#petition to slap whoever came up with that one

[the-iceni-bitch]

𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 ℐ ℒℴ𝓈ℯ ℳ𝓎 ℬ𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓉𝒽

Relationship: amazon!lawyer Natasha Romanoff x petite!curvy female reader (Big Red and Peach, NLLYL AU)

Words: ~5.2k

Summary: You and Nat don’t even realize how badly you need each other until you finally meet. But even then, you don’t take the plunge without meddling from your asshole friends.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (f/f sex, f receiving oral sex, multiple orgasms, mommy kink), idiots in love, meet cute, slow burn, drunk awkward flirting, age gap (not explicitly stated but it’s there), size difference, fluff, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: YAAAAAHHH! They are adorable and stupid and sweet and I need all of you to love them as much as I do, they are so precious. This new branch of the NLLYL AU is gonna kill me, just wait until we meet Thor…

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You grumbled to yourself as you downed another shot of tequila, glaring at the bottom of the glass and then at Sam when he tried to walk away with the bottle.

“Hey… uh oh.” Darcy’s smile fell when she wandered up to you and saw the look on your face, eyeing Sam warily when he poured you another shot and shrugged at her. “I was hoping to meet that date of yours, where’d he wander off to?”

“Dunno.” You took another shot and frowned to yourself as you adjusted the front of your costume. “But some leggy blonde bitch was with him.”

“Oh no…” Darcy decided to forego the ‘told you so’ for now since you were drunk, but she had warned you that dudes that were willing to admit they might have overlapped the relationship they had before with yours probably shouldn’t be trusted. “Fuck him, honey.”

“Fuck all men.” You toasted no one and tossed back another shot, nodding to Sam when you slammed your glass on the bar and leaning on Darcy pretty heavily as you waited for him to refill you. “Except you, Sammy, you’re great. And so is Bucky. That big sweetheart.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam reached out whip fast to catch you before you toppled off your bar stool, sighing when you giggled and tried to disguise a heave as a cough. “Maybe you should slow down, baby girl.”

“Hey.” You scowled adorably as you pawed at his chest, slapping his cheek in what you had meant to be an affectionate pat before sighing deeply. “You wanna end up on my shitlist? No? Then keep ‘em coming. Where is Bucky?”

“He’s over in the hall but maybe…” Darcy hissed when you started wobbling away, chasing after you as you sang to yourself and shooting an exasperated look at Sam. “Baby, you need to drink some water.”

“I’m fine, shut up.” You saw Bucky and clapped, pushing Darcy away when she attempted to corral you. “Hiya Buck! I missed you.”

“Did you… wow.” Bucky caught you when you stumbled, chuckling when you breathed a tequila thick cloud right in his face and giving you a moment to find your feet. “I think you took the drunk pirate costume a little too close to heart, honey. Where’s your date?”

“God, it’s like being at a party with my parents.” You rolled your eyes and tried to remain steady when you felt the shots starting to really hit you. “Probably sucking the face off some blonde bitch, we’ve decided he sucks.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Bucky tweaked your nose when you blew a raspberry at him, turning his head when someone walked up and making you huff at the lack of attention. “Hey Nat.”

“Hi Buck, brought you another beer.”

You were fully prepared to tell whoever was taking up your much needed Bucky time to fuck off, but then you came face to… chest with the most incredible set of tits you’d ever seen in your life. There was only a moment for you to drunkenly scold yourself for that thought, because then you were looking up and up and up and…

“Wow, you’re pretty.” You forgot all about Bucky, grinning sloppily and almost careening over so your face really was in those amazing breasts before her hand was on your waist and you were giggling. “Really really pretty. Why haven’t I met you?”

“Oh, Bucky’s been hiding me, I’m shy.” Nat grinned at her friend over your shoulder when you tried to bat your eyelashes at her but it didn’t quite work since your eyelids were drooping, shaking her head when he gave her an inquisitive look and steadying you with a firm grip on your shoulders. “But he’s been hiding you too, I think. Look at how fucking cute you are.”

Your laugh almost hurt your ears, it was much more shrill than you had intended, a cackle really. Nat didn’t seem to mind though, beaming at you when you slapped her chest then apologized for feeling her up while you tried to step even closer to her.

“Stop, you can’t call me cute.” And she smelled amazing, she was like the warrior princess of your dreams. “Not when you’re walking around like a fucking wet dream. Seriously, why haven’t I met you?”

“Cutie, you’re gonna make me blush.” Nat shushed you when you giggled even more, taking a glass of water when Darcy handed it to her and holding it up to your lips. “I’ve just been busy. Now, why don’t you be a good girl for me and drink some water?”

“Mmmm, you call me a good girl and I’ll do whatever you want.” You gulped down water as she looked at you expectantly, leaning into her touch and sighing heavily when she took the glass away. “Oh my god, let’s go do karaoke!”

“Good morning!” Darcy dropped the greasy burrito bag in front of you and chuckled when you heaved and buried your head in your arms. “How are we feeling today?”

“I shouldn’t be at work.” You winced when you picked your head up and the lights made your brain throb, grumbling as you pulled your breakfast out of the bag and started unwrapping it. “Why did you let me have tequila?”

“You forget that no one ‘lets’ you do anything.” Darcy sank into the chair next to yours and logged on, still giving you that shit eating grin that you hated. “All of us tried numerous times to get the tequila away from you and you always tried to scratch our eyes out. How much of last night do you remember?”

“I remember Troy being a fucking douchebag, setting up at the bar, and then…” you froze with a mouthful of burrito when panic started to set in, heat flushing through your whole body as you barely remembered to swallow your food and images from last night flashed through your head. “Did… did I hit on Bucky’s best friend?”

