side of his face, caking the same strands of hair that now threaten to actually poke him in the eye, and all he could think about was the exact shade of gold Emma’s hair turned in the moonlight. Preferably when she was also sitting in the harbor, feet hanging above the waves as they passed his flask between them. Or on the deck of his ship.

He didn’t allow himself that particular fantasy very often, though. Getting both felt distinctly like the kind of selfishness he’s now hoping to avoid.

“Stubborn,” Emma shrugs.

“Something about circles, love.” “And going in them, yeah. But I’m also legitimately worried about that pinch between your eyebrows, so seems like as good a time as any to fess.” “Fess?” “Confess,” she amends, “more slang.” Killian’s smile isn’t really that. Is more a grimace and twist of his lips, and yet the weight he’s only marginally worried has taken the place of his heart lightens ever so slightly. Nothing beats yet. He’s still dead. “I like that one, actually.” “When we get home I’ll make you a list.” “Of slang?” “Whatever you want.” Neither one of them move.

He’d like to move. Would love to, really. To cross this space and pull Emma flush against him until she grumbles about the inevitably uncomfortable nature of her perched on either one of his thighs and how his chin digs into her shoulder when he tries to breathe her in, but something about the overall tension in her jaw and the weight of those yet-to-be acknowledged words keeps Killian rooted to the spot.

Every one of those words came out quicker than the last, as if they were an admission Emma wasn’t entirely ready to make and he’s fairly certain the pinch between his eyebrows won’t ever disappear completely. He hopes she doesn’t cut her hair.

He hopes to get his fingers in that hair eventually.

“I mean—” Emma stammers, color rushing in her cheek. “Within—y’know, within...no, fuck that. Whatever you want. Lists of...I don’t know, movies and books and you’re a giant dweeb right? So you’ve got to like books.” “I do, in fact.” “Yeah, yeah, I figured. I just—do they have holidays in the Enchanted Forest? No Thanksgiving or Christmas, right?” Killian shakes his head. Gets the hair away from his eyes. And makes it easier to see the exact moment Emma starts wringing her fingers together. The railing is very likely digging into her shoulder now. “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she continues, “but uh...shit, what about birthdays? That’s a thing, right?” “Do you think I get two now?”

One side of his mouth tugs up. Despite any efforts otherwise and his own, rather intimate, knowledge of that edge Emma is quite obviously teetering on.

Killian’s been balancing there for the better part of the last few days. Ever since she appeared in front of him again, magic wrapping around him and making goosebumps prickle on his skin, a low heat that felt as if he’d been put on simmer without any threat of boiling because he’s not all that capable of boiling anymore, just festering and stewing and—

“I told that lass my name,” Killian says, voice hardly loud enough to qualify as any sort of sound. One of Emma’s knuckles crack. “The one in the caves, another one of Hades’ prisoners. I can’t—Gods, I can’t remember her name.” “Megara,” Emma whispers. “Yeah, I know.” He quirks an eyebrow, a sudden retreat back to flirting that’s not entirely honest. It’s very likely he’s something of a cad. And it’s easier that way. To slink back into the role, and the person he was and that person deserves everything he’s gotten and may still get.

Of course, he can’t keep it up for very long.

Not with Emma staring at him like that — far too appraising and understanding, and the whole thing fails rather quickly.

Completely. Immediately. A few other words that end in ‘ly,’ just to drive the point home. “Wow, you totally suck at that.” Laughter rumbles in the back of Killian’s throat before he can even begin to rationalize the sound, rubbing his fingers into the raw skin just above his brace. “Fraid you’ll have to be more specific, darling.” “Low blow.” “Endearments, or…” “It’s not going to work,” Emma objects, rolling her eyes when Killian’s mouth shifts in the very specific kind of smirk he knows has always worked. “You don’t just get to start playing pirate and think I’ll swoon enough to get distracted.”

“Suggests I’m still able to distract you.” “Like that would change.”

Heat ripples up his spine. Surprisingly, so. The flicker of normalcy catches Killian off guard, facade slipping for half a moment, and that’s far more time than Emma needs. His hair is greasy when he runs his fingers through it. “Are you something of a soothsayer then, Your Highness? Good at reading minds now?” “More circles, babe. Open books, and all that.” He hums. Can’t do much else, actually. Emotion claws at the center of him, threatens to take root in that stagnant heart of his, and maybe that will help, but it also feels like it could drown him if it had a mind to. The give and take of all this may very well drive him insane quicker than anything Hades could hope for. “How do you know that?” “Which part?” “About the girl,” Killian says, “did you find her?” Emma scrunches her nose. “Regina and I did. In the forest. There was blood and—” She shivers. Tries to hide it, but open book works both ways and he’s always been able to tell when she’s thinking too. Or being inherently stubborn. “I was...well, I wasn’t cool about it.” “Sounds suspiciously like a compliment.” “Ass.” Staying upright is becoming increasingly difficult. “I believe that’s been well-documented, m’dear. I’m sorry about that.” “My inability to insult you better?” “That you thought it was my blood.”

“Presumptuous,” Emma grumbles, although that sort of misses the insult mark as well and he’s genuinely not sure who moves first. Creaking joints give way to a groaning floor, a tangle of limbs and hands that almost immediately search for skin. If only to remind the other that they’re here and real and at least partially alive.

If Killian feels his pulse pick up, he’s sure he imagines it.

That’s not possible.

“And,’ he adds, Emma’s back against the nearest wall now. He has no idea how his head found her thigh. He’s not going to complain. She doesn’t when she inevitably notices how goddamn greasy his hair is. Fair is only fair, after all.

“And?” Eyes fluttering shut, Killian briefly worries for the state of his muscles. Which appear to be unspooling the longer Emma’s fingers move, tracing over his temple and the furrows of his forehead and it takes all the self control he’s only marginally in possession of not to wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her stomach and sob.

“And,” he repeats, “that you were ever uncool about any of this.” Her body shakes when she laughs — soft and disbelieving, which is another marker in the stubborn column, really. Killian doesn’t mention that. He closes his eyes. Breathes. Counts his inhales and takes his time on his exhales, only a little disappointed that the honeysuckle scent has disappeared from Emma’s hair.

“Can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “Half the reason I think we should make a slang list,” Emma says, “is so you can say more of it. Might be one of my favorite things.” “A slang puppet, huh? Here to entertain you.” “Why are you freaking out about telling Megara who—by the way, was not nearly as snarky as her Disney counterpart would have me believe.” “I’m sure being chased around by the three-headed beast of the Underworld will do that to a person.”

Emma’s thumb taps his jaw. Three times. Exactly. “Ah now I feel like an ass.” “Impossible,” Killian mumbles. Turning his head isn’t easy, but he doesn’t have to worry about the rest of his body when he’s splayed out across the floor like this and the muscles in Emma’s stomach noticeably contract when he noses at the hem of her shirt.

She squirms. Above him and below him, and there it is again. More metaphors. More dichotomy, or some other philosophical bullshit he’s not willing to think about now. When Emma’s breath noticeably hitches. As soon as Killian’s teeth graze her skin.

“Distracting—” Gasping, Emma’s nails drag across his scalp. Which isn’t as unpleasant as it probably should be. “Ah shit, I can’t think of—” “Scoundrel? Miscreant? Blackguard?” “What century is that last one from?” “Not nice at all, love,” Killian chides, but Emma just widens her eyes and perhaps they’re both dancing. Without any music. “Probably around the time the first King George ascended the throne.” “There was more than one King George?” “Several, if memory serves. You know those royals. Can’t concern themselves with naming creativity, have to honor the past and whatnot.” “Whatnot,” Emma echoes with a smile. “You want to tell me now? About Megara and how she knew your name.” “I told her, we’ve been over this already.” “Yeah, but—” The rest of the sentence disappears on Emma’s shrug, her lower lip twisted between her teeth. Nerves radiate off her, falling in waves Killian can almost see and nearly remind him of the real thing.

Time doesn’t mean much here. Days pass on loop, and exhaustion is a guarantee more than an occasional state of being. And yet, somehow — as the last few flickers of warmth continue to lap at the base of Killian’s spine, and Emma’s fingers return to their pattern through his hair, something almost like moonlight casts a welcome shadow across the floor. Stretching over Emma’s outstretched legs and bent ankles, it curls up her arm, lingering at her elbow before it drifts towards her hunched shoulders and the edge of Killian’s wrist and then—

It’s gone.

Disappearing as quickly as it arrived, Killian wonders if he imagined it. He didn’t. He knows, he didn’t. Just as easily as he knows it didn’t happen simply because of him.

He licks his lips once.

“I found her,” he starts, “or she found me, I suppose. Not easy to keep your direction underground.” Glancing up, Killian finds Emma’s eyes on him. Wide, they don’t quite demand an explanation, but they want one and he supposes wanting is half the battle. At least metaphorically. “No stars underground, you see.” “Real confident in your navigational abilities huh, Captain?” “Only if you’ll keep saying that.”

She can’t be comfortable when she bends. Twists towards him, and kisses the top of his absolutely disgusting hair.

There’s a shower upstairs. In the right version of it. He’s not sure what’s here. He can’t bring himself to go up there.

An absolute coward.

“Anyway,” Killian continues, “there was a three-headed monster, this lass, and I—we weren’t both going to get out.” “You let her go, though. Told her to go.” He nods. Talking is something of a challenge once more. “As if you’d ever do anything else,” Emma mumbles, a note of pride in her voice that makes every one of Killian’s internal organs clench. That’s all they can do, really. None of them are working all that great, after all.

“That’s not true.” Tensing, Emma’s fingers still. “That wasn’t really you.” “Ah, that’s not totally true, either. It was at least partially me, all those deep-rooted desires given free reign. But I wanted...she was so scared, Swan.” He doesn’t bother mentioning the rest. Being more specific seems pointless, especially when Emma’s fingers stay exactly where they are. And she knows, anyway. He was terrified. Of what he’d lost and what he’d done and what he’d still be willing to do, if it meant she got out of here.

Safe.

He wants them all safe.

“I told her to find you,” he rasps. “That—I knew you were here, could...feel it, almost. No matter where I was or—” This may be their least organized conversation. Full of tiptoeing and heavy words, unspoken meaning that neither one of them is entirely ready to give credence to yet. “Gave her my name, my—my real name.”

Hair brushes the top of his head, softer than it has any right to be and several things in Killian’s chest threaten to combust. “I was doing a lot of yelling of your name in that bloody forest.” “Joke, or…” “Fresh out of jokes, I think.” He noses at her jeans, not sure if he’s desperate to touch her or the opposite. Desperate to brand himself there, so she’ll remember. No matter what else happens. “I didn’t even think about it,” he admits, “just—I told her to find you, said I was Captain Killian Jones, like that was something I could say, and that you needed to know I was here.” Emma’s silent for a moment.

Another. Two moments. That become three and four and then Killian’s counting his inhales again and doing his best not to stare too intently at her. She kisses his hair again. Luke she can’t help herself.

“Had to use the title, didn’t you?” Killian exhales. “Haven’t in quite some time.” “Did you think I wouldn’t have known it was you?” Emma teases, so the joke-thing was something of a lie. A nice one as far as misplaced lies go. Making another noise, he finally burrows closer to her until it’s closer to snuggling and clinging and another round of goosebumps explode on his skin when her hand flattens against his back. “Or,” she says, “was it something else?” “Several somethings, maybe.” “Wanna ballpark for me?” “Not sure I understand that one, actually.” “I don’t need all the somethings, but a few would be good right now. We can get to the rest of them later.”

Those words don’t necessarily fall on top of him. They’re as heavy as the rest, all that meaning and the possibility for a future that seems as distant and impossible as the past or the overall softness of the bedding upstairs. So, while gravity does its best to pull the words down on top of Killian, there’s an ease to them that makes it feel as if they’re simply resting across his back, a reminder that helps keep him pressed to this plane and this place and Emma’s left thigh.

Which is one of his favorite places to be, quite frankly.

Usually without the jeans in the way, but dead beggars can’t be choosers.

“I don’t know why I did that. The name, I—” “Liar, liar.” “Would you like to talk about pants, Swan? Because I have my fair share of thoughts regarding the ones you were wearing in Storybrooke.” “I didn’t pick that outfit.” “Rather good happenstance, then.” “Is deflection a required pirate characteristic?” she asks. “Distract your enemy with half-hearted compliments and—” “—Oh no, those are full-hearted, I guarantee.” “If nothing else, I did look stupid good in those pants.” “Hair left something to be desired, but the pants fit like a glove.” Her smile almost reaches her eyes. Obvious when light filters through the gauzy curtains, once more. “Flirt.” “Only with you.” Emma’s eyes widen. Not in surprise. Closer to frustration. A hint of impatience. The stubborn sort of determination that requires an answer. “And, I—I wanted it.” “Wanted what?” “To be that. Again, I suppose. After everything. All that I’d done, and how much I’d hurt you, I—”

“—You didn’t…” “Swan, let’s be honest that’s the worst lie either one of us has told.” “Ever?” “If not longer.” Huffing out a laugh, she slides further down the wall, a move that can’t feel good on her spine, but does ensure that she’s closer to Killian and he’s still enough of a pirate to want exactly that. “But I—a very long time ago, Captain Killian Jones believed in something. Wanted something, and thought he could get it. Even if some of it was distinctly lawless.” “Probably a requirement for your line of work.” “Ah, well that king deserved all the insults you could come up with. Stealing from him, destroying everything he’d built. That felt like justice, somehow.” “Should I mention the circular nature of time again or is that redundant?” “Unnecessary,” Killian agrees, his mouth inching further up Emma’s ribcage. The noise she lets out is closer to a giggle than he’s capable of dealing with. In a place that’s always tinged vaguely red. “I suppose part of me wanted to return to that. To the ideals, maybe not the laws or the uniforms, but certainly not the…” He swallows. “Villain. Evil. Wrong.” “I never thought you were wrong,” Emma says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear. Over the ringing in Killian’s ears. And whatever rushes off her. Magic, of course. Responding to emotion and its innate desire to meet him halfway.

Gods, but he loves her more than he ever believed he could.

“I know that,” Killian promises, “even when I didn’t want to. Especially then.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time.” Tightening his arms isn’t easy when there’s this blasted wall in the way. Killian tries all the same. Emma doesn’t tell him to stop. “You were Captain Hook,” she adds, “when we found you. Buried under all those bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Eventually that’s really all that was left.” “I can make some more snide comments on pants, if you want. What’s the flammability of leather?” “I have no idea, honestly.” She smiles. He doesn’t check. Knows, can feel it in the very center of soul. “Ah, well, they can probably catch fire. Regina’s going to teach me how to do those ball things, anyway.” “Absolutely menacing, Your Highness.” “Don’t you forget it.”

The room is getting brighter.

Or Killian’s finally fallen off that edge. Either one seems entirely reasonable and maybe even a little enjoyable and he’s not sure when, exactly, he decides to start talking again. Only that the words arrive without much thought and even more feeling and Emma’s eyes don’t leave him.

“It was a mask. A reason for everything else, an excuse that I’d rationalized so I could fall asleep. Captain Hook was a product of his own misfortune, all those unfair hands he’d been dealt. The loss, the anger, the fury that grew every single time metal found skin. Being that, being him, allowed me to drift further and further into that darkness.” “But?” “But,” Killian repeats. “You found me under a pile of bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Oh, that’s kind of nice.” “It kind of was. After you got rid of the blade at my neck.” She flicks his chest. The knot of their limbs is another kind of miracle. “And then everything else that happened. Beanstalks, and Cora, and magic beans and—” “—You came back,” Emma cuts in. “Seems you’ve returned the favor several times over, love.” “That’s how it’s supposed to work, I think.” Maybe he’ll marry her.

The thought strikes him as suddenly as the lightning that flashes outside, a spark that’s eerily similar to the flames Emma was just talking about and there are far too many metaphors bouncing around his skull. He might just have a headache.

And yet the thought doesn’t disappear. Not immediately. No, it settles. Threatens to grow at the forefront of his brain, where the institution of marriage has never been given much consideration. Until now. With his left shoulder close to popping out of his socket, and Emma’s fingers in his hair and her back contorted while half a dozen bruises on his legs refuse to heal.

“I love you,” Killian says, unable to do anything else. Except propose, apparently. He should be alive for that.

And sitting up.

He can’t bring himself to sit up.

Only pull himself closer to Emma, until it’s obvious how much he wants and possibly needs and something about a circle. Coming back. Over and over.

“I know. Which is—” “—Good?” “Better,” Emma says. “I love you, too. Just you, you know that right?” Nodding leads to jeans scratching at his cheeks, but these pants fit fairly well too and both of them flinch at the noticeable creak coming down the stairs. Tufts of Henry’s hair stick up in every direction.

“You ok?” Emma asks her son, only to get a teenage-type shrug and genetically inherited head tilt.

Killian narrows his eyes. “What’s the matter, my boy?” The head tilt reaches an angle unaccomplished by anyone over the age of twenty-five. Killian isn’t even sure he could attempt such an angle. But it doesn’t seem to bother Henry and neither he nor Emma point out the use of those particular words in that particular order. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mutters, already stumbling forward. Falling is likely far too generous a descriptor for whatever Henry does next, another mess of limbs that adds to Killian and Emma’s knot, and there are a few more grunts than there should be.

From all of them.

Until they find something resembling comfort, Killian’s head still on Emma’s thigh and her legs stretched out so Henry can take advantage of her right one and— “Probably should have found a pillow,” Killian mutters, hoping it sounds like the apology he wants it to be. It’s not enough. Nothing ever could be, really. And he’s not all that surprised by Emma’s head shake, the way it makes her hair sway and brighten under the bit of light they’ve probably created just now and she winces when Henry’s chin digs into her knee. He starts snoring five seconds later. “I’m fine,” Emma says, and it’s impossible to argue with her. Even in this impossible place. “You’re comfortable like this.”

His heart thumps.