“Oh, you did more than that.” You didn’t even notice Darcy’s chuckling, too horrified at yourself to smack her like you normally would. “You serenaded her. You practically gave her a lap dance while you sang ‘Do You Wanna Touch’, I have it on video if you want to see.”

“Nooooooooo…” you were going to run away and become a mountain hermit, you could not believe you had made such an ass out of yourself in front of probably the most beautiful woman on the planet who was so much older than you and tall and put together and that was it, your life was over.

“Yes, it was a great time, everyone enjoyed it.” Darcy gave you a pat on the back when you sobbed and banged your head against the desk. “It’s fine, everyone will call you Joan Jett for a couple of weeks and then one of the guys will do something stupider and they’ll forget all about it.”

“But I won’t forget, oh my fucking god!” You vaguely remembered the gorgeous redhead helping you into your Uber and smiling at you when you told her you were going to climb her like a tree and call her mommy, and suddenly it felt like your burrito was about to come back up. “How the fuck am I supposed to face Bucky?!?!?”

“Hi Joan!” Damn it, it was like you’d summoned him, at least his smile was tinged with sympathy when he handed you a bottle of Gatorade. “How’s your head?”

“Who cares, Bucky!” You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. “Please tell me I didn’t sexually harass your friend to the point where she never wants to see you again.”

“Nat? Don’t worry about her, she had a great time.” You couldn’t decide if that should make you feel better or worse. “Said if all my parties with coworkers are like that she’s gonna have to try to make it to every single one of them.”

“Of course she did.” You hated your life, you were going to give up drinking and sex and only get your enjoyment from food from now on. “Who wouldn’t have a good time watching someone make an absolute buffoon out of themselves while they’re shit faced? Please tell me I never have to face that woman?”

Bucky was about to reassure you when the door behind him opened suddenly and you squeaked and dove under the desk, looking over his shoulder and sighing when Nat was there. She looked relaxed and incredibly pleased with herself, nodding at Bucky when he sighed with exasperation and coming to lean on the counter right above where you were hiding while she chuckled as you asked if she was gone yet.

“Hey, cutie?” Nat was trying not to laugh too much when you squeaked again then whined when the table thumped after you cracked your head against it. “Sweetheart, I think you might be missing your wallet.”

You were, you hadn’t been able to find it this morning and ended up hopping the turnstile so you could make it to work on time. Nat was giving you what you could only describe as a look of warm amusement when you finally crawled out from underneath the desk to face her, she was so gorgeous, and you looked like warmed over vomit, this was potentially the worst day of your life. She was holding your wallet between two fingers as she smirked at you, watching you closely while you took it from her and biting her lip in a way that didn’t make you feel anything.

“Where did you find it?” She was freaking you out, you couldn’t get a read on her.

“Hmm, you gave it to me.” You had shoved it down the front of her costume, but seeing how small you looked right now made her think it might not be the best idea to bring that fact up. “You said you were going to give me your card and told me to call you, then gave me the whole wallet.”

“My card? It’s not the nineties.” You hated your life. “Thank you for bringing it back, you could’ve just given it to Bucky, though.”

“But then I couldn’t have seen you again.” That smile was going to knock you on your ass, she was so unnerving. “And I’d take any excuse to see a pretty thing like you.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed when she winked at you, what a fucking tease. “Don’t flirt with me, I already feel like shit.”

“That’s not what I want, sweetheart.” She couldn’t get enough of that sassy look on your face, just wanted to eat you up. “You should feel good all the time.”

“Bucky, tell your friend I have to work.” You tried not to feel too warm and bubbly when she kept grinning at you, play flirting was not what you needed right now. “But thank her for bringing my wallet back.”

“You are so very welcome, sweet girl.” She shook her head as she straightened back up. “Pretty as a peach. Let’s go get some coffee, Barnes. You ladies want anything?”

“No thanks.” Darcy still had that damn grin on her face once they were gone and now you were itching to smack her. “Um, why were you rude to someone who was clearly hitting on you?”

“She was not hitting on me.” You snorted as you started digging back into your burrito and focusing on your screen. “Have you seen her? She’s an amazon sex goddess, she’s not going to hit on me.”

“You… oh my god, you’re so fucking stupid.” Darcy wanted to bang her head against the wall, you were too stubborn for your own good. “She’s into you.”

“No she’s not.”

“She is, you fucking moron.”

“She is not, you balloon chested bimbo.”

“Hey!” Darcy balled up a tissue and threw it at you, sticking her tongue out when you scowled at her. “That was mean, you lollipop guild reject. And yes she is.”

“You wanna tell me what exactly you’ve been doing these past few months?” Bucky frowned at Nat when she tried to act like she was paying attention to the game behind him and sipped her beer innocently.”

“Not quite sure what you mean.” She knew exactly what he meant, but she wasn’t going to admit to anything when he was giving her that stern father look.

“Uh-huh.” Bucky loved her, but getting the woman to open up was like trying to crack a walnut with his bare hands. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around the precinct so much since I started there.”

“I’m just helping my clients.” She should’ve ordered vodka if she knew the conversation was heading this way. “It’s my job.”

“Every single client that comes through the 82?” Bucky tapped the bar top while she still avoided his gaze. “Because I seem to remember Matt and Maria handling most of them, since you’re the face of the firm.”

“Excuse me for taking a more hands on approach.” Nat managed to flag down the bartender and finally ordered her vodka. “I’m a philanthropist.”

“You’re full of shit.” Bucky rolled his eyes when she just shrugged. “You need to spend so much time at the front desk every time you come in?”

“I have to fill out paperwork.” She sipped on her new drink and sighed as she finally turned her attention to him. “And it’s nice chatting with the girls.”

“Both of them?” He tried not to grin when she blushed and stared at the bottom of her glass, reaching out to cover her hand with his and giving her a small squeeze. “Natasha, you haven’t slept with anyone in two months.”

Nat hated when Bucky looked at her like that, like he knew all her secrets better than she did. Of course she’d been hanging around the precinct and flirting like an idiot, she couldn’t stop thinking about you. Feisty, sassy, ‘take no shit from anyone’ you. Everything about you was so fucking cute, especially when you gave her that massive fucking attitude whenever she flirted with you. All she wanted was to pick you up and kiss you stupid to get you to quit running that smart mouth. She thought she’d done a good job of hiding her feelings, though.

Damn Bucky for being able to read her like a damn book.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” It meant everything, she loved sex, but she didn’t want to have it with anyone else. “I’m busy.”

“Would you quit lying.” Bucky leaned forward and bonked her head with his, smiling when she pouted at him and kissing her cheek. “You have big feelings for the little lady, so why don’t you admit it and finally ask her out?”

All she wanted was to ask you out, but it fucking terrified her.

Which was ridiculous. She could have anyone she wanted with the crook of her finger. Men and women fell on their fucking knees for the chance at just one night with her. They would eat out of the palm of her hand and they would thank her when she sent them on their way with just a cup of coffee and a fancy pastry in the morning.

But you?

You weren’t interested. Every time she flirted you would just dismiss her and tell her you had too much to do, even when you called her beautiful. You would always call her mean for being such a tease and tell her the only reason you let her get away with that shit is because she was so gorgeous. Even after so many months she hadn’t worn you down at all, which was kind of cute, but also ridiculously frustrating. All she had managed was to glean some small kernels of personal information from you and hold onto them like they were the most precious things in the world, because damn it, she wanted to know everything about you.

“It’s just nice right now.” Nat rested her head on Bucky’s shoulder and blew out an exasperated breath. “If I don’t ask, she can’t say no.”

“That’s what you’re scared of?” Bucky kissed the top of her head when she nodded. “Holy shit, babe. I don’t think you’ve ever even considered rejection a possibility, this is one for the books.”

“Shut up.” Nat scrunched up her face when he wound his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “She’s so fucking cute, it freaks me out.”

“Yeah.” He took a sip of his beer while he thought things over, rubbing her shoulder absentmindedly and chewing on his lips. “You’ve gotta ask though, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“You’re in such a fucking snit.” Darcy frowned at you after you snapped at her for nothing, rolling her eyes when you just sniffed and ignored her. “Just because your crush hasn’t been here in a whole week, you giant sap.”

“I’m not a sap, shut up.” You huffed and crossed your arms under your breasts with a pout. “I’m PMSing.”

“God, you’re a liar.” She tapped her fingers against the desk irritably when you just kept up the petulant facade. “You want to see her, you’re mad she hasn’t been around, admit it.”

“I. Said. Shut. Up.” You wanted to kick her under the desk, she was so annoying. “I admit nothing.”

“Ugh, whatever, brat.” Darcy turned away from you when someone came up to the desk, grinning when she saw it was Bucky and ignoring your grumbling. “Hiya Bucky! Why hasn’t your friend stopped by in such a long time? It’s annoying my girl, and she’s starting to piss me off with her attitude.”

“My friend… Nat?” Bucky smiled and snuck a peek at you when Darcy nodded, the petulant look on your face a reminder of the friend they were talking about who was also ridiculously stubborn. “She was out of the city for a case, but she’s back now.”

“Oh really?” Darcy did not miss the way you straightened up a little at that, keeping her focus on Bucky while you tried to act like you weren’t listening. “Will she be stopping by anytime soon?”

“She’s actually coming by for lunch and should be here…” both of the meddlers grins got even wider when the door opened and the redhead walked in, ignoring her intrigued stare and turning back to each other. “Speak of the devil. Yours gonna quit being so snotty now?”

“Probably not.” Your squawked ‘snotty?’ was not acknowledged, Darcy still focused on Bucky and decidedly fed up with you being such a stubborn ass. “Don’t think she’ll quit being such a whiny little asshole until yours actually goes on a date with her.”

“Well, Nat was supposed to go out for drinks with me Friday but, gosh, I just remembered I have to wash my hair.” Now Bucky was ignoring Nat when she sighed indignantly. “So her night just freed up, isn’t yours off work?”

“Yes she is.” You were making so many offended noises but Darcy was past caring. “Seven o’clock should work well. Gimme her phone.”

“Yep.” Bucky managed to snatch it out of Nat’s hand before she could react, unlocking it and handing it to Darcy while she grabbed yours and did the same. “I’ll make sure she texts.”

“Me too.” Darcy winked when Bucky gave your phone back to her, waving when he ushered Nat out before she had a chance to protest then turning to beam at you while you just blinked stupidly. “You’re welcome, dumbass.”

Nat had been staring at your door for three minutes.

Her nerves were being ridiculous. This was just a date. She went on dates all the time.

But this was with you.

It had taken a day for her to finally text you the word hi, then another day for you to text her hi back. And then it was like the floodgates had opened. The next three days the two of you were constantly talking whenever you had a moment, finding out everything about each other that you could and Nat smiling whenever a notification popped up like she was a fucking schoolgirl. She was utterly infatuated with you, it was freaking her out. And she loved it.

She finally knocked, holding her breath while she waited for you and grinning when she heard you trip over something and curse. As soon as the door opened she felt like her heart was going to burst through her chest, you looked so fucking beautiful.

The look on her face was making you feel faint, like your tongue was too thick for your mouth and your brain couldn’t function while you gazed up at her and tried not to swoon. You couldn’t believe it was actually happening, that the last few months hadn’t been some colossal joke at your expense. This woman actually wanted to go out with you.

“Hi.” Her voice sounded so fucking sexy, she was going to kill you.

“Hi.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, licking your lips and trying not to whine when she growled softly.