With wishful thinking or more misplaced hope, but it’s there all the same and he kisses exactly where his lips land.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #laura writes canon #CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP WRITING SEASON FIVE ANGST #i saw some gifs of this moment last night and my brain was like: alright go #also: if the timeline of this doesn't make sense #don't tell me #i kind of looked at some episode synopsis and then decided i absolutely did not care #and if you can't see main street from mary margaret's loft then that's just too bad

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white-poppie · 2 years

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May I have a haikyuu and mha match-up please

Hi my name is rex, i’m queer and use they/them pronouns and i’m 15. And i would prefer someone not over the age of 18 plz.

have like a caramel colored skin-tone and im 5’3 (short king). Rn i have a purple-pink short mullet and i have pretty curly hair(the ethnic popped off hehe), im pretty chubby but i have an hourglass shape, im pretty busty(im a fuckin k cup bro😭) and thicc thighs(thicc thighs save lives, sorry i’ll stop). I dress pretty alternative but i cant just choose one subculture tho, i wear a lot of heavy eye makeup. I could say i dress kinda “showy” but thats kinda what only fits me, but also who gives a fuck.

Im a libra sun, scropio moon, and gemini rising. This means that im a pretty social person and always wanna hang out with friends and just have fun, but moon in scropio makes my emotions rlly haywire and kinda boosts any sorta negative emotion, which is hard when you have chronic anxiety and major depressive disorder. Which also means i take medication for it, which i forget a lot. And because of these things i have anxiety tics, where it ranges to making noices and twitching a bit to full on hitting myself and saying random shit. But I really like making people laugh, it makes me feel helpful, but im also good at being to mother figure for people. I also like playfully bantering with people, like i love you but will full on roast you and get into fake fist-fights. I am a bit of a violent person at times but I have a punching bag and boxing gloves which help a lot. But I only get that angry when someone uses an insecurity of mine against me or is talking bad about someone i love, cause it you do that im beating your ass. I do have a bit of body insecurities mainly about my hip-dips and stomach. But because im curvy i get hit on by adults a lot and its creepy as fuck.

My hobbies include art (painting, drawing), sleeping (because i stay up mad late😭✌🏽), reading comics, Marvel and D.C superheroes, and super villains, cartoons, and anime/manga.

My favorite music genre’s are rock, alternative, emo, rap, and a little bit if indie music.

Personality: funny, sarcastic, creative, kind, inappropriate and the right times. Like im not gonna pull out a dick joke in front of your family

Hi, amazing person! First, let me tell you, you are beautiful just the way you are. Ignore the bad things and keep on moving forward. Second anxiety and depression are not something to be ashamed of or feel bad for, these are things that naturally go away with time just like scars heal, saying from experience <3

(I am glad you won't pull out a d joke in front of my family)

MHA

Pairing: Denki Kaminari

The very first thought I had after reading your description was: "omg a Denki Kinnie."

Ways I think Denki is similar/ matches with you:

Denki is a friendly, social, and energetic boy who likes to hang out with people. Denki is somewhat flirtatious and is also a bit of a jokester and likes to tease others with playful comments.

Denki has an interest in appearing cool and trendy in order to impress people.

He does not appear to pay much attention in classes and suffers anxiety attacks when dealing with tests, at which point he becomes increasingly agitated and aggressive.

Despite this, Denki can show surprising knowledge about certain areas such as literature, art, and music and possess a large vocabulary.

He will never judge you for who you are and how you look and you two will overcome any stigma together.

Overall recommendation: 9/10

HAIKYUU

Pairing: Nishinoya Yuu

Nishinoya is a very energetic and temperamental person. Although he hardly ever worries about the consequences of his actions, he is considerate of his friends' feelings and insecurities.

He is the best match for you in HQ cause:

He is quirky, spontaneous, laid back, yet serious at the right time.

Nishinoya can be extremely impatient, excitable and impulsive.

He had many fears, which he could overcome by his grandpa teaching and telling him to never be afraid to ask for help whenever the fear doesn't fade.

He doesn't bother to filter his words and is therefore prone to blurting out whatever he's thinking in a loud and tactless manner.

He thinks that curvy people are pretty and would practically worship you.

Overall recommendation: 8.5/10

Thank you for requesting this, I am trying to answer as many as possible, I apologize for the delay, hope you like it :)

100 Followers pairing event (Open)

#white poppie🌼#match up event #match up requests #match ups #anon #pairing event #hq matchups #hq pairing #mha matchups #mha #denki #nishinoya

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lady-plantagenet · 3 years

Text

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 3: GOOD Grief! (we finally have a good episode on our hands)

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

Drawing of Thomas More’s Son AKA who Margaret Pole at this point wants to be the step baby momma of ;).

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes:

LMAO the way Wolsey suggests they break their alliance with Spain is freaking hilarious because the actor delivers the lines as if he were a high school girl making a personal attack by suggesting the prom change its theme to 70s disco to the chagrin of the peppy up-and-coming rival.

Also @ Henry VIII looking like the peppy up-and-comer’s bff and shy stan with that pencil bite and small smirk when Catherine loses her cool against Wolsey.

I’m sorry... who is Henry married to again?

Also what is Margaret Pole doing at the council meeting?? I’m not saying I don’t like it.

Margaret Pole warning against certain repetitive thinking creating madness :(((

Attempted Naked Twister:

Oh Catherine, what is with you and all the other STARZ protagonists and that weird politcky bedroom talk? Who actually finds this sexy?

‘Catherine you are unnatural’ ooof that line delivery was somehow haunting.

Was the whole ‘I can’t be rushed you are off-putting with your overpowering’ a callback to Arthur and Catherine? Apparently there’s another writer for this episode so I won’t put all subtly past them.

Scotland:

‘Shitey men’ asdkjashd

Look I’m tired of all this ‘my children won’t be safe’ line getting repeated. Look mate, murder of royal infants and children was not exactly a common occurence, even in cases of deposition. The Princes in the Tower are an exception to this but a very infamous case for that reason. Child murder was extremely taboo. In situations like this with an infant kid, no one is going to bother murdering the babies and taking their thrones, the lords will just vie for power and make themselves de facto rulers and oust the queen. It’s not a question of safety but a question of holding power. Stop giving all women characters perma mummy brains.

Maggie being all caring:

‘Barnaby’ *scoffs* ‘Such an English name’ - OH MAN 0_0 is Catherine mocking them for trying to adapt ? Like I know it’s meant to show her envy for Lina, but it’s coming out all messed up.

Our girl Maggie’s smile screams I’m beating your ass in chess.

Anyhow this is the least histrionic we’ve seen Catherine so far.

Chaplain vs Catherine:

I’m interested how Catherine will feel at Stafford’s execution given that I have noticed this show build up to a friendship between them.

Why is everyone laughing at the whole ‘will you delight us with new schemes’ line was not that funny?

LMAO at Thomas Boleyn’s attempted brown-nosing.

You know what? Ruairi is a decent actor. When he says ‘so you admit it? you lost the child because you tried to be a man?” the actor conveys Henry’s troubled mind, lowkey scare towards Catherine and bewilderment all in one. The way his eyes do not move but just widen emotionlessly also gives this sense that he is being manipulated (which I guess they are going for with Wolsey). Then the whole choir music in the background.. I don’t know.. I’m liking this, it’s creating a vibe of a king of haunted and increasingly paranoid Henry. I’m sure they are going for that, so good.

Ursula Pole and Mama:

Maggie Pole say ‘riches don’t keep you safe’ with tears in her eyes :’(. Please tell me how this is not her thinking on her parents and granddad Warwick and what befell them ;’(.

I find Ursula refreshing actually, don’t get those types of heroines often. But they are making her similar to a gold-digger, an exhalted marriage was first and foremost considered a thing of honour. Noblepeople wouldn’t speak in such mercenary terms regarding their marriages.

Post Mary Defiance:

I love the ‘horse’ nickname from Brandon n’awwww

Also just realised what made TWQ so atmospheric - that wierd ‘oooo’ sound effect in the background when a character was being paranoid or worrying. They are using it during Henry’s ‘How is it that I have no sons?’ and it is just... so effective.

Catherine calling them ordinary children... she just keeps striking me as more and more classist. Like ok, I know every royal was... but still, I thought she was meant to see Lina as a friend and equal despite her race and status. To add the race element, this kind of rubs me the wrong way.

Also it is so clear by the end when Catherine states how the king is upset with her, she expects Maggie to ask her about it.. but she doesn’t lmao.

Back to Scotland until Sexy boy fencing:

I love me this soft boi. Angus <3 <3

I like how they address that some men don’t really like killing and that violence isn’t inherent in a man’s nature.

Oh man, are we supposed to look at Lina’s house and deplore the impoverished conditions? It would go for at least 3,000,000 pounds in today’s property market?

Is Catherine being particularly classist again with ‘Why u not becoming a butcher Wolsey, ey?’.

Though I will admit the ‘but giving meat to the poor is also good’ was one of her only smart comebacks.

Just realised, Catherine’s pink dress pretty as it is, looks straight out of the 1570s... why?

Montage and After:

You guys are right, there is this weird longing between Henry and Wolsey lmao. It is actually insane.

So basically Catherine is officially depressed

OOOFF we have Stafford as regent instead of Catherine. (edit: I suppose it’s cause they go to France which they didn’t historically? Also if Stafford is at home then what is his son later doing in France, why would he be there without his father. This show didn’t think this through)

Meg Singing:

An impassionate speech is not too anachronistic. But despite the title of this post (what hasn’t been said) I will reiterate that 16th century and Medieval people’s problem wasn’t that they were ashamed of their grief and didn’t cry. In fact, crying was somewhat more socially acceptable then than it even is now! Even manly men like Arthur were written as crying in literature such as Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Obviously you couldn’t go overboard, but in truth crying was indeed often too performative rather than hidden too much behind doors.

Pole and More UWUWU in France and after:

I LIKE THIS INTELLECTUAL FLIRTING

It’s nice to see a depiction of romantic feelings between mature and level-headed subjects.

God Mary Tudor is so beautiful in this scene jesus. and the music when she was being presented was also very beautiful.

Maggie Pole getting given ‘a modest income’ yeah... she was one of the wealthiest peers of her day.

Also Maggie’s lady cousin not lady aunt Frost!

‘shaking of the sheets’ lmaoooo

William Compton cracks the hell out of me. I love this guy. He is just so creepy and twisted yet super keen and friendly. ahaha He looks like a riot, I hope we see him more. lmao tiles.

Also this palace feels very anachronistic almost 18th century-ish.

I like the Louis and Mary sequence, it’s nice seeing him trying to make her feel less scared, but OMFG when he lay on that chair.. for one second I thought they were trying to kill him off already.

Scotland: ‘Love is an open doooooorrrrr’ + Last Scene:

I ship Meg and Douglas ahhhh this soft boi x strong woman match is everything Henry and Catherine could have been.

I wonder... why is Lina speaking in Spanish more than Catherine. hmmm Are they trying to foreshadow Lina’s eventual return home and how Catherine become a true englishwoman?

Conclusion:

7.5/10

I cannot in all fairness believe it. This was actually decent. I’ve given up on historical accuracy long ago so by this point I’m focusing more on how it stands as as drama. I mean, TWQ was also a flop when it came to grasping the complex issues of that era but why do I feel compelled to rewatch it every year? Because it had atmosphere when it came to acting, music, certain aesthetics (though the costumes let me down often). It felt adequately gothic and dark, yet bright and jewel-lish when it had to be, sometimes both at the same time. Some one-liners were also memorable etc...

So far TSP 2 did not have any of this. Everything felt way too off and anachronistic. But not even consistently anachronistic. The music was also often very meh (though I just noted the absence of the spanish stringy theme that kept playing in season 1 - I guess I understand why), the dialogue very clichéd (‘alright lads let’s throw in the words: king, crown, power, fight, battle + other buzzwords and we have ourselves Shakespeare’) and so on... but I saw a change in this episode and I couldn’t initially point out what it was.

Upon rewatch, I identified some of the improvements (noted above) but above all: The producer was different! Boy does it show. Unfortunately, I think she is only for this one episode which really sucks. Come back! There is more chemistry between the couples, less predictable interactions, pervy Compton, cinnamonroll Douglas, better music, more scenic shots (e.g Douglas and Margaret in church) e.t.c. I hope it will match the rest of the STARZ productions in getting better towards the end.

Look it’s no masterpiece. But I’ll give credit where it’s due because at least this time it didn’t leave me feeling wanting and unsatisfied (if that makes sense).

#the spanish princess #the spanish princess 2 #lady plantagenet's series reviews #catherine of aragon #henry viii #mary tudor queen of france #margaret tudor #charles brandon #margaret pole

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thollandthot · 5 years

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three’s company ; tom holland x harrison osterfield

A/N: ta daaa !! here is my long awaited threesome one shot !! this is probably the longest one shot i have ever written so i hope you enjoy it !! WORD COUNT: ~5.5K lol PAIRING: college au frat boy!tom holland x frat boy!harrison osterfield x female reader. WARNINGS: possibly the most nsfw thing imaginable. threesome/polyamory, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, underaged drinking kinda.

CLICK HERE TO READ PART ONE. CLICK HERE TO READ PART TWO. CLICK HERE TO READ PART THREE. CLICK HERE TO READ PART THREE AND A HALF. CLICK HERE TO READ PART FOUR.

three’s company

Quite a bit of your college experience had, for a lack of a better term, sucked. You took classes you didn’t care about that were taught by professors who didn’t care about you, and gave homework you never understood. You tried to remain a good student, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as the semester progressed.

However, there was one class you were always excited to attend. Your 11:15 Philosophy course. It was your last class of the day, and always put a smile on your face. Not because you enjoyed what you were being taught, nor the professor who taught it, but because of the two incredibly attractive British exchange students that sat in front of you.

You’d been fortunate enough to get paired with the two of them for a project at the beginning of the semester. You had to do a presentation about Socrates together, which wasn’t extremely difficult, but once you looked around the lecture hall and noticed many of your classmates practically drooling over the two boys who were assisting you on your project, you knew you weren’t the only one competing for their affections.

Luckily for you, you had a slight advantage over everyone else in your lecture. You had developed a friendship with both of them. Meeting with them twice a week for almost a month to work on a project did have its perks, but that did nothing to lessen the crush you had on the two. They were genuinely nice guys. They kept their room clean, they were funny, they were polite, and the more you saw them interact with each other, the more you began to like them.

But you knew you had to shove those feelings down. You knew both of them were incredibly out of your league, and although they both said they didn’t have girlfriends, you could tell that they both had a pretty high body count. But that didn’t deter you. Hell, if you looked like either of them, you would have a high body count, too.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” You snickered as you plopped into your unassigned assigned seat behind the two Brits a few minutes before your lecture began. The two swiveled around in their chairs to face you upon hearing your voice.

“Y/N.” The blonde greeted with a nod and a playful grin. That one was Harrison. He was taller than his roommate, and a little bit paler. He frequently wore a confident smile, which definitely factored into the crush you had on him. He had piercing blue eyes that always helped him get what he wanted out of you, whether it be answers to homework, a story about a boy, sex, you’d give it to him if he gave you one look. It was a problem.

“You free Friday night?” His brunet companion raised a brow at you. That one was Tom. Although he was shorter than Harrison, he was definitely leaner. You often found yourself staring at the way his t-shirts would strain around his shoulders and biceps, and when he’d move his arms up to stretch on occasion you found it difficult not to salivate. You also noticed that he often messed around with his chocolate brown curls during class, and it never failed to make you think about what it might feel like if you were the one running your fingers through that gorgeous head of hair. His brown eyes were soft, but his smirks were teasing, giving you the impression that he would never do anything to hurt you, but that he also wouldn’t hesitate to fuck you into oblivion.

You were too caught up in your own thoughts to realize Tom had asked you a question, and it took you a bit longer than it should have to respond. “Come on, Tom, you know Friday is bingo night. I’m trying to win big at the nursing home.” You joked, causing Harrison to stifle a laugh as his friend glared at him.

“You should blow that off and come hang out with us instead. PIKE is having a party.” Tom continued. PIKE, as in the fraternity. Of course they were in a fraternity. And it wasn’t just any fraternity. It was the fraternity that was rumored to host the wildest parties on campus. You heard tales since your freshman year about girls leaving without their shirts after the cops were called, a kiddie pool filled with jungle juice, the list went on. You never had the pleasure of going to a PIKE party, because they were always very exclusive.

You mulled over the invitation, tapping your chin as if you were deep in thought. “Huh, Idunno, boys. I might have to check my calendar.” Of course, you already had an answer. You would have been stupid to pass up an opportunity to hang out with two of the most attractive men you had ever laid eyes on and experience a wild frat party for the first time. It wasn’t as if you had anything better to do, anyway. Regardless, you played it cool. “Will there be alcohol involved?”

Your question caused Harrison to laugh, which was followed up by a playful smirk. “A little bit, yeah.” And as if you weren’t already sold on going to this party, that really sealed the deal. You knew you could use a break from all your studying, and a good drink would definitely help you loosen up.

“Can I bring a friend?” That was your next question. You were far too introverted to go to a party alone, even if you knew two of the fraternity brothers. Not to mention, your roommate would probably kill you if she knew you went to a PIKE party without her.

Tom glanced at Harrison, as if silently asking for his approval. The blond kept that playful grin on his lips, making it difficult for you to not melt into a puddle. “Yeah. Just make sure it’s not a guy, yeah? We want you to ourselves.”

You weren’t too sure what to make of that last bit, actually. You couldn’t decipher whether or not Harrison was just partaking in playful banter or genuinely flirting with you. Regardless, the words made your cheeks heat up. “Then perhaps I’ll stop by.” You gave the two of them a wink, and as if on cue, your professor entered the lecture hall, which caused the pair in front of you to face forward in their seats, ready to start today’s lesson.