Next thing you knew you were pinned to the wall in your tiny little entryway with the plushest set of lips you’d ever felt smashed against yours, barely registering your apartment door slamming closed as you whined at the way your toes were barely brushing the floor as Nat wound her arms around your waist. Even when she started kissing down the curve of your neck, you could still hardly breathe, whining when she purred against your skin and trying to focus your eyes but failing miserably.

“Wait, Nat.” You whined when she ducked even lower to gently kiss along the tops of your breasts, gasping when she gave you a hungry look as she sucked a bruise against your skin. “Don’t we have a reservation?”

“Yeah… yeah we do. You say the word and we’ll go right now.” She smiled when you whimpered as she stood back up to her full height, resting her forehead against yours and breathing deeply as she settled her eyes on yours. “But the only thing I want to eat right now is that warm, wet prize between your legs, pretty thing.”

“Oh… wow.” You were pretty sure she was going to kill you, but you were absolutely fine with that. “We can stay.”

“Good girl.”

Natasha pressed her lips to yours and swallowed your yelp when she lifted you to wrap around her, her fingers digging into your hips while she carried you over to the couch. Her grin grew even wider when you let out a surprised huff at her dropping you onto the sofa, your breath getting shallow when she climbed on top of you and slipped her warm palms up your thighs and under your skirt.

“God, you’re so fucking soft.” She curled over you again and sucked on your lips until you moaned, slowly peeling your dress off you and biting her lip when you were finally bare to her gaze. “Beautiful.”

“Shut up.” You couldn’t help but giggle when she laughed at you trying to act coquettish while she had you at her mercy, sighing when she just kissed you and running your fingers up her spine. “Do I get to see you too and call you pretty?”

“When I’m done with my meal.” Nat bit your lip playfully before starting to kiss and lick every inch of your breasts, sucking on your nipples and tugging at them with her teeth while you could only make pathetic noises. “Wanna taste every fucking inch of you.”

“O-kay.” You hiccuped when she nuzzled at your stomach and squeezed your hips with a groan, your eyes fluttering closed when she trailed kisses along your curves. “Sounds great.”

“Mmhm.” She growled playfully and bit your thigh before smacking the side of your ass. “Flip over.”

You did what she asked, slowly rolling onto your stomach and whining when she grabbed two handfuls of your ass and squeezed. Then she smacked it again and you could have screamed, you throbbed so hard, her lips and teeth and tongue marking your sensitive skin until your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Nat…” you whimpered when she kept rubbing your ass and purring against your skin, arching your back and spreading your legs as she pulled your cheeks apart so she could stare at you. “Oh fuck, don’t stop.”

“Never. Fuck, you smell so good.” Nat buried her face between your thighs and groaned when she breathed you in deep, dragging her tongue over your slit agonizingly slow so she could taste all of you. “Jesus Christ, fucking peaches.”

There was no answer you could give her except a desperate mewl, letting yourself sink into the cushions when she slid her tongue inside your cunt and curled it. You feel like you were already losing your mind, panting like an idiot while she rubbed her nose against your cute little asshole and digging your fingers into the couch while she tongue fucked you until your whole body felt like one big spring that was wound too tight.

Your pussy was so fucking wet, Nat couldn’t seem to work her mouth fast enough to suck up everything that was dripping out of you, even with her lips wrapped around you so she didn’t miss anything. And the fact that you could hear all the obscene wet sloshes and slurps was not helping, your muscles spasming wildly as you felt it building up insanely fast.

“Fuck… oh fuck.” All you could do was let out a thin, high whine when you fell apart, your cunt fluttering against her lips and gushing into her mouth while she groaned at the taste of your cum. “Mommy…”

“Shit. You had me thinking you were never gonna actually say it, peach.” Nat grinned against you and hummed as she kept kissing your pussy like she could live off it. “Knew you’d be a good girl for mommy, knew this pussy would be so sweet for me. Why don’t you fuck it on my face, pretty girl? Make a goddamn mess out of me, mommy needs it.”

Yeah, she was definitely going to kill you. You reached back and buried your fingers in her hair as you started grinding your ass back into her face, biting the pillow under your face and whimpering when her tongue flicked against your clit. Then her thumb teased against your asshole and your brain broke, your hips writhing wildly when she sucked on your clit until you almost came before she pulled back with a wicked grin.

“Knew you’d like that, just look at you.” Nat bit her lip when she watched your little hole wink at her as she spat on it, her thumb circling the tight ring of muscle slowly and listening to your pathetic sounds as she kept flicking her tongue over your slit like a tease. “These are all mommy’s holes now, peachy girl. Gonna spoil the shit out of you.”

The way you gasped when she slid her thumb into your ass and started flitting her tongue around it was making Natasha clench, her thighs squeezing together when you shoved your hips back even more and yanked on her hair so she was practically suffocating you. She didn’t realize how much she was going to enjoy you completely losing it for you and using her just so you could get off, deciding very quickly that she was going to need to turn you into a mess all the time.

You were going to come again. All the buildup and how fucking sexy she sounded when she moaned and slurped and spat and just, all of it. Damn her and her incredible mouth and how fucking hot she was. And damn you for turning into such a fucking melty mess for her, though who could really blame you for that.

“Mommy please.” You whimpered when she kept fucking your ass with her thumb as her other hand began playing with your clit and you couldn’t help but kick your feet as you felt yourself teetering on the edge again. “Please, wanna come for mommy, need it.”

“Mmm, mommy needs it too, pretty baby.” Nat nipped at the soft skin that was twitching around her thumb while her other hand pinched your clit until you squeaked. “Come for me, sweet girl, let mommy drink from this perfect little pussy, oh my fucking god.”

You almost screamed when she ducked low to suck on your swollen clit, pulling on her hair and screwing your eyes closed while your body started shaking uncontrollably. Nat groaned when you started gushing all over her face, wrapping her mouth around your soft lips and swallowing everything you gave her with a low moan that sent a shiver up your spine. She loved that you couldn’t stop moving against her face as you rode it out, determined to be able to watch your face the next time she made you come and every single time after that.

Her lips spread in a slow smile when you kept shivering as she pulled back from your sex, moving her hands to knead your cheeks deeply while she rested her head against your hip and watched you ride it out. You couldn’t do anything except chirp and let your body sink into the couch, barely having the energy to turn your face and peek over your shoulder at her while a sloppy grin split your face.

“Hiiiiiiii.” Again, you couldn’t think of what else to say, especially since your brain was still mostly offline after two incredible orgasms that were better than anything any man had ever given you.

“Hey baby.” She couldn’t stop smiling as she crawled up your body and nuzzled at your cheek, purring happily when you let out a small sound of satisfaction and wrapping her arms around your waist to hold you as close as possible. “My sweet girl. I do feel a little bad about us missing dinner, but I couldn’t control myself.”

“Listen, that’s fiiiiiine with me.” You let her flip you onto your back and pulled her face to yours so you could lose yourself even more in kissing her. “You can kill me with orgasms tonight and it will be a very happy death.”

“You might be fine with that, but I’m not.” Nat chuckled into your mouth when you just gave her a pitiful little whimper. “Sorry, I’m kinda addicted to that pussy now, sweet peach. I’d get all bummed out if I didn’t have access to it for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, well.” You were not used to this level of attention, and it was even worse when you were in such a state of euphoria. “That’s okay too.”

“Good.” She pecked you once more before sitting up over you, gushing you when you whined at the lack of contact before winking when you swallowed audibly at the sight of her body when she pulled her dress over her head. “Now, should we take a bath before or after I rub my pussy all over yours until I come inside you?”

#natalie writes #no love like your love: the city #big red and peach #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x plus size reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha smut #female reader insert #female reader #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson character #scarlett johansson smut #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #eighteen and over #eighteen plus

[weeping-gospels]

(from @hexed-hero, feel free to ignore if not interested in a thread)

The orc looks at the map he had purchased from a small hamlet further down the mountain. The winds are savage and cold, carrying the coming snowstorm, ushering the orc to the only shelter nearby, Castle Drachenfels. As the orc enters, he feels dozens of eyes upon him, and the further he ventures in, the more intense the feeling gets, until the orc feels unsafe to go on any further without leaving an offering of some kind. So the orc takes a knee, placing some mint, thistle, three gold coins, and a blood red gem on the ground. Then the orc rises, and he feels he is no longer alone in this chamber.

Skittering and shuffling could be heard as the Dhampir’s ratmen had been alerted to a peculiar presence, crimson eyes as bright as rubies targeting the source of disturbance. Having been paid and trained to serve as her portion of the castle’s guardians, it was now muscle memory to get into position and ready their weaponry. Her scribe gasped and slapped a bandaged hand over his mouth, scuttling away on hobbling legs into the grand bedroom, squeaking about how an ‘unfathomably large-huge creature’ stepped foot into their humble abode — much to her dubious displeasure.

Normally, she’d let her vermin take care of whoever it was. However, deciding his size could possibly take out a decent portion of her already petite army, Bethanne sighed and stood up from her coffin bed to check on the ruckus.

The offerings he had left behind weren’t forgotten — but thieved by her Skaven instead of a God. Grubby hands snatched away thistle, mint, coin, and gem, the snickering and sniveling increasing in volume from greedy satisfaction. These noises all abruptly came to a halt however whence the red head entered the top of the stairwell, her silhouette blossoming an intimidatingly long creature with identically long, pointed ears and claws, fangs exposing and maw cracking open —

In a prolonged yawn. Disheveled, in a baggy nightgown with one strap slipping down freckled shoulder to reveal pale flesh, and a single pillow tucked under her arm, she surely was a ‘frightening’ sight to behold for her species. Eyes narrowed to spot him and clear her disoriented vision, chops smacking exhaustedly.

“ S-S-SEE?! K-KRINKLEKIT WAS NOT LYING-BLUFFING!! KRINKLEKIT DID SEE-SAW LARGE-BIG UGLY THING ENTER OUR GENEROUS MISTRESS’ CASTLE, YES-YES!! UGLY THING GAVE US COINS AND GEMS AS APOLOGY-SORRY FOR HURTING OUR EYES-EYES FOR BEING SO HIDEOUS!! UGLY THIN — “

All Bethanne had to do was slowly turn her head to glare at Krinklekit to get him to shut up. With an apologetic peep, he silenced and hid behind her.

“…You there. Why are you here of all places? What ungodly time is it? “

#character: bethanne drozdov 🦇 #hexed hero

[darcy-doll]

another customer.

He walked into the main office with a sense of purpose and saw a blonde woman behind the counter. It wasn’t the blonde he was looking for, yet he knew exactly who she was.

She looked up with a pleasant smile. Her gold name tag shined as she turned to face him. Ramona, it said, in big block letters.

“Welcome to the Merry Motel. Need a room?” Ramona asked. Her hand hovered over the computer mouse, waiting for his response.

She didn’t know who he was. He shed his kutte and bike, opting to take his truck instead. She never met him before. Her sights were focused on Desmond most of the time anyway. In fact, he doubted she would recognize anyone from the club if they weren’t sporting patches.

“Yes,” he said with a nod before he carefully leaned over the counter and gave her a look, “How much for special service?”

Ramona’s grin only widened as her eyes turned to her computer and she typed something in. Her hand moved the computer mouse this way and that, and she looked satisfied when she was done. Turning around, she grabbed a room key off the set of hooks behind her and handed it to him. “Depends on what you’re looking for. We offer a variety.”