——

Friday came upon you quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it was almost 10 p.m. and you were frantically searching for what to wear to see the two boys. They never gave you a dress code, so you were going in completely blind. You figured, because it was a frat party, you’d wear something a bit more suited for the occasion than your normal t-shirts and skinny jeans. Which was why you enlisted the help of your roommate to select the outfit you had decided on; a maroon velvet camisole that was tight around your chest, your trusty pair of distressed black skinny jeans, and a pair of black wedge heels. You wouldn’t be caught dead wearing stilettos to a frat party, but you couldn’t deny how the wedges your roommate suggested made your legs look longer and accentuated your ass in your skin tight jeans.

After your brief walk across campus, the faint sound of a pounding bassline grew nearer, the beat of some dance remix to a popular song ringing in your ears. You and your roommate immediately went your separate ways upon entering the frat house, reminding each other to text or call if or when you left. You were ready to attempt to find the kitchen in hopes to get a drink until you heard your name being called.

“Y/N!” It was in a British accent you knew could only belong to one of two people. Turning in the direction of the voice, you were soon face to face with the two boys from your Philosophy class.

Tom was the first to greet you, looking more relaxed as he gave you a hug with his free arm. His change in demeanor was almost definitely due in part to the half empty solo cup of beer in his other hand. Harrison gave you a squeeze next, wrapping both arms around you before pulling away and giving you a quick once over. He let out a low whistle and then a chuckle.

“Damn, who knew you were hiding a body like this under all those band t-shirts.” His comment caused you to flush, but it probably wasn’t noticeable under the dim lighting. Harrison took your hand in his before lifting your arm up, giving you an expectant look. “Give is a spin, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, but obliged, nevertheless, allowing Harrison to turn you around and let the two best friends see your outfit from every angle. Harrison whistled once more. “She looks good,” his attention went from you to his best friend for a moment, raising his brows at Tom and asking for his approval. “Doesn’t she, mate?”

It wasn’t until then that you noticed just how close the three of you were. Your fingers were still laced with Harrison’s and you heard Tom hum in agreement, even over the loud house music, before he proceeded to rest his free hand on the small of your back. He leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear, “You look sensational, darling.”

That made your heart skip a beat. Even the smallest of touches from Tom sent a shiver down your spine, and the pet name he called you made a surge of want course through your veins. It was suddenly incredibly hot, and you leaned forward to speak to both of them, hoping to dissolve the tension between the three of you.

“So are you two just gonna stare at me all night, or are you gonna come with me to get a drink?”

They didn’t argue, and for most of the night, the three of you sat on a couch in the living room, you nursing the same vodka soda the entire time. You were sat between the two roommates, Harrison’s arm resting across the back of the couch behind you, Tom’s hand on your thigh as his thumb absentmindedly drew circles on your skin through your jeans. You talked about a lot of things, but mostly classes and homework. You attempted to avoid talking about your shared Philosophy course, not wanting to kill the mood.

The three of you weren’t drunk, but you had enough to drink for your body to feel warm and for your judgement to be slightly clouded. Which was why you didn’t think twice before you asked, “So can i see your room?”

The two roommates looked at each other, a gleam in their eyes that you couldn’t quite recognize, before each of them took one of your hands, helping to pull you up off the couch and leading you upstairs. The three of you maneuvered through the bodies of drunken and sweaty college students, Tom and Harrison clearly having done so more than you ever had. They led you down the corridor, less people occupying it the further down the hall you went. You didn’t fail to notice how Harrison kept his hand in yours and Tom rested a hand on the small of your back as they guided you, but you weren’t going to comment on it. Not then, at least. Pushing through a door towards the end of the hallway, you were met with a relatively quiet room, the noise of the party becoming quieter once the door shut behind you. You took a moment to take in your surroundings; the two beds on opposite ends of the room, the UK flag on one of the bare walls, and a simple rug covering the expanse of the tiled floor. There were things tucked underneath their beds, and a few photos on their respective desks, but for the most part, there wasn’t much to be seen.

You cautiously took a seat on one of their beds and you patted both spaces next to you, suggesting they join you in the same position they had on the couch downstairs. Of course, the two were happy to oblige, seemingly identical cheeky grins spread across their faces. They easily fell back into the same dynamic, with Tom’s hand resting on your thigh and Harrison’s arm draped around you. The air felt a lot thicker now, with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. There was a deafening silence as you looked between the two Brits, trying to read their expressions that darted between you and each other. You couldn’t read either of them, and it was driving you crazy.

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you guys, like, fighting over me or something?” It was probably stupid to ask, knowing they only thought of you as a friend, but the alcohol in your system really helped to get rid of the worry that the two of them would reject you. And in light of that, you decided to dig your grave a little bit deeper. “Because I’m gonna be honest, I’m super attracted to both of you.”

That seemed to pique their interest. It caused Harrison to smirk and Tom to chuckle, squeezing your thigh. “We’ve been best friends for years. We don’t fight over girls, love.”

Your head dropped, mentally slapping yourself. You should’ve known Tom and Harrison were out of your league. In fact, you did know it, but you assumed that when they spent all their time with you tonight, you thought that because of their body language, maybe you had a chance. You clearly had misinterpreted all of it, and you wanted to curl yourself into a ball and never come out.

It was then that Harrison cleared his throat, causing you to look up. “What this div meant to say was that -- we both are attracted to you.” The blond clarified, causing you to snap your head to the right to look at his brunet friend, hoping he’d confirm the sentiment was true. Tom nodded in reply.

“Extremely.” He admitted, hand that was on your thigh now stroking back and forth. And you suddenly realized that the looks they were giving each other, both in class the other day and throughout the night, were looks of knowing. And maybe even lust.

You weren’t exactly sure of what to say, your mouth hung there as if words were going to come out but they didn’t. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d have a chance with even one of the attractive foreign exchange students from your Philosophy class, and now here you had a chance with either of them. With both of them.

“We’ve gotten, em, quite good at sharing.” Tom prompted after there was no reply other than a long pause and an slacked jaw from you. The sentence caused your brows to furrow, now slightly confused. Originally, you thought you were just supposed to pick one of them, which was an extremely difficult choice, by the way. Those words made you think differently.

Attempting to process what Tom had just said, you blinked a few times, gaze fixed in your lap, before speaking again. “You mean, like, you have threesomes together?”

Alright, that probably wasn’t the best way you could’ve phrased it, but that was what he had meant right? What else could sharing possibly mean? Clearly, neither of the boys expected you to say that word so bluntly, them both shifting slightly in their spots on the bed before Harrison finally spoke.

“It’s not something we’ve done before, but something we’ve talked about.” Harrison gave you that serious gaze with those gorgeous ocean blue eyes that would’ve gotten you to do anything. Perhaps even have a threesome with him and his best friend. “We thought that you’d be a good candidate.”

The words made your heart stop in your chest, your gaze flickering between the two boys beside you. The two most attractive boys you had ever seen in your life wanted to have a threesome with you. Who were you to pass on that opportunity? “I’ve, uh, never done anything like that before.” You muttered, embarrassed beyond belief.

And admittedly, Tom and Harrison had never done anything like that before, either. But they weren’t sure if you were saying yes or no, and there was an unspoken pact between them in that moment that they’d try to make you feel as comfortable as possible, if you chose to partake.

So they didn’t say anything. Instead, the two opted to make things the least awkward they could possibly be. “We don’t have to, love.” Tom squeezed your knee gently, and the action combined with the pet name caused you to inhale sharply.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” The declaration was quiet, but caused both boys to look at you intently, as if you were going to say something else. Maybe a ‘but I can’t’, or something along those lines. But you did want to. Oh god, did you want to. “I just wanted to give you the heads up.” Your gaze rose from your lap to glance between the two of them, and the three of you waited with bated breath for someone to make the first move.

That someone ended up being Harrison, bringing your chin closer to his face with his thumb and index finger, his lips meeting yours tenderly. You weren’t too sure of what to do about Tom, but your thoughts subsided when he started kissing your neck, which caused you to gasp into Harrison’s mouth.

After coming to terms with the fact that this was actually happening, you unlaced your fingers, giving each of them attention with one of your hands in order to palm them both through their jeans. You ran your fingers up and down their thighs until you found exactly what you were looking for, and the two both groaned against your skin in sync when you felt their hardening length beneath your touch.

The bed was small, especially since it was a twin sized mattress, courtesy of your university, but perhaps it was better this way. Having both Tom and Harrison impossibly close to you certainly wasn’t something you minded, and that was only proven as Tom shifted off the bed for a moment, allowing his roommate to lay you down across the sheets. You were quick to sit up for a moment, only giving yourself enough time to pull your shirt up and over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor. That gave the two initiative to keep going further, and cued Tom to remove his own shirt as well before leaning on his side and capturing your lips in a kiss.

You took the time to memorize the details about how different they were when it came to kissing. Tom was definitely more handsy, his one arm tugging you closer to his body by your bare waist, but Harrison had fuller lips. You were so caught up in your mental comparison between the two that you hadn’t noticed that Tom’s hand roaming lower until he gave your ass a squeeze, which caused you to gasp into his mouth. He smirked against your lips, the same hand now moving forward to rub you through the seam of your jeans.

“You can take them off.” You pulled away from Tom to mumble the words, chest heaving even though the three of you hadn’t gone further than second base yet. But you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you hadn’t wanted this. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this, too. Which was one of the many reasons why you were so anxious to get this show on the road. “Please…” you pleaded, and although it sounded pathetic to you, it was music to their ears, and it made the brunet turn to his blond friend with a wink.

“Well, you heard her.” Tom grinned at Harrison, and Haz was quick to unbutton and unzip your skinny jeans, helping you slip them off your legs as Tom’s lips went back to yours. A whimper left your mouth as Harrison rubbed you through your panties, and he shimmied to the end of the bed so he could see the wet spot forming on the fabric.

Harrison tutted softly. “She’s fucking soaking, mate.” He grunted, words directed at Tom as if you weren’t even in the room. And it was hot. You found yourself thinking about if they talked about you when they were alone. Whether it was like this or platonically, you didn’t really care at the moment, but something told you it would’ve been the former.

“Really?” Tom grinned, turning his head to watch his roommate’s expression. It was then that Harrison pushed your panties to the side with his index finger, his middle and ring fingers slipping languidly through your wet folds a few times before raising his hand for Tom to see.

Harrison nodded, showing his now glistening fingers to his friend as evidence. You were, indeed, incredibly wet. “See for yourself.” Harrison’s words caused Tom to shift on the bed, propping himself up with one elbow to get a better look at Harrison’s digits in the dimly lit room. But you could still see the juices he’d managed to collect on them, and it made Tom let out a low groan.

Tom went back to your lips in an instant, this time much more hungrily than he had before. “You’re so fucking sexy.” His voice was lower than usual and dripping in lust, which forced a shiver to rack through your body. Tom went back to running his hands up and down your side while Harrison worked on pulling your panties down your legs before tossing them on the floor somewhere in the room. The blond admired your pussy for a few moments before licking one long, thick stripe up your folds, causing your back to arch forward, pushing yourself closer into Tom’s toned chest. Your hands curiously roamed his torso, fingertips brushing every dip and crevice of his abs. It was an action you only dreamed you’d ever be able to do, but here you were. Two gorgeous British boys, one on your lips and one between your thighs. You were convinced you were the luckiest girl on the planet.

It was only then that you realized you were almost completely unclothed, whereas Tom was the only one with his shirt off. You sat up on your forearms, causing the two to halt their movements as they waited for you to speak. “Can I, um --” you cleared your throat and didn’t fail to feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “Let me suck you guys off.”

The command made their cocks twitch as Tom helped you down off the bed as Harrison hopped down himself, and the two stripped themselves of the rest of their clothes. Your eyes weren’t too sure where to focus as they raked over their naked forms. Of course, Tom was as fit as you had imagined him to be, but Harrison was more muscular than he let on. The blond boy’s cock was lengthier than his roommate’s but Tom made up for that in girth. You had trouble not salivating as you dropped to your knees, one attractive Brit on either side of you, with their hard, swollen cocks now at your eye level.

Admittedly, you weren’t entirely sure where to start, much less who to start with. You rationalized that since Harrison was just giving you head, it was only fair that you returned the favor. With that in mind, you wrapped one hand around each of them before licking a tantalizing slow stripe up the underside of their cocks. You took Harrison’s tip in your mouth slowly, stroking Tom in time with each bob of your head. After a few minutes, you switched, giving more attention to Tom’s dick, and you kept that pattern going for a while. Every time you’d pivot on your knees to suck one of them, they’d buck their hips gently into your mouth, a groan passing their already parted lips.

Eventually, Tom took a step backwards, and once Harrison saw the action, he did, as well. Tom offered you his hand to help you on your feet, a sinister glint in his eyes. “Why don’t you get back up on the bed, huh, love? On all fours.”

You felt a surge of arousal course through your veins at his words, but you nodded eagerly as you stood, getting on your hands and knees on the bed like Tom instructed. In an instant, Harrison was behind you, rubbing a calming hand over your back as Tom positioned himself on his knees at the front of the bed, his cock once again at your eye level. You were quick to take him back into your mouth as Harrison gently pushed your legs further apart, rubbing his length slowly up and down your slick folds, which made you moan around Tom’s dick.

“Ready for me, love?” Harrison cooed, placing one hand on your hip, the other still massaging your back as he lined himself up with your entrance. You hummed your reply, which was all the approval the blond needed to push himself inside of you, grunting at the feeling of your walls around him. “God, even tighter than I thought you’d be.”

The words made your walls contract around Harrison’s cock. Knowing that Harrison -- and most likely Tom, as well -- had thought about fucking you was the hottest thing ever and a dream come true. For the last few months, you thought the two British exchange students from your Philosophy class were incredibly out of your league, and now here you were. One in your mouth and the other inside your cunt. It was the type of story Pornhub viewers would eat up. You were sure of it.

Once Harrison began thrusting inside of you, it took a lot less effort to suck Tom’s cock. Each thrust jolted you forward, forcing you to take more of Tom’s length, and soon, the two were working in sync. Tom was rutting his hips to meet your mouth while Harrison was jutting his hips to get deeper inside of you. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this completely and utterly fucked, and the sensation made your walls clench around Harrison’s cock once more.

“Fucking hell, look so fucking hot. Taking my cock so good.” Harrison groaned, pulling you back by your hips. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment upon hearing the praise, making Tom raise his brows curiously.

He decided to test the waters, bringing one hand down to your chin. Your eyes opened once more, now making eye contact with the attractive brunet above you. Tom grinned, “Doesn’t look too bad from here either, mate.” Tom replied to Harrison, giving you a wink. The words made you moan around Tom’s cock, eliciting a low groan from him in response. “Well, well, well.” Tom smirked, his gaze moving to his friend for a moment. “Looks like Y/N’s got a praise kink.”

You wanted him to shut up, and in an attempt to make him do so, you opened your mouth wider to take Tom’s length into the back of your throat, which only made him lace his fingers in your hair. It was too late, anyway. The secret was out. “Really?” Harrison mused, shifting slightly to change the angle of his thrusts, quickening his pace. “You like being told you’re a good girl, don’t you, love?” You nodded as much as you could with Tom’s dick in your throat, batting your lashes up at the brunet. Tom rubbed his thumb gently over your cheek in response.

“You wanna be a good girl and cum for us, darling?” Tom cooed, thrusting himself deeper into your mouth, making you gag. The words made your walls clench around Harrison’s cock once more, eliciting a groan from the blond. You moaned around Tom’s length, and that was all the confirmation he needed. “Come on, then. Cum for us, love.” And the permission was all you needed, your eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm worked through you.

It was like a domino effect from there. Your moans of ecstasy around Tom’s cock caused his hips to stutter as he released into your throat, and the pulsing of your cunt sent Harrison over the edge, as well. After a few moments, you sat up on your knees, pulling your mouth away from Tom’s softening cock as Harrison simultaneously pulled out of you.

There was a silence between the three of you for a moment as you attempted to redress yourself, ready to head back to your dorm room. The two friends looked between each other before Tom nodded. “Hey, uh, Y/N. You don’t have to head back yet.”

The words took you a bit by surprise. You assumed this was much like other college hookups. You were supposed to head out as quickly as possible. But apparently, that was not the case. You halted your movements, only blinking and flicking your gaze between the two. Tom continued, “I mean, it’s getting late. We can let you borrow some clothes and you can, uh, spend the night.” You could almost see a blush tinge Tom’s cheeks from the dimly lit room as he spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t want you walking back to your dorm alone or anything, you know?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You replied awkwardly. It was a nice gesture, and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want this night with the two of them to end just yet. The two gave you identical grins upon hearing your answer, and Tom was quick to grab you a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for you to change into, which you graciously accepted.

The soft music you could still hear died down as the three of you changed, getting ready for bed. You weren’t sure how long you had been up in their bedroom with them, but it must’ve been a while considering the party had now run its course. There were no windows in their room, so you couldn’t judge based on the night -- or perhaps the morning -- sky what time it was. Nevertheless, you got ready to head to bed, shifting slightly on the balls of your feet, unsure of what your sleeping situation would be.

“Looks like you’re bunking with me.” Tom murmured into your ear, as if on cue, as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You giggled, spinning around in his arms. “Haz over there is a spreader. Sometimes he even falls off the damn bed.” The brunet chuckled, causing his roommate to thump him over the back of the head.

“I would’ve offered, but I do --” Harrison spread his arms and legs wide, as if demonstrating his sleeping position, “-- starfish.” You nodded knowingly, a giggle leaving your lips as you padded over to the other side of the room where Tom’s bed resided.

It was a tight squeeze for the two of you to lay on the same bed, not that you minded. You were pressed impossibly close to Tom’s bare chest, his arms wrapped around your middle as they had been a few moments prior. “Sorry I didn’t get to eat you out.” Tom whispered into your hair. The words made you turn to face him, one hand reaching up to push a few stray strands of hair out of his face. So this was what it was like to run your hands through his hair. It felt good. Almost too good.