“Any blondes?” he asked as his fingers curved around his room key.

Ramona nodded. “We have a blonde readily available. She’ll be down to your room shortly. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns, and enjoy your stay.”

He left the main office and walked down the row of rooms. Room 8 was his assigned room and he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Immediately, he drew the curtains, closed the blinds, and dimmed all the lights.

Then he waited.

The whole plan wouldn’t have been in motion if he didn’t get into an argument with his girlfriend a few days ago. It was bad, one of the worst ones yet. He and his girlfriend got into it. It was so heated that Desmond told them to take it outside. He did one better. He hopped on his bike and went for a ride.

He must’ve drove farther than he thought because he saw her. She was walking along the perimeter of the motel, and her blonde hair and petite figure were unmistakable. He knew it was her. She had looked up at the sound of the motorcycle, almost hopeful, but he had disappeared down the next road before she saw who it was. When he doubled back, just to make sure, she was gone. He had pulled over and called his vice president, and since then, he not only conducted a few stakeouts to make sure it was her, but he also put this very plan in motion.

He paced around the room slowly, eyeing his watch every few seconds. He was as calm as can be, and it was almost scary, given the circumstances. Still, it was all part of the plan.

There was a knock at his door. Inhaling deeply, he realized this was the moment of truth. Pulling the door open, he came face to face with her.

She took a step back in surprise. “Oh my god, Walker.”

He reached out, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her inside before she had a chance to say anything else. Shutting and locking the door for good measure, Walker turned around and faced her. He stared at her, taking her in. What the hell happened to her?

“Darcy,” he whispered in shock. He knew he saw her a few days ago but not up close. And now that he was looking at her, anger and hatred boiled inside him.

Darcy had deep bruises around her neck, shaped like a handprint, like someone choked the ever living shit out of her. There was a fresh abrasion against her cheek, probably from a slap to the face. She looked like she lost weight, which was unsettling given how petite she already was. Whatever part of her body that wasn’t covered in clothing was covered in something else. There were scratches, bruises, and… damn, cigarette burns too.

Walker wanted to maim whoever did this to her. Desmond though… he was sure Desmond would slaughter them. With that thought, Walker was debating if Desmond should even see her like this. Surely there must be a way to hide her until she was all healed up, right?

“What… what happened–?” He had no idea how to begin this line of questioning. How she was still standing in one piece amazed him.

“I’m protecting the people I love,” Darcy told him. She seemed so relieved at seeing a familiar face. There was almost a light in her eyes but a depressing darkness overshadowed it.

Walker blinked, trying to process what to say. She made the dumbest decision in the entire fucking world, and this was what it cost her. He was there when Desmond got the phone call. He was there when Darcy said she was leaving, that she had to go with her sister in order to protect Desmond and Legend. By the time Walker got to the motel, she was gone. Not a single trace left of her, except the burner phone she intentionally left behind. After days, weeks even, of searching and staking the place out, here she was. 

Walker pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Desmond, letting his vice president know that Darcy was okay. Well… as much as she could be anyway, but he wasn’t going to go into details over the phone.

Then he dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?” Darcy asked, suddenly looking alarmed and panicked, “You can’t tell anyone I’m here. You were never here.”

“Shut up,” Walker mumbled toward her just as the person on the other line picked up. “No, not you,” he spoke into the phone. “I found her. Wanna talk to her?”

In half a second, Walker handed the phone to Darcy. The blonde took it, almost afraid of who was on the other line, but she answered anyway. “Hello?”

“Darcy Sarah Merritt,” the voice on the other line spoke sternly, “how fucking dare you.”

Darcy sank onto the bed, and Walker watched her carefully. He felt like even the slightest breeze would cause her to fall over, so he kept an arm out just in case.

“Hi Winnie.”

“I swear to god, when I see you, I’m gonna kick your ass. Are you okay?” Winnie’s voice was angry but also laced with concern and worry. Just hearing her voice like that made Darcy tear up.

“I’m fine,” Darcy said. Her eyes glanced up at Walker, who mouthed to her, like hell you are. She ignored him, pulling her eyes away and staring at the ugly printed carpet. “How are you?”

“You’re kidding, right? I’ve been a wreck. What the hell were you thinking?” Winnie almost shouted.

Darcy just wanted to be swallowed up by the bed at that point. She hated disappointing people, and she absolutely didn’t like hurting anyone. She thought she was doing the right thing. Her heart was in the right place.

“I, um. Well,” she didn’t even know where to begin.

“Look, Darce. How many times do we need to tell you? Let us protect you.”

“No, Win. No. You don’t get it.”

“I get it plenty. Sweetie, you have a whole gang over here who will fight your battles for you, and you know your man will be front and center. You didn’t need to do this.”

Darcy inhaled, trying not to choke on the sobs that were blooming in the back of her throat.

“Ramona threatened–”

“The club gets threatened all the time. You think they’d be fazed by this?” Winnie’s voice rang in Darcy’s ear, and Darcy desperately wanted her to stop talking. She really didn’t get it.

“God, Win.” Darcy stood up, shifting the phone to her other ear. Walker eyed her, staying close by just in case. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then come home and let’s talk about it, Darce.”

“I can’t.”

“I hate to break it to you, but why do you think Walk is there?”

“He’s leaving.”

It was at that moment when Walker snatched the phone out of Darcy’s grip. He gave her a look, almost menacing, that made her cower in her place and pull her eyes away from him. Instinctively, a hand went to her blonde hair, curling it around her finger as she awaited whatever punishment Walker was going to dish out.

“Hey Win,” Walker said on the phone while looking at Darcy, “Yeah. I told her. Tell Des it’s definitely her. You’ll see her soon. Yes, Win. Okay. Okay, Win. Love you too.”