“It’s okay.” you replied softly, still feeling incredibly sated in that moment, regardless. “Sorry you didn’t get to fuck me. Next time, I promise.” You tensed upon hearing the words leave your mouth. Next time. Admittedly, you didn’t know if there was going to be a next time. You weren’t sure whether you were just helping the two friends check an experience off their bucket list, or whether they would be willing to do something like this again. If that was the case, you just made a complete and utter fool out of yourself.

Nevertheless, Tom grinned at you, easing your nerves when he spoke, “Yeah. Next time.”

-----

@tom-hollands-eyelash / @ophcelia / @tiny-parker / @jackiehollanderr / @starlightfound / @thirsttrapholland / @marvelsinbin

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #tom holland fanfiction

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thinkinboutkiribaku · 4 years

Text

here's a summer fic i've been trying to write all summer... hope it’ll finish it before next autumn

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗'summary :

"S- Sometimes, I remember the first time I saw you and my heart still beats really fast... You were so dazzling and I knew I wanted to be by your side all the time…", Kirishima seemed hesitant but his eyes appeared glowing. " And I.. I-I", he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. "I think I'm the best one for you to be with… forever ?", as he said his last words, he lifted his deep gaze into his and god damn he looked even sweeter under the softened light, Katsuki wanted to kiss him violently right here right now. But he couldn't. Because those weren't Kirishima's words.

Reviewing your lines from the love scene of your show with you crush might definitely be a complicated idea, but Katsuki was in too deep for that shit already.

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗'Part I

"Aaaaaaand… cut! That's it ! We're good everyone, thanks for your hard work !"

"Get off' me, extra", Katsuki muttered as he shoved slightly the boy holding his arms.

Relaxing his position into a sitting one, he passed his hands through his sweaty bangs, sighing ; all the tension building within his shoulders finally lifting over. They've been rehearsing this scene for weeks now, moments of it even started to appear in Katsuki's nights ; swear to god if he had to spend one more day on it, he would have ended up exploding everything for real this time.

As he felt something cold leaking on his left eyelid, he removed his hand and saw through red drops falling on the ground ; fake blood leaking from the fake wound. Fuck, there might have been some in his hair too ; this was gonna be a pain in the ass to take off. But with the lack of sleep he had gotten the past few weeks, he already thought of himself as a walking dead. Now, at least he dug deeper the half dead vibes. He was pretty sure his skin looked green-ish already.

"Oy, Bakugou !"

Taken off from his dizzy thoughts and focus on his bloody hand, Katsuki grumbled as he got up. He didn't bother raising his gaze towards the excited voice that called after him, as he already knew to whom it belonged and that he most probably was wavering eagerly towards his attention. Didn't this fucker ever get embarrassed ? But as Katsuki finally landed his gaze on the boy, his wide smile beaming and igniting small sparkles inside him, he thought he didn't hate it that much.

"How diligent to come pick up your friend after school ; even though it's been a while you don't give up," a make-up intern beamed at Kirishima, who scratched the back of his neck for being praised. "Such a strong bond!"

"The fuck, he ain't picking me up, I can go home on fucking my own," Katsuki growled, violently grabbing the guardrail separating the set from the backstage where the two were standing.

"Your face's all bloody!" Kirishima exclaimed, his face illuminating and glitters sparkling his eyes, as he brought his face closer to Katsuki's, inspecting the fake but realistic blood.

Bright red eyes were glistening curiosity and interest so close to his face, Katsuki kinda wanted to squeeze his cheeks until he hurt a little.

"Don't come so close, fucker-" Katsuki muttered, shoving his hand on Kirishima's forehead, trying to pull him away so he wouldn't notice the slight heat coming from his cheeks.

"Oh, about that, Bakugou !", the girl bumped her fist in her hand, remembering something ; while Katsuki shoved Kirishima harder. "Haruka's ready to take the make-up and blood off your face, if you'd just-"

"Nah' I'll pass," he cut her, moving towards the space where all his belongings rested.

"You- You're gonna keep the blood and the rags clothes ?" she exclaimed, "are you even allowed-"

"I'm fucking tired and it's fucking night out there anyway", he grumbled already fed up with this conversation, as he put on an oversized black hoodie, covering his wrecked clothes.

"What'll you do if someone sees you though", Kirishima enquired, leaning his face on his arms, which were both laying on the guardrail, eyeing at Katsuki sideways with a cute face.

"I'll act as if I'm eating you, it'll scare them so much they'll fucking run for their life, the fuckers."

"Ehe, so manly!" the red boy chuckled, revealing his side pointy tooth. Katsuki zipped the high collar of his sweat so it'll hide the faint pink. "Ground zero sure is the best character for you!"

"Eh- too bad he fucking died." Katsuki blurted, as he took his backpack laying on the ground and made his way toward the exit, leaving Kirishima mouth hanging open for a few seconds before he caught up.

"You died ?? Wh- but you were the coolest !"

Kirishima ran to keep up next to Katsuki, putting his arms around the boy's shoulders. The blond boy could feel his warm breath panting upon his neck. Even though it was a definitely an intrusion past his personal space's limit ; Katsuki offering only rejection to any kind of closeness coming his way, Kirishima had always been an un-bothering exception.

As they kept on walking close-by under the dim light of the corridor, Katsuki validated his pass, allowing the massive depot door, exit of the studio, to open wide. A fresh breath of wind from outside blew from through their hair, and it smelled like sweet evening. Brush of pink and purple colors were disappearing in the dark of the sky, and the towering light of the faint sun and street light were already glowing increasingly.

"Come on, what do you mean you died! " Kirishima enquired, putting his face closer.

"Don't stick to me fucker, you're getting blood all over!" Katsuki snarled, violently putting his hands onto Kirishima's face but not pushing hard enough to repel the fucker.

"Did you get killed or did you manly sacrifice for yo teammates ?"

"The fuck Ground Zero would sacrifice for the other fucker's sake", Katsuki sneered, "He was killed by the villains 'cause they couldn't enroll him with them or some shit, so he killed them off and their base exploded with him."

"Waaah, that's one manly move! " Kirishima exclaimed, glitters in his eyes as he slightly pulled Katsuki, "But you died… You're taking it more nicely than I thought."

"Huh, and what were you expecting then."

"Well, y'know, something like", Kirishima pulled apart his arms from Katsuki's neck to face him; both his brows now furrowed, and his upper lips pulled upward in a scornful scowl, " 'The fuck you're killing me hun??! I'm the one who'll kill you all! ' and then, y'know," just as soon as it came, Kirishima's angry-katsuki imitation disappeared to make way for his usual cute and somewhat naïve usual face, "Bo—oum!!" he mimicked explosions sounds, opening his palms wide, his mouth forming a big 'oh'.

At the sight of this, Katsuki felt his heart squeeze real hard as sparks started exploding all over his stomach ; who gave that fucker the right to be so cute ? There he was, looking at him like he was the coolest human being he ever saw, with his gleaming smile revealing his pointy tooth, those fond and passionate eyes of his ; they always seemed to be so earnest and passionate, Katsuki often lost his gaze into them. Under the increasing darkness, Kirishima radiated more than any stars and moon or street lights aligned.

Carefully, Katsuki put his hands on Kirishima's soft cheeks, not aware of anything as he was lost in that fiery gaze ; his skin felt so warm. The air around them seemed softer, and Katsuki wondered if it was just him feeling that way or if Kirishima felt that too.

"B-Bakugou ?" Kirishima sputtered; and without flinching, Katsuki followed his impulse and pinched Kirishima's cheeks.

"Dum---mbass," he let go of his reddening cheeks while Kirishima whined, massaging his pinkish face. As Katsuki accelerated his walking pace, he could feel a breath of wind brushing against the sticky of his skin and through his hair bangs. Even though it was darker than minutes before, the air still felt extremely soft ; there was barely anyone in the streets now except for some standing under fast & streets food's neons emblems.

"But like, if you 'died', then…" Kirishima started fidgeting, scratching his right cheek. "you like, won't film anymore… ?"

"Not really… I won't for now, but at some point I'll be back, pulling some 'brought from hell" shit by the villains or as a fucking vengeful ghost or some shit…"

"Waah ! That's so cool, you'd come back from the dead! " Kirishima's eyes twinkled, as if Katsuki was really going to come from hell and back.

"Yeah, ain't bad."

"But… Like… Until then ? That mean you won't have anything right ? "

"Well yeah, I guess."

Kirishima's smile became so wide and beaming Katsuki could see it from his peripherical vision even though the ambiance around them had darkened.

"So that means you'll be more at school with me then!"

Since he was just stating the obvious, Katsuki didn't bother answer anything ; which didn't seem to bother Kirishima in any way as they fell into a calm routine, walking closely besides each other, shoulders sometimes bumping with warmth. There was no need for words to convey the red hair feelings as he was radiating happy-puppy vibes, and Katsuki let himself getting enveloped in it. He kinda needed to recharge as he'd been in the low lately.

Usually, he'd alternate filming and school, with his studies actually taking the upper hand―his mother made a strong point that he should never let whatever success he'd gain interfere with actually getting an education. Which was kind of ironic as she was the one who dragged him around from the age of five to every casting, claiming loud enough for any fucker that could hear her son had talent. (Yet now she was the first to shout to his face he was too conceited.)

The last few years made place for more exception to her rule nevertheless, and the last few weeks were spend mostly at the studio, shooting the vibrant and stirring last moments of the only character with some kind of potential, from that super hero show he was playing in.

Now, Katsuki could finally go back into his old routine.

"Ah !" Kirishima exclaimed loudly, violently knocking his fist into his palm, bringing back Katsuki's attention. "There's this discount on the new tacos place that's gonna ends soon ; we've gotta go tomorrow !"

"Why the fuck didn't you go sooner if it's going to expire."

"Well, I was waiting to go with you," beaming smile had Katsuki's heart to squeeze a little. "Also, you're like, the only one I know that can hold spices that much and I wanna know if you can handle their 'spicy hell flames'."

"Of course I will, the fuck you're taking me for ! Bring it !"

"That's the manly spirit !" Kirishima exclaimed, gripping his arm around Katsuki's neck.

"Fucker, I told you you're getting blood everywhere !", Katsuki shoved his hand into his friend's face, but it held none of his voice's spite.

" T's okay, it'll match my hair anyway,"

"You're a weirdo,"

"Ehe, Mina said that too this morning in PE," Kirishima muffled his arm comfortably onto Katsuki's shoulder, "But really, it's Kaminari the real weirdo, hey I'll tell you-" he giggled before going on about his day at school.

Listening to his voice so close made the blood rushing through his ears but it wasn't displeasing. Rather, it felt kinda nice ; soothing.

As Kirishima went on and on about their friend squad useless shenanigans, Katsuki felt a knot forming inside his ribcage. Those were all moments he enjoyed spending with others than him and thinking about Kirishima being this close on a daily basis to other while he was away left a bitter sweet taste in Katsuki's tongue.

"-So really, it's Kaminari's fault we had to stand in the corridor y'know ?"

"Y'all both stupid", Katsuki mumbled over Kirishima's whines. "If you're not in class to take note for me then what the fuck do I hang out with you for."

"So rude ! Plus, who do you take me for, of course I've got you covered, bakubro ! I got Momo to lend me her perfect notes, ehe."

"Your smug face looks so fucking stupid, move", Katsuki shoved Kirishima's hand from his shoulder, "get yo' perfect notes ready, I'm coming to check in a bit.", he added before turning his keys inside his front gate.

Kirishima waved for a bit too long before Katsuki finally got to the entrance door and opened it ; he was welcomed by the enlighten corridor and a mixed scent of spicy boiling curry aromas his father was probably still making, considering the sound of the cooker hood. He didn't bother stopping to say "hi" and only made his appearance heard by slamming the door loudly, as he didn't want his old hag to bawl her eye out at him for going out covered in (fake) blood. Day already had been exhausting enough, thank fuck ; he'll deal with her and the wash machine another day.

The sky had finally darkened totally, offering a perfect star and constellation diffusion all over town that Katsuki noticed upon opening his window. Taking a short inhalation, he hopped onto the rail guard of his balcony and balanced himself towards the end of it ; where it met with Kirishima's balcony. He then jumped in, inviting himself inside Kirishima's room ; the door was already open for his sake.

Welcomed by the sound of water running, Katsuki put himself at ease under the kotatsu ; throwing on his way a wrapped curry tupperware and some notebooks on it. He only spent a few minutes on his phone before Kirishima showed up ; rubbing a towel upon his damp hair. Katsuki noted with an internal pout that Kirishima didn't come out chest naked.

"I thought you'd take more time with the fake blood and all," Kirishima smiled, before crouching under the kotatsu as well.

While the red hair was being busy taking all his books and notes off his red backpack, Katsuki was magnetized by the way water drops were making their way onto Kirishima's body lines. He looked less dumb and softer with his hair flat down, and Katsuki held the thought that he was the only one seeing Kirishima that intimately close to his angry heart. Just next to the thought that he couldn't see him as much as their other classmates.

"Soo, what you wanna review ? We did some more stuff in maths and-"

"Show me the notes Ponytail gave you", taking the notebook, Katsuki started browsing through the pages ; before opening their math book to the matching page before assigning exercises to work on.

Since middle school or something, it had become routine for Katsuki to review his missed classes together with Kirishima.

"Hey, how'd'you solve that equation ? Show me !"

Though study session usually ended up with Katsuki, somehow, being the one tutoring Kirishima as he didn't have any problem keeping up the study path. Even managing to be in the top 3 best of his class ‎―while Kirishima usually kept his grades floating around the middle.

It felt comfortable being like this ; on week where he had a lot of shootings and couldn't do much else, these study sessions were his precious sanctuary. Katsuki never really felt hatred against his job, but he definitely hated missing Kirishima that much. These last few weeks especially had been really hard on him…

After a while of half-dozing and writing, Katsuki sighed as he furtively peeked a glance, letting his heart beat intensely at the cute sight of the red hair pouting, trying to solve his equations.

"Hey, let's do something else I'm tired."

"Wh- For real ? That's not like you ! Every time I ask for a cancellation you always say no."

"Fine, keep going then."

"Wha- no ! I'm all with you !", Kirishima closed his notebook over-excitedly, too eager to let such an opportunity slip. "What do you wanna do then ?"

"Let's just… watch a movie, or something. I don't care, I'm tired.", Katsuki scratched his neck, his cheeks softly pinkening as he eyed Kirishima's bed. He really didn't care about the activity, but watching a movie had the best chance resulting with him and Kirishima lying close in bed, and Katsuki really needed that warmth.

"Hehe, it feels just like when we were kid." Kirishima giggled and Katsuki could feel his ribcage moving next to his. Somewhere deep down in his heart, he felt like he was wronging Kirishima somehow ; using their friendship as a way to satisfy his definitely non-friendly feelings. Still, he crawled even deeper under the sheets. It was really deep deep down after all.

" 'S not bad."

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗'

part II

, part III,

#fanfic #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mha #fake word real love #that's the title lol

4 notes · View notes

1kook · 6 years

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wong yukhei x female reader

 Summary: You can’t even begin to describe the disappointment that blossoms in your chest when someone rattles the doorknob and Yukhei startles, successfully ending your heavy make-out.  

This shit is smut y'all!!!!!!! 5.6k words of it!!!! Hey this my first fic for the nct folks so please excuse any oc things I’m a lil rusty when it comes to xreader fic lol whoops

Unlike high school, college was absolutely kicking your ass. Between the near constant deadlines and the awkward sleeping schedules, university life was completely unlike the easy ride you’d experienced during high school. Though you’d come from a large public school and had the pleasure of graduating with over two hundred other students, your university’s population was tripled.

The population made it increasingly difficult to maneuver from building to building, and was even more troublesome when you’d have to attend your large lectures every Wednesday afternoon. The hall was ginormous to say the least, with rows of benches that went up for what seemed like forever. Though you’d thus far been blessed with a seat near the front of the board, you figured sooner or later you’d have to take the stumble of shame towards the very back of the hall.

Unfortunately for you, that time came sooner than you’d like. It was already towards the end of the second semester, your hectic life as a college freshman was coming to an end, and you yearned to finally be freed from the awkwardness of being, well, a freshman. You still had to endure the last few weeks of second semester, which would surely be another challenge in itself. Being a freshman meant that literally any upperclassmen had superiority over you, and for the most part, weren’t very concerned with noobs like you anyway. Which is how you found yourself climbing towards the very back of the lecture hall, five minutes late, and extremely flustered.

You prided yourself in recognizing a good handful of your classmates, especially those who often saved you a seat, or would be willing to move their stuff for you to pass by if you asked. For some reason though, that wasn’t really coming in clutch for you today, and the further back you went, the more upperclassmen you encountered, none of which you knew well enough to scoot by. By the time you found an accessible seat, you were already at the very last row. There was hardly anyone towards the back of the hall, save for a few stragglers whose only concern was receiving their weekly attendance points.

Among those was Yukhei, a handsome upperclassmen you’d often seen at many of the frat barbecues, laughing obnoxiously loud. He was there, idly swiping through his phone, dyed fringe flopping over his forehead. He was undoubtedly attractive, and you’d like to convince yourself he was some hoodlum wasting his parents’ money away at college, but the results posted outside the hall clearly showcased him as some genius, who nearly always ranked in the top ten percent. Yukhei was smart as hell, and he was only a year older than you. You’d seen him many times, but you doubted he knew or even heard of you.

You uneasily set your stuff down, and though you were at the very edge of the bench, with easy access to the aisle, you felt suffocated by Yukhei’s strong presence. He was every bit the dapper young man, sharp edged yet soft. He was seemingly unaware of your presence, long fingers tapping a beat on the edge of the table. It wasn’t until you clicked your pen that his attention flickered towards you, big eyes giving your a brief once over, and you had to contain a full body shiver at that.

Yukhei was by no means some notorious womanizer, and you’d rarely heard of him sleeping around (you doubted he was completely pure, though), yet the absolute machismo he radiated was unlike any you’d ever experienced before.

He blinked at you, as if he was completely unaware of the effect he had on women. By the way his doe eyes twinkled, though, you started to believe maybe he was blind to the effects he had on people like you.