He hung up and pocketed his phone. His eyes never wavered from the petite blonde in front of him. Darcy tried to look menacing too, but she knew it was coming across as pathetic. With her looking like she was, in the state that she was in, it was clear she couldn’t look threatening. Hell, her tiny frame made it almost impossible for her to look even slightly scary.

“I’m not going back,” Darcy said.

“Oh yes you are.” Walker stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring her down. “I’ll force you into my truck, Darcy. You’re going back.”

“Why? Why do you care so much? I’m doing this for you, all of you.” She wasn’t backing down, and it was becoming bothersome.

“I swear to god, if I had my gun on me right now…”

“You’ll what? Shoot me? Wouldn’t be the first time someone hurt me enough to draw blood.”

The words stung and he had to take a step back. While it was a low blow, he also recognized the truth in her words. He couldn’t imagine what kind of hell she went through, what her sister forced her to go through, and he didn’t want to think about it. This was what she decided to do for the club? For Desmond? He couldn’t help but admire that, despite how flawed it was.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Walker told her. He walked past her and glanced out of the peephole on the door. It was a split second action, like he had done this a million times.

“I can’t leave,” Darcy tried to reason. He heard it in her voice. She sounded so full of desperation, like she had no other choice.

He was in front of her quickly, his hands gripping her arms in a tight lock. “You have two options here. Either you leave with me, or you leave with Des. And I guarantee, if I call my VP and have him come get you, it will not be pretty.”

“I can handle myself.”

“It’s not you I’d be worried about.”

Her light brown eyes widened in shock, fear breaking through for a moment. Darcy lost one sister already, and the thought of losing the other was clearly getting to her. He knew very little of her story. Desmond and Winnie knew the most, and he only knew what he was told, which wasn’t a lot. He knew about the past motel business, and he knew about Maeve. Darcy didn’t know what specifically happened to Maeve like he did, but still. Ramona was the last sister still standing for her. She had no other blood-related family.

Yet she still walked away from the Morrises, her new family, the better family.

“Make a choice, Darcy. I’m fine either way.” Walker sat down on the bed and stretched out as he stared at her. He inhaled deeply, shifting his weight against the bed. But his relaxation came to a screeching halt when there was a knock at his door.

“Shit,” Darcy mumbled to herself. She pulled off her shirt, and walked over to the door wearing black leggings with a black bra. Turning to face Walker, she motioned to him. “Quick, undo your pants.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Shut up and do it.”

Walker shed his jeans and was sprawled back on the bed. God, if anyone from the club could see him right now, he’d be dead. Darcy opened the door and leaned against the frame. Ramona stood there, looking pleased at the sight in the room.

“Everything meeting your expectations?” Ramona asked as she looked past the door frame to Walker, who was seductively lying on the bed with a slight frown.

He stood up, his frown melting into confusion as he put on the same role as before. “Why are you here?”

Ramona seemed taken aback by the question, and she stumbled over her answer. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Walker pulled himself off the bed and grabbed his pants from the floor, shuffling them back on as if he didn’t just take them off. “You always disturb paying customers with a check in?” He looked angry as he grabbed Darcy by the arm and pulled her into the room, away from Ramona.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Ramona said, looking guilty. “Just wanted to make sure–”

Walker slammed the door in her face, locking it with a loud click. He turned back to Darcy, who was already putting her shirt back on. “What the hell, Darce.”

“She does that sometimes. She checks up on me and makes sure I am actually performing the services people pay for,” Darcy answered nonchalantly, like it was an everyday thing. God, Walker wanted to so badly show her it wasn’t.

“You’re joking.” Walker made a mental note to tell Desmond about this too. Man, the things he had to tell his vice president from just this one evening was racking up.

“No,” Darcy shook her head.

“What happens if you don’t perform your required duties?” Walker asked, hating the question as soon as it left his mouth. Darcy wasn’t supposed to be doing this. She should be back home, with her friends, with her family, where she belonged. None of this was normal.

Darcy pointed to the crude red mark on her face, the fresh abrasion that Walker noticed right away when he first saw her. Putting two and two together, he realized Ramona had slapped, or possibly punched, Darcy in the face before she knocked on his door. Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over him, and he couldn’t help but think he was responsible for that injury.

Glancing out of the door peephole, Walker noticed Ramona was no longer in sight. But clearly she was watching from somewhere. He let out a sigh and turned back to face the petite blonde before him. “We’re not leaving for a while. Your sister has eyes on us. How about you get some sleep for a little bit? I’ll keep watch.”

Darcy shook her head, clearly wanting to protest, but Walker cut her off. “I doubt you’re even sleeping these days. A small nap, okay? I paid for the night, so you don’t have to worry about other customers. Plus, it’ll make me feel better.”

It was her turn to let out a sigh, knowing it was futile to say anything. She walked over to the bed and laid down, but said nothing. As she drifted off, Walker kept his promise. He watched over her while keeping an eye on the door and window, should any other visitors pop up. Once it was well past dark with nothing but the moon lighting their way, he’ll wake her up and they’ll make a plan to leave, whether Darcy liked it or not.

#drabble #roleplay

[monotonous-minutia]

So I weirdly actually did a thing I said I was going to do.

Here’s a handy dandy list of Nozze productions to avoid if you, like me, love Cherubino, and believe he is a precious sunflower that needs to be protected at all costs.

After watching about 20 productions of this opera (though not all of them in full) I have compiled the following list.

Truncated because it got pretty long:

*Some of what is written here is subjective so I apologize if I end up disparaging a production you’ve seen and enjoyed. But I tried to stay objective and focus on the specific details that made the production safe or not for Cherubino.

**If you’re morbidly curious and want to know what, exactly, goes on in the first two listed here, perhaps message me first to ask before seeking them out to see for yourself, to prepare.