“Hey,” he said after a beat of silence, lips pulling into a taut smirk. It was by no means cocky, as it felt rather friendly.

You were so distracted by the pull of those pink lips, that his greeting didn’t immediately register in your mind. “Hi,” you belatedly responded, the lecture in front of you long forgotten, pen halfway towards your notebook.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he offhandedly mentioned, and you were mesmerized by the sight of his long fingers toying with his phone on the table. “I’m Yukhei,” he said, and someone in the row in front of you shushed him.

The flush that formed on his cheeks was a complete surprise, as was the way his doe eyes rounded comically. You couldn’t stop the soft huff of laughter that left your lips, further startling him. You glanced at the row in front of you, before leaning in just the slightest bit and quietly saying, “I’m ____.”

The whole time, he was staring at you as if you were revealing your deepest secret, lips quirked up in the cutest way. “Are you new?” He murmured, leaning in as well.

You snorted, and quickly clapped a hand over your mouth, much to Yukhei’s amusement. “Why would I transfer with two weeks left?” You replied, and you couldn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes at your clever reply. He shrugged, and hummed a weird noise that sounded a lot like i don’t know.

Your professor said something then, finally drawing your attention back to the lecture at hand. You shifted your attention back to the presentation, furiously jotting down the notes you’d missed, and after a while, Yukhei’s presence slipped to the back of your mind.

It wasn’t until the end of class, when you’d began shoving your notebooks back into your bag that he’d caught your attention again. “Well it was nice meeting you, new girl,” he teased, sliding out of the bench after you. You laughed, quickly bidding goodbye, and though your stomach felt tingly from his presence, the whole encounter completely slipped from your mind by the time evening rolled around.

The next time you see Yukhei is across the crowded cafeteria. You’re sitting with your friends between classes, contentedly chewing away at your lunch, when a loud ruckus catches half of the cafeteria’s attention, including yours.

It was a group of young men fooling around near the Starbucks stand, obnoxiously joking around with each other as they awaited their drinks. You recognized most of them the way you usually did: from parties and other miscellaneous events. It was the usual crowd of handsome guys, and for a moment you wondered if Yukhei was acquainted with these fellows.

Your question was quickly answered when you spotted light brown fringe peeking out of the white cap of a giant. He was clad in more comfortable clothes this time, a plain white tee with the front tucked into some Adidas pants. The stripes that ran down the sides of his legs made him seem almost unexplainably long, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from tracing down his figure.

You were so engrossed in the act that you failed to notice how much closer him and his pack had wandered towards you. They were even louder now, with Yukhei’s laughter ringing above it all. He was attractive even then, you couldn’t help but think.

It was probably that last thought that caused your slow reaction when he caught your eye. His eyes twinkled beneath the brim of his cap, and his raised one big hand up to wave at you, which you easily reciprocated. His lips quirked up into that cute smile again, so infectious you had to return it.

His friend said something you couldn’t catch then, and the smile that consumed his face would’ve been quite the sight if he hadn’t shyly ducked his head down, the hand waving at you going to rub at the nape of his neck.

Cute, you thought.

The third time you see Yukhei is in class again.

You’re on time this week, and manage to snag your usual seat at the front with your buddies, when he walks through the door. Your eyes instantly latch onto his figure, and, as if sensing it, he catches you. He graces you with one of those half smirk, half smiles again, and much to your surprise he saunters straight over towards you and your friends.

“Hey,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the table top in front of you.

“Hi,” you say, and his eyes flicker from you to your friends for a moment, before leaning onto the edge of the desk, pink tongue darting across his lips. He catches your gaze.

“My guys and I are having a party this weekend,” he mentions, and you lean forward, eyes tracing over his soft facial features. “You should come,” he says, and for a moment, he seems almost shy. Then as if remembering you’re not alone, he glances up towards your friends. “All of you, I mean.”

You roll your lips in, trying to repress the smile that so desperately wants to take over, and answer with a sure nod.

Yukhei’s smile gets impossibly wider, and he knocks his knuckles against the table one more time, before slowly stalking backwards. “Cool, great, awesome,” he says, and you nearly snort when he adds, “snazzy.”

The next time you see Yukhei is kind of planned, but not really. You have to admit, Yukhei’s house throws some of the best parties on campus, and the fact that his brothers are all respectable guys who actually take school seriously is just another plus. Like usual, the lot is packed when you and your friends arrive a little past ten thirty. There’s people spilling out onto the front porch, and some dilly-dalliers even strewn across the lawn. You maneuver your way into the house and are immediately bombarded by colorful lights and the strong stench of weed. Though you don’t mind it, the extremity of the scent is enough to give you a second-hand high that you didn’t really plan for. You’ve been cross-faded before, and truthfully, it’s a little too much for you.

You settle on watching an intense match of beer bong in the main living room, leaning against the fire place and conversing with other girls also immersed in the game. The cheers for the game are loud and rambunctious, typical of a college party, and you soon find yourself absorbed in your role as a partygoer. There’s drinks being handed out, and you don’t hesitate to down multiple red cups right away. The pleasant feel of alcohol swimming through your veins like a soft persuasion to let loose.

And you do.

You’re next up for beer pong, excited in a way only parties make you feel, when a hand clasps around your wrist. You whirl around, and nearly crash into Yukhei, who’s all giggly and ditzy from partying. “Hey,” he yells over the music, and you can’t help the giggle that spills through your lips at his customary greeting.

“Hi,” you shout back, lips brushing dangerously close to his neck, which smells of so much alcohol and sweat, you’d be disgusted if you didn’t smell the same. Someone yells at you to return for the game, but Yukhei waves them off, whisking you towards the staircase, where he pushes another drink into your hand.

“I’m so glad you could come,” he shouts, and you see his lips move but you honestly don’t catch a single word that leaves his lips. You wanna blame the pounding bass for your sudden inability to hear him, but a voice in your head says you’d been to distracted just watching his cherried lips to pay attention.

You motion for him to repeat.

You’re not expecting for him to lean in close, lips pressed to the shell of your ear, “so glad you could make it, new girl,” he says, and you’re vaguely aware of the large hand pressed to the base of your spine. Your senses are slowly being pushed into maximum overdrive, so all you manage is a dumb nod.

He leans away from you, but the feeling of Yukhei’s body leaning over you is already engraved into your mind, and you find yourself reaching a hand out to grasp at the front of his sleeveless shirt, pulling him closer.

“You look hot,” you say, and he laughs hard against you, chest bumping yours.

“Thanks,” he says, glances back towards the living room that seems to have become even more populated since you were there. “You look hot, too,” he returns, and you smirk. You unclasp your grip on his shirt, only to glide your palm over his neck, gently pressing your palm into the muscles there.

Yukhei’s entire demeanor flickers then, and you catch him slipping, trying to remain as a composed gentlemen. He teeters dangerously on the edge between that and a rugged man whose only desire is to eat you up. His lip is caught between his teeth, and it takes him a hard gulp, but he eventually regains his composure, and flashes you a sweet smile.

But the tiny flash you’d seen of his other persona is enough to catch your interest, and you can feel the heat forming in your core. The way his Adams apple had bobbed before you as he struggled to remain respectful replays in your head, over and over again. You give him a smile in return, and he seems sort of calm in your presence now. You almost feel bad for wanting to purposely rile him up.

You lean forward, soothingly pressing your fingers into his neck. “Thanks for inviting me,” you murmur, and you’d be worried he didn’t hear you, but the way his eyes are laser focused on you assures you he did. Nonetheless, you take a challenging step closer, ghosting your lips over his ear in the same teasing way he’d done to you earlier. “Isn’t it hot in here?”

You feel him swallow beneath your fingertips, and that definitely sends another spark down south, feeling his muscles twitch. The little action is probably what seals the deal for you as you hear him stutter out a shaky agreement. You sigh a soft, “Yukhei.”

“Yes?” He breathes, and from the corner of your eye, you catch the way his hand hovers over your waist, fist clenching only to relax afterwards, his internal struggle still going on.

“Where’s your room?” You ask, and press your chest to his. Your forwardness seems to be the deciding factor for him as well, and you feel his hand clasp onto your hip, fingers digging into your skin.

“My roommate’s in there right now,” he huffs out, and you sigh in a teasing way, slowly peeling yourself away from him. His eyes are wide as you pull away, only fueling you further.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you la–”

“We can go somewhere else,” he abruptly blurts out, eyes wide. You beam at him, your hand slowly drifting away from his neck and down his exposed biceps, lightly squeezing the muscle.

“Show me.”

Yukhei wastes no time in tugging you up the stairs you’d been leaning against and down the subsequent upstairs hallway. There’s people littered all over the place, some couples languidly making out against the walls, while others spark up by the bathroom. He guides you towards the end of the hallway, where a tacky sign reading Jae’s Room adorns the wooden door. He glances behind you almost mischievously, like a little devil, and you wonder if he’ll look at you the same way. He tugs the door open, and ushers you inside, before shutting the door behind himself.

The room is dark, and Yukhei wastes no time flicking on a lamp in the corner of the room, drowning the room in a soft golden hue. Yukhei looks even more handsome in the light, tan skin smooth like velvet. When his eyes meet yours, you feel inexplicably trapped by his gaze, and for the first time that night, your cheeks flush, forcing you to look away.

Yukhei sees anyway, and saunters over, cheeky smile adorning his features. He wastes no time in catching your jaw between his fingers, slowly turning your face towards him. Your breath catches from his proximity, and you can’t help the small quiver that passes over you, brought on by the honeyed look in his eyes. He gently presses your lips together, too soft for some random college hook-up, that your knees almost buckle beneath you.

His hands depart your face, and glide down your arms and across your waist, until the settle on the curve of your spine, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. The music is more muted in the room, and you hear the quiet smack of your lips against his, and the soft noises you both make.

Yukhei steps forward, and the backs of your knees meet the edge of the bed. He slowly eases you down, until you’re sitting and he’s leaning over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Your hands are tracing across his broad shoulders, moving towards the nape of his neck, and tugging at his hair. He releases a quiet moan at the action, and you quietly lock that way for safe keeping.

If you’re being honest, Yukhei is doing all the right things. His hands press over your waist and your spread thighs, long fingers sending shivers throughout your body. His tongue is working wonders on you, pressing into all your sensitive areas, making you squirm. He’s so attractive, both in his physical appearance and his personality, that the wetness that forms between your legs is embarrassing.

You can’t even begin to describe the disappointment that blossoms in your chest when someone rattles the doorknob and Yukhei startles, successfully ending your heavy make-out.

You begin to wave them off, hand tracing over Yukhei’s jaw to guide him back to you, when Yukhei becomes jittery, quickly tugging you to your feet.

Surprisingly, whoever is outside the door hasn’t let up their efforts, and you begin to wonder who it is, when Yukhei suddenly pulls the closet door open, peeking inside it with wide eyes.

You tilt your head at him in confusion, and are immediately graced with his goofy smile, though now it’s a little more anxious than before. “Um,” he says, eyes flickering between you and the door. “Get in?”

You blink.

“What?”

Yukhei swallows, and you nearly lose focus of the situation at hand.

“Technically, we’re not supposed to be in each other’s rooms during frat parties,” he explains, nervously jiggling the closet’s doorknob back and forth.

“And I think Jaehyun’s trying to get in.”

You glance at the bedroom door, which has gone suspiciously quiet. Suddenly, the soft clink of a key being inserted rings throughout the room, startling even you into jumping into the dark of the closet. Yukhei nudges the clothing aside, allowing you enough space to sit on the floor, before promptly following. The closet door clicks shut right as the bedroom door jangles open.

Sure enough, you assume it’s this Jaehyun fellow who’s entered. Surprisingly, he’s by himself, though he’s talking loudly. You logically deduce he’s on the phone, if the pauses between his outbursts are any indication.

You breathe a sigh of relief, because if you had to sit through another couple fucking while you listened like some voyeur, you’d feel repulsed with yourself. Still, you’re trapped in the closet with Yukhei, who was only a few minutes away from having sex with you. Your cheeks flame. The closet light is off, though, and you’re also facing away from Yukhei, so your embarrassment won’t show.

You’re nestled between his long legs on the floor, and you can feel his hot breath fanning down your neck. One of his hands is pressed against the wall, while the other loosely grasps your shoulder, as if to keep you from shuffling around too much. You’re lucky the closet floor is carpeted, otherwise your behind would’ve started hurting the moment you’d sat down. At most, the carpeted floor grants you another five minutes of comfiness.

However, Yukhei’s imminent threat of being caught in his frat brother’s room is temporarily gone, and you feel him relax behind you. As if the situation hits him, he releases a soft puff of laughter, and you pinch his thigh to keep him from laughing any louder.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, and then, “for making you do this.”

The situation screams Yukhei, and you can’t really complain, because you’d signed up specifically for Yukhei, so you just give your own quiet huff of acknowledgment. Though you had been so ready to get down and frisky with Yukhei just moments ago, your current plight is also quite endearing in a way you feel only Yukhei could make it be.

However comfortable you are with him, your ass isn’t with the floor, and you soon start to feel the bruising ache set into your behind.

You shift a little, hoping to find another position that will let you sit for a few more minutes. Jaehyun is still on the phone outside, talking animatedly with whoever, and you hope the conversation is nearing an end.

You eventually find a somewhat comfortable position when you move back a little, and are able to stretch your knees out a little. You sigh contentedly, your back bumping into Yukhei’s chest. You’re closer now, and he knows it too, if the way he sets his chin on your shoulder is any indication.

This position is kinda cute, you think, if you were in another setting. Maybe a picnic in the park, or on the couch during a movie. It’s a little shocking that you’re thinking of such situations with someone you’ve met only a handful of times, but Yukhei’s sweet, and somewhere in your chest, you hope this end-of-the-school-year fuck won’t just be a one time thing.

Your thoughts are cut short when you shift back, and feel something poke against your ass. Yukhei sucks in a sudden breath, and you’re instantly aware of what just happened. Between your Yukhei induced daydreams and your constant shifting around, Yukhei was still in the mood, and the close proximity only heightened his arousal, which so kindly poked you in the behind as friendly reminder.

Jaehyn’s voice is still ringing clearly through the door, and by the sounds of it, he’s nowhere near ending his phone call.

Poor Yukhei must be suffering behind you, so aroused yet so trapped. The idea of him being so turned on, even in such a situation sort of sparks something in you as well, though. It doesn’t take long for the warmth between your legs to start up again, and your mind soon becomes hazy in the sort of cloud only sex puts you in.

You shift back again, and you hear Yukhei exhale against your ear, the hand that had been resting on your shoulder pressing down, as if to warn you. You gently place a hand on one of the legs that encages you, running your fingers up and down to test the waters, and quietly coax him into some fun.

When Yukhei doesn’t push you away, the idea nestles itself into your mind and stays there permanently. You carefully nudge Yukhei’s legs open a bit further, and he easily complies, allowing you to situate yourself even closer to his throbbing manhood. His hand falls away from your shoulder, only to press into your hip, as you slowly press back into him, his soft gasps only encouraging you further.

“___,” he murmurs, the way his voice wobbles music to your ears. You reach for his hands, hastily winding them around your body, until your pressing his palms against your breasts, urging him to return the sensations. Yukhei easily complies, with another soft whine of your name.

Though you’d definitely pegged Yukhei as a dominant man, one who was one hundred percent in control, the way he moulds under your touch is equally as satisfying. He does what you want him to, and accepts everything you give him. It’s different from what you’ve usually experienced, but you aren’t complaining.

Just as you wrap up those thoughts, you feel the wet sensation of lips pressing against the juncture of your neck, and the gentle nips of teeth against your skin. You fight to hold back a gasp, barely managing to clasp a palm over your mouth. The sound quickly dissolves behind your palm, and you slowly begin to relax, raising a hand up to card your fingers through Yukhei’s hair.

You’re thrown for a loop again when one of Yukhei’s hands, which had been so diligently palming over your breast, snakes its way down your stomach, until his fingers are tracing over the seam of your jeans, right over your throbbing lips. The soft glide of his fingertips makes you jump, losing control over your own body. “Yukhei,” you breathe, quickly reaching down to grab at his palm, when he counters you, snatching your wrist away.

His chuckles are soft against your neck, and you can feel the smirk pressed against your damp skin. “So cute,” he murmurs, fingertips not once letting up their teasing onslaught. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out, but your hips shift back and forth, thighs clamping down on his hand involuntarily. “Shh,” he hums, releasing your wrist only to press his fingers against your mouth. “Jaehyun hyung will hear you,” he warns you, and you nod, though your legs still quiver and your lower lip still trembles.

The uncomfortable dampness between your legs is unbearable, but the fingers pressing against your clothed pussy are even worse. Yukhei traces a long finger up and down the area where he knows your lips meet, leaving your brain a muddled mess. “Please,” you murmur, your head slowly rolling back until it’s rested against his shoulder, and Yukhei, the absolute devil, laughs.

“I dunno,” he whispers, pressing his lips up your neck, until he’s kissing at your jaw. His hand, the one not currently occupied, snakes itself up your shirt, until he’s tracing his fingers along the cups of your bra. “Is it worth me getting in trouble?”

You gasp when his fingers finally find their way into your bra, and he rolls a pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Y-yukhei,” you pant, and your muscles twitch from all the stimulation he’s giving you. Your legs go to close again, but this time he grasps onto your thigh, and holds them open again. “Pretty please,” you beg, voice as wobbly as his was earlier, when he’d been under your control.

It had been so much easier then, when you only needed to guide Yukhei around, and you knew exactly what was coming next. This other side of Yukhei, teasing you and playing with your pleasure, was dangerously delicious, and the wetness of your panties would vouch for that.

“Mmm” he hums against your neck, releasing your nipple, only to grasp onto your jaw. His fingers encourage you to look over at him, and even though your drenched in complete darkness, Yukhei’s eyes looked impossibly darker. “Pretty please,” he repeats, lips ghosting over yours, and his grip stops you from leaning forward to kiss him. “I like that,” he murmured, right before he leaned down to kiss you again, his mouth hot, making the closet feel more and more like a sauna with every passing second.

His tongue is rough against yours, quickly repressing any ideas to take over you might’ve had with a quick flick. If Yukhei’s previous actions turned you on, the amount of excitement he sparks in you now is ten times more intense. His long fingers continue to stroke over your core, stopping every now and then to palm over it.

You can’t help the soft moan that leaves your lips. Yukhei bites down hard on your bottom lip, as if giving you both a warning and a punishment for being loud when one of his brothers is right outside. You’re stuttering breaths eventually draw him away, and you find yourself chasing after him, the hand knotted in his hair tugging him closer.

Yukhei smirks, nudging your nose with his, until you’re dazedly staring up at him. “Beg,” he whispers, right as you feel the button on your jeans pop open.

“Huh,” you murmur, attention zeroed in on his lips.

“Beg,” he repeats, fingers crawling into your underwear, causing your breath to hitch again. “Because I still don’t know if I wanna get in trouble,” he adds, eyes momentarily flicking towards the door.

“Please,” you murmur, pulling at his hair again, remembering the soft noise he’d made before the two of you had abruptly jumped into the closet earlier. He reacts the same way he had earlier, temporarily losing his focus, before he’s back on you, pressing kiss after kiss onto your skin, though his hand refuses to crawl any deeper into your underwear.

“C’mon, princess,” he teases, biting down on your neck. You flinch, and he uses your vulnerable state to press a finger against your clit. You have to bite down the whine that catches in your throat, nearly curling in on yourself. “Say it again,” he whispers, “that cute little thing you said.”

Your mind is on a completely different plane, and you struggle to piece together what he wants. What had you said again? The alcohol that still thrums in your system isn’t much of a help either, and you nearly forgot that he wanted you to say something until he nips at your neck again, and your eyes roll back into your head.

“Please,” you exhale, pressing a hand over his, the one that’s over your breast. He quickly grabs onto it, tangling your fingers together, and you continue your quest to figure him out. “Please, Yukhei,” you whimper.

You can feel his lips break away from your skin, and you feel them as they start to move again, when you suddenly add, “pretty please,” fingers tightening in his hold.

“There you go,” he breathes, before his fingers finally begin to toy with you, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath your folds. You’re leaning against him even more now, head rolled onto his shoulder due to your inability to hold it up. “So cute,” he murmurs as he presses a soft kiss to the vein in your neck.

His fingers are still hard at work, using the wetness you’d accumulated to spread all over you. “You’re so wet,” he chuckles, and you shiver at the sound, your body so sensitive to everything this boy does. “Don’t let Jaehyun hear you,” he murmurs, and you feel yourself nod. “Or else I’ll be mad,” he adds, and though he’s just teasing, the prospect of seeing him mad sends another jolt of adrenaline through your body.

However, you’re still holding onto the hope that this isn’t a one time thing, and quietly file away the information for another time.

“Yukhei,” you mewl, quiet and soft against his hair, your body giving another twitch when he presses a finger against your opening. “Make me come,” you sigh, calming yourself enough to spread your legs wider for him. “Pretty pretty please,” you tack on, fingers twitching from where they’re nestled inside his silky hair.

“Of course, baby,” he responds, deep voice husky from all the whispering you’ve been doing. You feel a finger slowly submerging itself inside of you, pressing into you with a quiet squelching sound. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, and you nearly mewl.

His finger presses in and out a few more times, and just when you’re gonna beg for another one, he beats you to it. His long fingers work fast, scissoring inside of you. And you find yourself writhing at his touch.

“Please,” you whine, tugging at his hair. “Kiss me, Yukhei,” you say when he finally looks at you. He complies with your request, pressing his soft mouth against yours again, tongue prodding around like usual.

It’s all too much by now, the tedious teasing he’d done for what felt like forever, the hot press of his mouth, and the delicious way he’d worked his fingers inside of you. You’re not sure if you’re turned on from just how talented this guy is with his fingers, or the fact you could get caught any second now. You guess both, and your attention temporarily flickers over towards the door, where you hear the soft lull of Jaehyun’s voice.

As if sensing your attention drifting away, Yukhei curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You gasp into his mouth, pressing yourself even closer to him. You pull your mouth away, and you open it and close it multiple times, like some floundering fish, legs shaking even more than they were a moment prior.

Yukhei seems to get your message, and curls his fingers again. “It’s okay, ____,” he murmurs, and you feel that ridiculous smile pressed against your cheek again. You’d hit him if he wasn’t about to deliver the most exciting orgasm you’ve had in a while. “I got you, baby,” he breathes, fingers going into maximum overdrive inside of you, pulling in and out, curling at the perfect spot with each dive in.

When you finally orgasm, your whole body shakes, legs clamping shut to keep his hand from moving. You find yourself pressing your intertwined hands to your mouth, as if trying to cover up the already silent scream that wants to leave you. Gradually, your body begins to relax, despite the heavy way your chest rises and falls.

Your floating on cloud nine when you vaguely register the sound of a door shutting, and suddenly, all you hear is Yukhei’s breath against your ear. You slowly peel yourself away from Yukhei, suddenly aware of your soaked panties, and soiled jeans.

Yukhei’s hand reaches up for the knob, still not saying a word, and you carefully peek out the small crack he opens. When you conclude there’s no one in the room anymore, you push the door open all the way, stumbling out of the closet like some drunkard. Which, you technically are.

“Well,” you say, stretching your legs out as your eyes scan across the room once again. “That was fun.”

“____,” you hear Yukhei sigh, and when you turn around, you catch sight of his disheveled appearance, still submerged in the partial darkness of the closet. His eyes are dangerously hooded, eyes dark like chocolate as they stare you down. He looks absolutely delectable in that situation, and the tent in the front of his pants sends another chill down your spine. “Don’t be rude,” he teases, sinful tongue peeking out to lick across his smirk.

And well, you can’t be rude, really.

The next time you see Yukhei, he’s tucked beneath the blanket beside you, one arm lounging across the dip in your spine, as you cuddle closer to him.

- [ original post 2018 ] : is this proofread?? hell nah!!!! should i start taking requests now or something??? idk sis u tell me!!!!!

[ july 2020 update ] ; i added a tag on mobile that fucked up the post layout lol but now its fixed !

#nct 2018 #nct lucas #nct lucas smut #nct lucas wong #nct yukhei #nct yukhei smut #nct yukhei wong #yukhei wong #nct xuxi #huang xuxi #wong xuxi #wong yuk hei #nct u #lucas wong #mine #nct fic

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dr-dendritic-trees · 5 years

Text

Here be the Endgame thoughts, they are filled with spoilers.

So, I had SUPER low expectations for Endgame. I have been finding the big teamup movies increasingly cumbersome, I still can’t summon the energy to sit through Infinity War.

But on the whole I thought it was a very good movie. I enjoyed it more than I didn’t.

Whether you like Endgame or not, in my opinion, comes down to whether you personally found it emotionally satisfying. If you did, great, if you didn’t, I’m not here to try and talk you around, I’m sorry to hear the movie didn’t do it for you, and I hope you find some really good fanfic to make up for it.

And in the end, that’s what it came down to. It worked for me. It happened to have in it, the things I personally needed it to have. It met my expectations.

I didn’t want to get bogged down in post-apocalyptic details of the Snap, and I wasn’t, and I wanted to not have the universe reset by unwinding time, because that trope almost never works for me, and they didn’t.

I did get emotionally resonant call backs, cool fights and interesting character interactions. And quite frankly, my home fandom is Halo and I received the gifts of the team in matching armour, and glorious heroic deaths.

But the biggest reason why I felt leary of Endgame going in, was that I didn’t feel ready for an ending. I didn’t have an ending I wanted, because I wanted about a dozen per character. I still do, and I knew I wasn’t going to get that. But I really felt like the movie honour that. That’s what the time-travel mechanic is based on. You can’t change you past, but we can have an infinite number of avengers, making trouble in infinite New Yorks.

That’s basically it. Keep reading for character by character breakdown (starting with the bad bits, moving onto the good bits).

Unfortunately the fact that most of the movie was good, made the bad bits bad:

1. The much played up “gay character”. What crap. Seriously. That was nothing. There’s a lot of things about endgame that I think need to be viewed Doylistly, especially the character endings which are, of course, based on actor contracts. But this isn’t it “its a superhero movie, what do you expect” explains the lackadasical time travel, it does not excuse making a huge fuss over such a piddling little gesture.

2. Clint: What a fucking disaster. I hated every single thing about it. Part of the suspension of disbelief of a superhero movie, along with superpowers is that our heroes are going to beat up rooms full of people, and that’s going to be good, and we’re going to cheer. So I didn’t have time, in the tiny little clip we got, to feel anything at all about Hawkeye slicing through rooms of ‘baddies’. So the whole, fall-and-redemption arc fell totally flat, and added to that, I got to sit through the image of a white man slicing through rooms of people of colour, and it was gross, and I didn’t like it. I get that Clint has been criminally underdeveloped by these films. But it was too late to fix it in Endgame, they should have just admitted it.

Also, it cost us the alternate take on Clint and Natasha’s final scene that my friend suggested “I have to save you you have a family” vs “No, I’ve had a family, I’ve had all that time, you’ve only just found yours, so I have to send you back to them”.

3. Thor: Not only was everything they did with Thor a small-minded mean-spirited joke, it was one they kept dragging on and on and on. I hated it. That being said, two points. Firstly, in a weird way, I feel slightly better about Frigga’s death now, giving her agency over it makes it marginally less fridgy. And also, the final Thor look, with the braided beard! Superb! Amazing! Wonderful!

4. Wanda: for the first time ever I had a feeling about Wanda. I was surprised.

5. Bruce: I have no real feelings one way or another, about the professor hulk thing. It sets up the end of the movie well, I think on balance they’re more interesting as characters when they’re split up. But maybe it’ll grow on me.

6. Nebula: I still haven’t seen GOTG2, but I love Nebula now! I love her and Rhodey together, I want them to get a movie.

7. This isn’t a character, but the overall rhythm of the finale, where the avengers finally avenge the world and then the dead they avenge come help them fight. It could not be better, it was wonderful. Also the final scene with all the ladies brought me joy beyond telling. I’ve subsequently seen some critiques that it was “just pandering, not real feminism” but I just don’t care guys. Its an action sequence in a big final act showdown, all it needed to be was pandering. I love to be pandered to, quite frankly.

8. I still haven’t seen Captain Marvel, but she’s extremely shiny and exciting and I am in love with her.

10. Steve: Steve fighting himself (complete with Winter Soldier callbacks) was amazing fanservice, but also surprisingly moving, as a commentary on Steve as a character. Steve with the hammer was everything. As to the ending, I liked this more the day after the movie than when I first saw it. Overall I thought it was really good. I know a lot of people longed for Steve to get a retirement, but honestly, I would never have found that believable. Steve, will always fight. And even though Steve’s been circling around the idea of ‘moving on’ since Avengers, he never did. So I felt this completed things. I like the implication of openeness. Steve is the moral core of the story, so Steve, as the keeper of the infinity stones works for me. I’m sure he and Peggy kicked Hydra ass across all sorts of parallel timelines and it was great. One quibble: I would have put that dance in Peggy’s office, I think it would have called back to Peggy’s arc in Agent Carter better.

11. SAM GOT THE SHIELD SAM GOT THE SHIELD SAM GOT THE SHIELD.

12. Bucky: I mean, I ship it too and all, but where Steve has been failing to move on forever, Bucky hasn’t. He’s got a whole life, and ultimately, the life he has in the films, rather than our hearts, hasn’t had a lot of Steve in it. I’m fine with letting the man go back to his goats in Wakanda. I trust that he and Steve have made their peace. And quite frankly I now ship Sam and Bucky like never before.

11. Natasha: I loved it. I loved her arc. Did you guys notice that she and Steve switched places in the movie. Steve pulled of a heist and an undercover mission, and ran off to find a life. Natasha became the leader of the avengers and sacrificed herself for her family. It was perfect. My only complaint is that I wanted more of what we got. If the cut out all the bits I didn’t like, we would have had time for a much longer ending for her, and also for Steve to see 2012!Natasha. I just rewatched Avengers and they hit it off so fast and I wanted that.

12. Tony: It was perfect. It hurt and everything about it was amazing. In some ways I feel like there isn’t much more to say, other than that I am choosing to believe that Tony’s extreme Dad skills have created an alternate timeline where Howard is a much better Dad. Also, while much gets made of Tony and Steve’s original disagreement (you’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play), I feel like that was basically resolved in Avengers itself. For several movies now Tony and Steve’s disagreement has been about trading freedom for safety, about the suit of armour around the world. And Tony cut the wire guys. He kept the world safe, and no one had to sacrifice but him, and he died surrounded by three people who were protecting the world in armour he made. And I bawled my eyes out and look forward to doing it again.

#endgame #endgame spoilers

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loverofpiggies · 6 years

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Hey that “Harold is Dead” AU

I’m gonna point you to a couple posts Here and Here about it because I want to give credit where credit is due, but I also wanted to write a fic about it because I had an idea, it doesn’t follow specifically how those posts are but I wanted to write how it would most likely happen so yes, this was written in one draft and copy/pasted so paragraphs are set up weird but oh well enjoy!

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It started out as an average night. The clouds were finally clearing up from the southern storms that passed through, and the twin moons peaked out from behind the thinning clouds.

It was getting rather late, but then again, Purple always tended to work late into the night in the labs, desperately trying to test his hypothesis, a long term underlying feeling of dread, in case his funding gets pulled. He was doing fantastically of course, but. This fear always stayed there, regardless. He'd probably be funded for years to come, if things kept going his way. He also had a tendency to glance at Archaeology reports in his spare time, with a growing interest in the subject he never had before.

It would be fun to leave the city for a while, and study ruins. It would be different, but it would be interesting.

His foot splashed in a puddle as he walked down the street, lamp candles flickering in the dull moonlight. Shivering against the cooler temps, he shoved his hands in his pockets, desperate to get home so late at night-- when he heard a strange laugh in the alley in front of him.

That laugh.... it seemed so familiar.

Purple edged close to the wall... and decided to peek over. It was only now, he registered the laugh as an angry, spiteful one. As if someone was becoming increasingly frustrated, and laughed to ease their own tensions... Purple squinted in the night, as he saw a figure snap and swat at someone in front of them. “I am FINE! Get off of me already!” “B-bro, you're hurt. They hurt ya pretty bad...” “I'm fine! It doesn't goddamn matter, I still kicked their asses--” The figures grew further into focus.... a strange redheaded man that Purple did not recognize in the slightest, stood over someone sitting against the wall with extremely frazzled, light brown hair. He had a few bruises on his face, and had a hat sitting next to him, but was not touching it.

“I. I know ya won. But- it's just- getting serious. I'm... I'm worried about ya.” “Worry about someone else.” Purple finally recognized the man sitting down... as his eyes widened in disbelief-- and he couldn't help speaking out.

“Wallis?”

The man sitting, snapped to attention as he glanced to the edge of the alley, slamming to his feet before stumbling. “Who the FUCK is there!?” He snapped. He looked even worse standing. His clothes were a wreck, his hair-- and the bruises on his face-- Purple couldn't believe it, and stood dumbfounded.

It was like slow motion.... Wallis stood there, blinking in the dark, before his eyes widened in recognition in return.

“....Purple?”

The two stood silent for a moment, as the strange redheaded man glanced between them, before slowly stepping back to give them their space.

To Purple, Wallis was almost unrecognizable. Wallis was always one to get into fights, true. But- he seemed to get worse and worse as time went on. Apparently, after.... well. After. The Incident-- Wallis became more brutal- stopped taking school seriously, and went out of his way to get into trouble with anyone who'd brawl with him.

Purple only met him after The Incident, and had no idea what Wallis was like before that. But, apparently he wasn't THIS bad. All Purple remembered.... was eventually, Wallis just- dropped out of school.

Finally, Wallis spoke again.

“...go away.” He spoke dully, as he turned from Purple, leaning back against the wall. Clearly, he was hurt pretty bad, as Purple stepped forward. “I.... you look- erm- it looks like that hurts. I can help-” “They're BRUISES, you can't really do jackshit except wait.” Wallis spoke, glaring back over.

Purple sensed Wallis might be a bit humiliated, so he glanced down, yet still took a couple steps closer to his old friend. Wallis had so much potential.... one of the smartest, most talented people Purple knew. To think he'd end up like this...

“I.... it. It's been a while.” Purple spoke, staring down.... as Wallis seemed tense as ever. “....yeah.” Purple glanced over to the redheaded man, blinking as he noticed.... the person with Wallis before had disappeared. “Huh? What happened to your friend....?” “My what?” “I- I saw some redhead here with you....” “Oh. That's Hobo. He disappears when he wants. Probably thought I wanted space or something now that you're here. Goddamnit.” Wallis spoke coldly, as the two stood a few feet apart, alone now in this alleyway.

Purple didn't know what else to say.... as they were silent a while, he just responded with-

“It's supposed to go below freezing tonight. Maybe.... you can stay the night, if you want.” Purple didn't expect an actual response. Wallis had fallen out of most people's lives- even his own mother's- a few years ago. No one had known what happened to him, since. Wallis was obviously avoiding everyone. So, he wouldn't say-

“Yes.” “What?”

“I said fine. If you're not going to leave me alone. Then fine.”

- - -

Wallis sat silently on Purple's couch, as both existed in an awkward, thick silence. There was so many things Purple wanted to ask, as he took off his coat and shoes. Purple actually had to grab Wallis's hat- Wallis didn't even seem to care if he had it come with or not. What had Wallis been doing all this time? Why was he so hurt? His clothes looked old and tattered, too. How long had it been since he'd gotten a new shirt? A new pair of pants? About the only thing Wallis had going, was he seemed to keep himself well shaven- he only had a soul patch, no beard growing...

Purple couldn't help but smile. He remembered Wallis used to think beards were disgusting. Wallis always said “I'd never let one of those THINGS grow on my face!”

He was so passionate about the stupidest things. It's why Purple liked him so much.

“I just pissed some people off.” Wallis spoke, making Purple jump out of his thoughts.

“What?” “The bruises- the fight. I just pissed some assholes off- like I always do. Still won... like I always do.” Wallis's voice seemed to grow a bit duller, as he looked away from Purple- the silence threatening to take over again.

Purple wouldn't let it. “You're still starting fights?”

“Yeah.”

“I. I'm sorry to hear it.”

“No you're not.”

“I am sorry, though.”

“That's the reaction people give when they don't know what else to SAY, Purple. That's like, conversations 101. It's so easy to tell when someone has run into a conversational WALL when they apologize about an awkward subject. It's like- if you were to tell me you like your job, but there's this ONE part of your job that's super shitty, but overall you're cool- and it makes this stupid silent period, I mean, what am I supposed to say?? It's conversational suicide, you committed conversational suicide.” “I-- holy shit-” Purple couldn't help but laugh. Wallis had always been stupidly dramatic. “I think you're overthinking that, Wallis.” “I'm just saying you asked a dumb question, and an OBVIOUS one, with an obvious response, I had no choices, this was no longer a conversation because you killed it.” “Oh my god you obnoxious asshole, shut up.”

“No.” “Also technically YOU halted the conversation by outright STATING this crazy concept that you still beat people up and so don't go blaming ME.” Wallis actually seemed to cover his mouth- trying to hide a laugh. “....yeah. I- well shit I guess I did start it.” Purple smiled in response, as Wallis finally glanced over to him.

They shared a moment, before Wallis turned away again, glancing at his nails. Even his nails looked terrible. Purple thought silently to himself, before he shut his eyes.... and stepping over to sit next to Wallis.

“You used to protect me all the time, Wallis. From all those assholes who picked on me.” “Well, they didn't pick on you LONG.” Purple laughed. “Yeah, that's true. Your mom was always so angry at you.” Wallis smiled again, that smile Purple realized he missed terribly all these years. “Mom has the worst temper. She was so angry when she'd get a call that I beat up some new kid. But- shit Purple, they were being DICKS!” “Ah hahaha, yeah, they really were!” Wallis turned to face Purple, eyes burning in a rage. “SOMEONE had to teach them some human decency! Their PARENTS sure as heck WEREN'T.” “Sometimes its not the parents, sometimes the kids are just terrible.” “Oh my god we are NOT getting into another argument, I swear all we do is argue!” “Wallis I haven't seen you in years, I'm not arguing. We're just talking, you know.” Wallis sighed frustrated, as he sat back against the seat of the couch. “Whatever.” Purple just rolled his eyes. Sure, Purple missed the guy, but- goddamn he never grows up and he's so STUBBORN and it's so annoying! Old habits die hard, apparently. Purple felt like Wallis had never left. Purple stared down.... feeling himself go cold. That's right.

Wallis left.

Shutting his eyes.... Purple had to say what was on his mind.

“.....Petunia misses you.” Wallis didn't even seem to bat an eye. “So.” “....so you haven't visited your MOM in years.” “I'm aware.” Wallis spoke coldly. Purple could tell the air was thickening again. But, he had to push through.

“You've missed her birthdays.” “I know.” “You UPSET her--” “I KNOW! SHUT UP.” Wallis snapped, glancing away.

Purple grit his teeth.... years of anger finding themselves back to the surface. “Me and Seaweed have gone every year. YOU haven't. You-- you haven't talked to her- or ME-” “Leave this ALONE, Purple--” “-you haven't even talked to SEAWEED, and she was your BEST friend!” “SHUT UP PURPLE I'M SERIOUS!” “NO!” Purple snapped to his feet, as Wallis did also, both glaring coldly at each other. “Do you have ANY idea how badly you've upset them!?” Purple spoke angrily, clenching his fits. He couldn't hold back- not after everything Purple has seen. “You just DISAPPEARED! Your mother hasn't heard a word, your BEST FRIEND-- ME-- no one!! No one knows where you've been!” Wallis tried to pull away, but Purple stepped closer, upset. “Purple BACK OFF-” “They had no idea what was going on with you!! They didn't know if you were okay, or--” “Purple stop it!” “-NO! Don't you care?! Don't you care that they CRIED FOR YOU?!” Purple finally snapped, as Wallis shoved him back furiously. “It's better then them DYING FOR ME!!!”

Purple and Wallis froze in silence, as Wallis stared down, his energy seeming to drain from his face.

“....I. I don't-- want them to die for me.” Wallis mumbled, as he slowly leaned back against the wall. Wallis's hat sat near the shoes, forgotten until now.... as Purple's eyes widened, glancing to the hat.

It....

It made sense.

Wallis... didn't bother to grab his hat. It was even sort of dinged up too- like. He didn't care....

….like he didn't care what happened to it...

“....I.” Wallis trembled against the wall,as Purple turned back over to face him.

“....I don't know-- what I'm capable of, Purple.” His voice was shaking....

“I-

I killed Harold.

I killed him.... I killed my only brother.

And I don't even know how I did it.” The Incident...

“I-- I'm scared-” Wallis spoke, as he slowly sat down, holding his face, gripping his hair tightly.

“I can't do it again. T-there....

There wasn't even anything LEFT of him--

I'm too dangerous--

people around me just--

they just- get hurt....”

Purple stood above his friend, watching Wallis collapse into misery in front of him. How often.... had Wallis actually confronted this? Purple learned about it.... but never through Wallis. Wallis virtually ignored it.... Wallis did everything he could, to ignore what happened to Harold.

Purple gently knelt down to Wallis- one of his oldest friends. And-- if Purple had to be honest... his first crush.

“.....It's not your fault.” “I-it is my f-fault. My brother-- what could he have become? W-would we have gotten a-along? He'd b-be an adult now-- who would h-he be? Would he still b-be shy? W-would—” Wallis couldn't take it anymore. He broke down into sobs, as Purple pulled forward, hugging him close.

For a split second, Purple was worried Wallis would shove him back, but-- Wallis just clung to Purple, tears unending, and Purple stayed right with him. Purple stayed with Wallis, as the hours ticked by, and as the tears dried up.

Purple stayed with Wallis, as he made Wallis eat. Purple stayed with Wallis, as Wallis reminisced about his brother. As Wallis broke down again, as Wallis picked himself back up, and as Wallis fell apart once more--

Purple stayed.

And, eventually. Wallis stopped crying. Eventually, Purple convinced him to sleep- and made Wallis take Purple's own bed- regardless of Wallis's protests.

And eventually... the sun began to rise, as Purple sat in the living room, far too exhausted to even think of sleeping on his old broken couch. But as he glanced back into his bedroom-- he saw Wallis, sleeping soundly. Purple couldn't help but smile as he glanced down. It was exhausting, but. Wallis.... finally opened up about it.

And- maybe somehow... this could be the beginning of his healing. Maybe.... Wallis could learn to start forgiving himself. Purple frowned. A therapist could probably help, too.

Sighing, Purple finally laid down on the couch, staring to the ceiling, his tired eyes blinking- trying to force themselves shut.

When he woke, maybe he'd call Petunia. Maybe- he'd convince Wallis to call Petunia. Maybe.... Seaweed could come over. Maybe Purple could help turn this around.

And in his last moments of consciousness... he heard someone- anyone, say two words.

“Thank you.”

#long post #gvchat #gloomverse #gloomverse fic #important #sure

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sublimebruisedcompliant · 6 years

Text

We'd been playing for a while, she and I. At first more on a "bdsm bootie call" basis, with basic and pretty straightforward scenarios, but as we met more often specific needs, desires, and fetishes came out. She really was a sadist, but had some conflict about it. And I made the mistake of admitting my deepest fetish, which was unfortunately very very compatible with her sadism.

In years of play, you see, I've mostly been with folks who were a little kinky but a LOT game to explore with me. That's great and all, but what I needed, what I really craved, was to be bound, used, hurt, controlled, etc., by someone who needed to hurt someone as much as I needed the bonds and bruises. In Sarah, I'd found just what I thought I needed, and she as well. I wanted and feared a hard caning, and she needed just as much to see me writhe under her rattan. The first time she showed me how wet my pain was making her, we both knew we'd be going deep. Turns out, my tears made her wetter. My begging made her even more excited. My willingness to abandon a safeword was like a drug to her, and so there I was, in deep and loving it.

She had an active imagination as well, so it was her who came up with most of the scenarios. A favorite was a sort of reverse interrogation, where she'd truss me up and hurt me while she made me beg her to explain her newest fantasies. She wanted to condition me, brainwash me. She wanted to piss on me. She wanted to keep me captive in increasingly longer scenes -- first, just overnight, but then entire weekends, and occasionally whole weeks as my work schedule allowed. A short bedroom session is one thing, but when the collar is locked on to start a 96 hour session, it's a very different thing. You start to lose yourself, your outside identity. You become only the slave, the bottom, the bitchboy, the pain pig.

Sarah loved this. She also love to point out that what we did wasn't "play." I mean, BDSM people call it that, but it's not play because there's nothing pretend about the cane welts. There's nothing pretend about being locked in a basement closet all night. There's nothing pretend about going to bed with the taste of urine in your mouth. And it's absolutely true that normal people -- nice people, she liked to say -- don't know anything about these experiences. Knowing the taste of urine separates you. Being reminded that you're a nasty thing that sleeps on the floor and gets beaten and pissed on pushes you further down the path.

It's easy to see how depersonalization would work. After the longer sessions, it was hard to get used to regular life. Sometimes, being dressed and clean felt like the costume -- and being cold, bruised and dirty felt more real.

I loved Sarah, in a sub's kind of way. I wanted to please her, to make her proud. When I took a hard beating, she'd praise me. When begged for punishment, she rewarded me. When I agreed to go deeper, to pass some prior boundary, she was clearly proud. But I also feared her. With the safeword gone, all I had was my belief that she'd never do something that would physically harm me.

Psychological damage, she liked to say, was both inevitable and desirable. She liked to taunt me, saying things like "eventually, you won't be able to go back. I'm looking into subliminal programming for you, did you know that? I'm going to take you, body and soul. You'll be so deep you'll have to move in permanently, and live this way forever. And you want that already, don't you?"

"Yes m'am." I knew better than to contradict her. Besides, it was at least partly true already.

"I've been thinking a lot about turning you out, did you know that?" I did not. This was new. "Last night I came over and over thinking about you getting fucked up the ass. Don't you like it when I peg you, boy?"

"Yes m'am."

"A real dick's a different thing, though, isn't it? For one thing, a man won't stop until he cums, and big rough men know how to last and last. How long do you think you could take it? An hour? Two?"

"Please m'am ...." But she was off to the races. Four more stripes on my thighs, and then she was in front me. Her hand was down her pants. She pulled it out and wiped the wetness on my face. She grabbed me, forced me to look at her. "God, I love that idea. You would lose your shit, wouldn't you? You know you'd have to suck them, too, don't you? I should just loan you out, and have them teach you how to swallow a cock properly. You gag too easily on the dildos, but I think a man would be able to motivate you."

"Oh my god please..." my voice was small. She ignored me.

"After all, how much more is there to take from you? Maybe a weekend in a leather daddy's dungeon is just what we need to make sure you know how good you've got it here. Maybe I'll let him keep you until you beg to stay with me full time. It'll be like you have a safeword, kinda. Won't that be fun?"

I was shaking. There was an edge to her voice; sure, lots of times she'd talk about things she wanted to do to me that were extreme -- branding, say, or ownership tattoos -- and make me beg for them, but mostly they were the realm of fantasy, employed to raise the intensity of things we already did. This time I was afraid she might really do it.

"I want you to think about it, boy. I want you to think about it a lot. Think about being a blindfolded little slave, given over to hard men who will choke you with their cocks until they're satisfied. Think about wide, thick dicks pushed into your ass with no warmup. Think about their hands holding you down, clamped on your neck, while they pound your ass. God, I'm getting so fucking horny talking about this!"

She dropped the cane, finally, and released the straps so she could shove me to the floor. Her jeans were off just as fast, and she was on my face, grinding her soaking wet pussy into my mouth. "Eat me, faggot." She was sweaty and hot, salty and musky. Sometimes, she'd forego a shower before seeing me, because she liked the idea of imposing herself on me. This was clearly one of those times. She pushed down harder, grinded more violently, and was quickly cumming. She even spurted a bit with the final cry, soaking my face.

She pushed up a bit so she could see my eyes again. "Oh, yes, boy, I like this idea a LOT. I'm going to make you a little faggot. And I bet the kind of man that'll want to break you in is also the kind of man who's good with his belt, too, don't you think?"

With that, she released her bladder. I opened, as trained, and swallowed what I could. She stood and kicked me until I crawled towards the usual cage. The door closed with a clang and a click. She looked down at me, naked and bruised and filthy. "Hands." I knew the drill. I could sleep in the cage if I wasn't fettered, but sometimes she liked to up the ante a bit. With my hands locked outside the cage, neither sleep nor comfort was possible. I complied with a whimper. "Oh, no. No rest for you. If you rest, it's harder to make you cry. And you want to cry for me, don't you?"

"Yes m'am."

"Good boy," she said as she smiled at me. A hood was next, surprisingly easy to manage through the bars, and then a thick collar. I knew this one; it was a shock collar from a pet store, designed for larger breeds. Sometimes she'd put it on just to fuck with me, and never actually shock me. This time, I got a quickie to remind me it was there. "I fucking LOVE this thing. I barely have to lift a finger to make you suffer! That's so cool!" Another zap. I yelped.

"See you soon, pet." I heard her leave, and lock the door behind her. I was alone.

It wasn't all active pain and degradation with her, you see; she was also a fan of the long night alone. Left alone in the dark and unable to sleep long enough, and the prisoner loses touch with self. Sleep deprivation is a reliable torture tactic in authoritarian regimes for a reason, after all. Moments become hours. 3 or 4 hours in the cage and I was desperate for interaction. I'd beg, out loud, knowing she had a monitor in the room. She'd wait hours more, I was sure, before granting me any release. I'm almost certain she'd edge herself listening to my cries until she couldn't stand it anymore, and only then come down to "play" with me again.

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bloodycalligraphy · 6 years

Text

multi-purpose-tool-guy replied to your post:

im just gonna.... scoot in here and uh..... enable you..... scoot scoot....

OK hear me out. Here’s some TLJ-based Kylux mpreg thoughts.

I think Snoke always knew Kylo was the knock-off brand of what he really wants. That Kylo is broken by the fact that he FEELS SO MUCH and he lets his feelings drag him around even though he clearly wishes he wasn’t like this. He was probably always like this.

And Hux? Hux is useful but Hux lacks the sort of power that Kylo has by birth and breeding. Also he’s an absolutely sucking void of a human being with bile where other people have blood. He’s easy enough to control, but mostly exactly as you would a dog — reward it when it’s good and make sure it knows you could beat it if it’s not. Watch the teeth. Don’t take your eyes off it.

They’ll be steps to power, but are they really going to be heirs to his vision? Or are they the tools he’ll use until he can get better, shinier, less buggy and broken ones?

I’d like to thank the Rlos who want Rey to “continue the Skywalker line” because that sure sounds like the exact sort of shit you could feed Kyle Ron to make him do some Fucking Weird Shit and well, General, just lie back and think about the Empire. Kyle has probably never seen junk that wasn’t his own and the one Knight that he kissed once got sent out by Snoke to some planet acid-spitting worms and came back with their lips melted shut by scar tissue. And frankly I’m not sure anyone has ever in his life taught Hux that sex is about anything other than Power and Pain.

Anyway, Kyle over here’s like literally twice as wide as Armie, so obviously he’s got the space in that refrigerator-size torso for whatever demonspawn comes out of this.

Throw in some Force garbage about how if Kylo doesn’t spend a certain amount of time around Hux regularly he feels like he’s gonna puke his kidneys out because this INCREDIBLY FORCE SENSITIVE fetus would like to vibe with whatever weird vibes Hux gives off. Actually they’re probably very chill. Since he’s only got one (1) emotion: Hatred. And he’s got a boss and a PAIN IN THE ASS who can read his mind, I’m sure the inside of his brain is WMD blueprints and elevator music most of the time.

So they chill. They don’t... like each other? But maybe they realize that they’ve made some misjudgments and now they’re actually even better prepared to murder each other.

Hux starts researching weapons that a lightsaber can’t block. Force-resistant materials. He starts packing a couple extra energy blades on his body at all times. He buys a slug-shooting rifle and starts carrying it damn near everywhere.

Kylo is still gonna be killing his dad and getting gut-shot by a wookie and finding the true power of hatred after THE ANGRIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD hands him his own ass on a platter, obviously. You could stuff a whole watermelon in that boy and it would not slow him down. But it’s fucking with his head. Are his priorities... right? What does it all mean? Existential crisis with a side of his body literally doesn’t belong to him and he didn’t choose this at any point and WHY IS HE DOING ANY OF THIS AT ALL

Things explode. Things still very, very much explode.

And that’s going to be rather important, really, because Hux knows he can rebuild a planet-sized weapon and he can buy a new warship and he can train a hundred thousand more child soldiers. Every life except his own is replaceable and it always, always has been.

And Kylo is thinking obsessively about family, about his parents, about his childhood, about his life and where it has lead him, about right and wrong, light and dark.

But all things must come to an end? And the boy sith who would be supreme leader doesn’t have enough time to telepathically tell Rey NOT to swing by really not a good time right now.

Kylo gets his guts excavated by unfeeling, uncaring medical robots because this is a hideous dystopia of reproductive rights or something. Hux is there because, well, he’s a little bit of a sadist everyone knows that. That’s the only possible reason he could be there, isn’t it?

Haha no. He’s gonna make eye contact with that blue-eyed, screaming creature and all the crazy in that heavily hair-gelled head is gonna skew in exactly the expected ways. Because, well, he can BUILD another weapon. He can BUILD another army. But he can’t BUILD a fucking baby. Or well, he could, but it wouldn’t be this exact baby, now would it? And honestly, honestly? Why would he build any other? This one is PERFECT. He made that and it’s his and he would rather drown in his own blood than let anyone hurt it.

(See? He’s not his father after all. He cannot even understand his father in this moment. He has always known himself to be weak and sought to protect himself. Now here is the weakest imaginable version of himself and he feels that same urge. It’s his and he will protect it or he will die. That has always been the only two options.)

And Kylo wakes up with his internal organs rearranged and stapled back together to see a fucking armed sociopath holding HIS CHILD and nearly kills Hux right then and there except if he died then he would definitely drop the baby and if Kylo sits up too fast his spleen is gonna pop out probably.

They don’t even have to talk about things or lie to each other because they have spent a stupid amount of time with one another and they know. The fear in Hux now is the same fear that is swallowing Kylo up like a howling cyclone.

So they go to Snoke and it seems very much like Hux will betray Kylo like the untrustworthy dog that he is and Kylo will stay the loyal and steady servant of the darkness, but Kylo is a nest of serpents held together by medical tape. And all of Hux’s research? Well, if you want to blow the most powerful Force user you’ve ever met’s head off his ugly shoulders? You might need a real firearm and some Force-resistant bullets.

Cue a very different fight against the Praetorian Guard. Rey shows up twenty minutes late with Starbucks to a room full of corpses and fire and Kylo “Ben Solo” Ren trying to hold his torso together while Armitage “General Hugs” Hux looks increasingly red-faced and distressed at a very small and screaming baby.

No lightsabers explode.

No one’s around to sign the paperwork on DJ’s deal so he fucks off on the first ship he can break into while Phasma’s calls keep going directly to Hux’s voicemail.

The Resistance makes it to Crait safely and Holdo does not explode anything and Rose does not have to contemplate kicking 500,000 stormtroopers to death with her own two feet. (I mean she doesn’t, but she still DOES.)

Phasma’s call goes through.

“Hey I’ve got two big Resistance morons and a soccer ball.”

“Cool. We killed the Supreme Leader and also it’s a girl.”

“Congratulations, sir. Does she have a name?”

“Not yet, I was a little busy.”

Rey watches Kylo get increasingly pale. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he says.

Hux remembers that someone helped MAKE this baby and she’s probably fond of him or something. Maybe Hux is fond of him. He’s not sure yet exactly. But he would probably shoot the scavanger girl if she hurt him. Of course, he would probably shoot her anyway, y’know? Just because.

Chewbacca is sort of waiting for Rey to come back.

He does not expect her to come back in the company of the First Order’s three most powerful leaders and also Rose, Finn and a VERY ANGRY BB-8.

Also there’s a baby? It’s a very cute baby. She’s got Ben’s nose already.

“What’s her name?” he asks.

“Haven’t decided,” Kylo Ren says at the same time Rey says, “I don’t know.”

They glare at each other. Chewie does not smack Kylo upside the back of his head simple because it looks right now as though a stiff wind would knock him over just as well. Also, well, he wouldn’t have helped Rey with this COMPLETELY INSANE PLAN if he didn’t think Ben Solo could still come home.

He can’t. Really. This is not Ben Solo going to his mother. This is Kylo Ren going to General Organa with three and a half hostages and a burning desire to get some war criminals off the hook.

(Maybe DJ does a nice thing and leaves something explosive behind when he goes. Or he gives the whole First Order a computer virus or something. They’d deserve it.)

Anyway, Hux probably is still set on handing his daughter the whole known universe and does something incredibly stupid like pull a gun on Leia and gets every blaster in the room pointed at him while he’s holding the infant Skywalker scion. Kylo forcibly (haha) disarms everyone in the room and gently sets Hux on his damn fool ass and not so gently shuts his jaw so tight he can barely breathe. But he can still breathe.

This still unnamed baby is going to be a princess in a world where everyone won’t be trying to kill her all the time, isn’t that good enough for you? (It isn’t, actually, but Hux can make world domination a back-up plan for at least the next two hours.)

Phasma refuses to take off her helmet. Or talk to anyone.

Rey is going to loudly insist that they’re not that bad — and they have a baby! They can’t be bad? At least the baby is probably not bad!

Leia is going to call Kylo “Ben” and so everyone else is going to follow suit as he bleeds internally and hates them all. He would still stab his uncle if he saw him.

(MAYBE HE DOES HAHA.)

Does Phasma particularly care if her life’s work is sacrificed on the altar of peace? Uh, as long as she still has her LIFE, not particularly.

Empires, warships, armies can be rebuilt. The universe is always going to be there to conquer. Right? And "princess” doesn’t seem like such a bad title, really, when it’s his baby girl.

Kylo is still an angry, bitter sack of vipers. Hux now has two emotions and they’re both terrifying and involve firearms. Not saying they “fall in love,” but they do practice kissing and trade insults that are maybe affectionate? Hux kills more than one person who tries to get at Kylo with his bare hands and a energy blade. They try extremely hard to be good parents.

Phasma takes her immunity and fucking RETIRES to make LOTS OF MONEY doing what she’s GOOD AT which is fighting and not dying.

Anyway they name the baby Padme. She has a COMPLETELY HIDEOUS temper and blue eyes like her great-grandfather.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#this is a bad post #cw mpreg #cw gore?#cw violence #this is not a fic this is me being me

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paisleywraith · 6 years

Text

Curses, Curses. Chapter 6

Junior year is often considered the most difficult year of high school. Kyle would agree with that on a regular day, he didn’t need some magical bullshit wriggling its fingers at him and turning him into an ass-old Bill Murray movie reboot.

Kenny, again, took everything very well.

Although he looked startled when Kyle immediately told him he needed help from him, Kenny reacted- pretty much how he had the day previous. Which was both great and made him extremely uncomfortable.

He took it well the next day, too.

And the next day.

And the third day.

“We’ve been meeting for three days?” Kenny asked, wrapped up in a fleece blanket Kyle always brought for when Kenny first came out of the cold into his car.

“Yeah.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Kenny watched him closely.

“And…what did we decide so far?”

Kyle bit his lip. He glanced up, watching students file into the school. The same students, the same clothes, in the same order. Always going about their business, going to the same classes they’d already been to and saying the same things they already said and no one, no one knew but Kyle that they’d be doing in again the next day and the day after and the day after that-

“Ky?”

Kyle jumped.

“Sorry, sorry.” Kenny apologized gently. The tone automatically calmed Kyle down, which irritated him as well.

“I don’t know what to do.” Kyle traced the emblem on his steering wheel. The ideas had ranged from trying to talk to someone specific, go somewhere specific, do nothing, a bunch of ideas that went absolutely nowhere.

“Have you-” Kenny paused a moment, wrapping the blanket more tightly around himself. “You haven’t- gotten hurt or anything, have you?”

Kyle squawked, a very un-cool noise that burst out without his permission. “Are you telling me I need to try to die?”

“No!” Kenny was quick to answer. “No. I was just asking.”

“Well I’m not that desperate yet.” Kyle shrank a bit in his seat. He watched a particularly loud group try to jump over a bench and fall. “Not- not yet.”

Kenny said nothing.

Kyle eventually look over when the blond offered nothing more to say. To his surprise, Kenny actually looked visibly upset. He was chewing on his fingernails, and Kyle reached over to shove his hand away from his mouth.

“Let’s go get Stan,” Kenny said, not addressing the smack to the wrist.

“What?” Kyle hadn’t confided in Stan since the…second day? Third day? He was already forgetting.

“Let’s go get Stan,” Kenny repeated. “I’m not sure what else I can do. Maybe he has an idea.”

“Why Stan?” Kyle asked, bewildered. For some reason the suggestion made him uncomfortable.

“You guys used to be close, Ky.” Kenny said with a roll of his eyes. “I think he’d like to help you.”

“What do you mean used to be close?” Even Kyle’s hair seemed to bristle. “Stan and I are close.”

“Right, right.” Kenny soothed in a manner that made Kyle want to scream. “I just meant you used to be closer, babe. Like- hanging out everyday. Before you got busy, you career-driven dorkasaurus, you.”

Kyle glared. Kenny didn’t seem to care. “He might put me in a mental hospital or something.”

“Nah, I won’t let him.” Kenny smiled, something in his eyes striking Kyle as strange. The whole diverted commentary about him not being close unnerved him. “Wanna go get him?”

Kyle’s shoulders fell. “Yeah.”

“He comes in the side entrance. By that stupid sculpture-thing they put in.” Kenny gestured. “Go park by the curb. We’ll grab him when he heads in.”

Kyle obediently switched the car into drive and glanced over his shoulder before heading to the entrance. He took a breath, clicking his fingernails against the steering wheel.

“What are we going to tell him?” Kyle asked, eyes on the street to avoid running over the assholes who didn’t look before crossing. “So he doesn’t freak out?”

“We’re gonna tell him we’re having a skip day,” Kenny said, locking his fingers behind his neck, “And you’re going to drive around while we convince him we aren’t crazy.”

“Great.”

“I think so!”

Kyle huffed, a slight smile curving his lips. “There he is, go get him, then.”

Kenny nodded, and then opened the door to stick his head out.

“HEY, MARSH!”

“I could have done that, you nitwit.”

Stan looked over, soft brown eyes locking on the car and the two inside it. With a word to his friend he was walking with, he jogged over to where Kenny sat triumphantly and Kyle looked ready to shove his passenger out into a snowbank.

“Hey, guys.” Stan’s gaze flit between them. “What’s going on?”

“Get in.” Kenny’s eyes were sparkling. “His Royal Academia has agreed to skip school today.”

Stan’s eyebrows migrated to near his hairline, looking around Kenny to face Kyle for confirmation.

Kyle lifted a shoulder, face slightly red. “Just get in, Stan.”

The brunet only paused for a couple minutes before he plopped into the backseat, tossing his backpack beside him.

“Away, chauffer.” Kenny waved his hand regally. Kyle smacked his shoulder before pulling out of the parking spot.

“…This is weird,” Stan commented, pulling his hat off his head. His hair stuck up wildly, not that he seemed to notice. “Kenny, why are you wearing a blanket?”

The blond nearly beamed. “Kyle was fussing over me. Thought I looked cold.”

“I don’t fuss.” Kyle grumbled under his breath at the two, face turning darker.

“Yeah, you do.” Stan said at the same time Kenny snorted. Kyle gave Stan a look via the rearview mirror.

“I don’t, I-” Kyle didn’t mean for them to even hear, he just wanted to protest. “He’s too tall for my jackets so I grabbed a blanket is all.”

“Where’s my blanket?” Stan demanded, making Kenny start giggling like a madman.

“Fuck off, guys.”

“Why are you playing favorites? I thought we were friends, Kyle!”

Kenny snuggled smugly into his seat, watching Kyle blush and Stan grin as he heckled him.

“So Kyle is stuck in some kinda time loop.”

Kyle smacked his palms on the steering column. “Really, Kenny?”

“Huh?” Stan’s smile slipped off his face. Kenny’s expression turned serious and he flipped around to look Stan in the eyes.

“Kyle is experiencing the same day. Like, over and over.” Kenny’s brows furrowed. “The day ends and he wakes up Thursday again.”

Stan looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Uh…like déjà vu?”

“No, like I can’t make Thursday end.” Kyle finally spoke up, heart beating somewhere in his throat. “I wake up Thursday. I go through the day. I go to sleep. It’s Thursday again and I do something else. Day ends. Fucking Thursday.”

The boy stared at Kyle, expression somewhere between concern and terror.

“I believe him.” Kenny’s voice interrupted the pressing quiet.

“You do?” Stan looked over at him again. “You guys aren’t punking me?”

“I’m really not, Stan.” Kyle’s voice was firm but his hands were trembling. Kenny patted him on the shoulder. He took a breath. “I know it sounds crazy. But I can’t- I can’t get past today. I’m running out of ideas.”

“He thought maybe you could help him,” Kenny supplied.

Stan looked both touched and afraid. “Oh.”

Kyle was more or less just driving around aimlessly. He couldn’t sit still, his heart was pulsing in his head.

“I don’t know how much help I’d be,” Stan said nervously. “If you’re really trapped in some kind of…supernatural wormhole of time or something.”

Kyle made a noise of protest. “You’re making me sound crazy.”

“This is kinda crazy, dude.”

“Ky’s no crazier than normal.” Kenny said cheerfully. “You believe him, don’t you Stan?”

Stan fidgeted, tugging at his cloth gloves. “I mean…I believe Kyle believes it.”

Kyle shot him a scowl and Kenny nodded thoughtfully.

“Good start, Stanny-boy. A good start.”

“Okay,” Stan crossed his legs and twisted his hat in his hands. “So you’re stuck in time. Wow. Okay. Uh…” He scratched his chin. “What started it?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle said, feeling more and more agitated. “Nothing weird happened the day before. Nothing at all.”

“Park!” Kenny called out suddenly, making Kyle slam on the brakes.

The curly-haired boy whirled on Kenny, ready to verbally tear him apart for scaring him over something mundane but the boy was already speaking.

“Pull over here, you can’t talk if you’re driving.” Kenny was already clicking his seatbelt off. “Pull over, Kyle, let’s go!”

“Am I your fucking Uber driver or some shit now?” Kyle growled as he obeyed. “Goddamn it, Kenny.”

The blond scrambled out, jumping for the swings and standing on them like a moron, blanket waving like a cape.

Kyle watched him in bewilderment, and Stan hopped out of the car to grab Kyle’s sleeve.

“Are you really serious about this?” Stan asked, leaning to stare up at Kyle from under girlishly-long eyelashes.

“Yes, Stan.” Kyle watched Kenny swinging easily, not even watching the two. “I’m trapped. It sucks. I’m losing my fucking mind and I’m scared to shit I’m going to be stuck like this forever.”

“Okay,” Stan said for the umpteenth time. His fingers twisted into Kyle’s sleeve more insistently. “How many days have you got?”

“Like- nine? Ten?” Kyle looked uncomfortable, sinking onto a bench. “I can’t record them. I’m starting to forget.”

Stan was quiet a moment. “That’s- really fucking scary, Kyle.”

“Yeah.”

Kenny jumped off the swings and trotted over, blanket still around his shoulders.

“Alright, if we’re sitting here like adults,” Kenny complained, moving to sit cross-legged on the frozen ground. “Whatcha think, Stan?”

The brunet shrugged, pulling his hat back on. His whole expression radiated a kind of pity that was making Kyle nervous.

“It’s…hard to believe,” Stan said carefully. “And really freaky. I think I’d go crazy.”

“I’m about to,” Kyle said miserably.

“When did you tell Kenny?”

Kyle glared down at the boy who was smiling up at the two. “Like the third day.”

“Wow,” Stan said, fighting off a smile. “Way to keep me in the loop.”

“I told you right after and you thought I was fucking crazy,” Kyle said frostily. “I was in a hospital against my will. I told you both the first day and neither of you seemed to believe me.”

Both Kenny and Stan looked surprised at that, the former frowning and Stan cringing.

“I was- I was kidding Kyle, sorry.”

“Yeah, well don’t.” Kyle rubbed his eyes. “Not about this. Please.”

Stan looked so apologetic that Kyle couldn’t even muster a glare, and Kenny spoke up soothingly.

“He’s just trying to lighten the mood, Kyle, relax.”

The Jewish boy was not in the mood to be soothed.

“Don’t tell me to fucking relax!” Kyle said, and Stan immediately groaned as he saw where this was going. “I’m going fucking crazy over here, let’s skip the jokes about this, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Kenny waved his fingers at him with what was clearly trying to be a charming smile. “Chill, I didn’t m-”

“Stop telling me to chill!” Stan pulled at Kyle’s sleeve but the honors student shrugged him off. “Stop talking about it!”

Kenny closed his mouth, a look of annoyance crossing his face before he shrugged. “Okay.”

Kyle didn’t like that either, and fought down the urge to push the ass into the snow. Stan was looking between them, biting his lip between his teeth as the other boys locked eyes and held them.

“I’m gonna go grab something,” Kenny said suddenly, standing up easily and dropping the blanket into Kyle’s lap. “See you guys, okay?”

The two watched him stalk off, Kyle with ferocity in his green-brown eyes and Stan with concern.

“You pissed him off, Kyle.” Stan gently pointed out.

“Why?” Kyle demanded, whirling around. “I just don’t want to- it’s scary, I’m fucking scared, I don’t want it to be a joke, okay?”

“I get it! I get it,” Stan reassured him. “But dude, Kenny’s really on edge about this. You said he believed you.”

“Yeah. Right off.”

“Well, he’s probably worried or some shit. You know Kenny, he uses humor to make anything he finds uncomfortable better.”

“Yeah,” Kyle couldn’t disagree with that. “But it really isn’t helping. I didn’t want him to fucking leave, I wanted him to just stop- stop talking about it like that.”

“He’s taking it seriously,” Stan said in a wild move of understanding. “He isn’t making fun of you.”

Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “I know.”

Both of the boys were quiet, Kyle burying his cold fingers in the blanket resting on his lap. It just- he was afraid, and he hated feeling afraid, and he just wanted the topic dropped forever. Only he couldn’t. He just kept reliving and reliving and reliving again.

“I believe you, Kyle.” Stan’s voice was gentle.

“…Thanks.” Kyle swallowed.

Stan sat next to him, neither saying a word. As far as plans went, there really wasn’t any to make. Kyle had known that deep down. There wasn’t anything they could do. What anyone could do.

At least it was comforting to have Stan not looking at him like he lost his mind. Not that it would matter. Tomorrow it would just begin again, and Kyle was starting to feel more alone than ever.

#sp k2 #k2 #kenny mccormick #kyle x kenny #kyle broflovski #PaisleyWrites #Stan's back and Kyle has another friend for a while #Split this one up too #Probably will post another tomorrow but I'm working overtime so idk

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