Salzburg 2006

Do not watch this one.

It’s weird, disturbing, and borderline sadistic. I can appreciate odd productions if they look at operas in new ways, try a different take, or magnify certain elements to bring in a fresh perspective. This production does none of that. It’s just weirdly disturbing for no apparent or forgivable reasons. I’ve spent a decent amount of time searching for answers on this one but none of the critiques I’ve found have any clue what this is supposed to be, so whatever the director was trying to say, their attempts failed miserably and left an atrocity in their wake. EVERYONE in this damn thing (except Cherubino) is a freaking asshole, the set is minimalist to the point of being irrelevant and confusing, and there’s this weird, winged Cherubino look-alike going around controlling people like puppets and making them do weird dance moves during their numbers. Obviously this director did not know how to embrace the concept that some people can just stand still while they’re talking or singing. Also, people hardly ever make eye contact and it’s unnerving, like they’re all zombies. There are a lot of other small, weird details that just keep building to make this thing a terrible production overall. The worst thing about it is poor sweet Cherubino. He’s an innocent, delicate flower that’s abused by everyone in unbearable ways. I don’t even want to go into it. I beseech you not to watch this because it’s honestly kind of traumatizing. Just pretend this one doesn’t exist and you’ll be okay. 

Redeeming factors: absolutely none. Cherubino is adorable and too pure for this world but that just makes the whole thing ten times worse because of all the terrible, terrible things that happen to him.

Dutch National Opera 2016

Proceed with caution for this one. It’s a shame because the production itself is pretty decent, and Susanna and the Contessa are great. The set is interesting—versatile, rotating, lots of doors that are utilized in interesting ways. It’s mostly portraying the somewhat-empty house that the cast is moving into it (at least that’s what I gathered). Reasons to avoid: Figaro is an asshole, the Count is downright gross, and Cherubino is treated terribly by almost everyone (except the Contessa and Susanna, bless them). The only part I like is the Act 2 scene between the three of them where they are all very sweet to each other and Cherubino is delighted to dress up and the kindness he’s shown here by the ladies makes up for some of the other things that happen. The worst stuff I won’t get into; I can’t talk about it without getting super upset. In general, Cherubino is terrorized by the Count on multiple occasions (physically threatened, punched, and thrown around), Figaro is super mean to him, and he doesn’t really get any closure at the end except that Barbarina dotes on him and he clearly loves her so we can imagine that he’ll be okay. It is a joy to watch him being super awkward, dreamy, and cheeky; I just wish he’d been given a better production.

My recommendation for this one, if you do want to watch it, is skip “Non piu andrai” and go right to Act II, although there’s one aspect that’s hard to explain without seeing that. For now let’s just say: there’s a reason Cherubino is wearing a beanie at the top of the second act, and it’s Figaro’s fault. You don’t need to know what else happens. (My rec: skip forward like ten minutes after the last recit, then seek backwards until you see Susanna sitting on a crate holding a remote which is the start of Act II. That way you don’t have to see the scene even in fast-motion.) At any rate please don’t watch that scene. I want to find the person who staged it and punch them. The rest is bearable; just be warned, it’s not fun or pretty.

Honesty hour: Figaro is mean enough too that I want Susanna and Rosina to run off together and just marry each other because their chemistry here is amazing. And take Cherubino with them and keep him safe and loved forever.

Redeeming factors: Interesting set, great leading ladies, insanely adorable Cherubino, and also it’s insinuated that the Contessa actually leaves Almaviva at the end; she even threatens him with his own hunting rifle and everyone else just watches in morbid fascination. She does put the gun down at the last second, but she doesn’t go to him after, so maybe he gets kicked out. We can only hope.

Salzburg 2015

Tbh this one’s just weird and probably not worth your time anyway. The set looks like the wall of the house was cut off so we can see all the rooms inside, upstairs and downstairs, at the same time. It’s an interesting device showing how all of the scenes interact, but it’s no utilized very well. There’s so much business in multiple rooms at one time that it’s hard to focus on the people who are talking and singing at the moment. The cast is mediocre. We get Pisaroni as the Count which should have been worthwhile but isn’t because of the weirdness of the production. It’s honestly hard to tell what or who anyone is supposed to be here. Plus there’s blatant abuse from the Count to the Contessa and it’s hard to watch especially because I’m more used to a huggable Luca and this doesn’t do him justice imo. Additionally, I typically stan gay Basilio, but here he’s got a thing for Cherubino, and Cherubino is super not into it so it just comes across as gross. Mostly Cherubino is just pushed to the sidelines (the Count literally locks him into the closet for most of the end of the first act). So it really minimizes his character in general and is disappointing to Cherubino fans.

Redeeming factors: Susanna is really cute, Figaro is nice, “Non piu andrai” is not sadistic, but this is mostly because everyone leaves the room when he starts singing it so he’s just talking to himself which is weird anyway. At least there is nothing Unspeakable although I do wish I could wipe this Basilio out of my brain. Also Margarita Gritskova as Cherubino being dapper and sweet and I’d say Pisaroni but I’m not a fan of him being the mean old Count when he should be playing those sweet Rossini baritone roles.

Salzburg 1995

Susan Graham is Cherubino and she’s super adorable, although she’s taller than almost everyone else which is awkward and amusing. However everyone is VERY mean to Cherubino. Even Susanna. He gets thrown around a lot which is just sad to watch. The production overall is kind of unremarkable and the picture/sound quality isn’t great either. Watchable but just be prepared for an annoying amount of meanness from characters who should be a lot nicer.

Redeeming factors: Susan Graham is amazing and adorable. That’s pretty much it. Someone tell me what is up with Salzburg and this opera, seriously.

Royal Opera House 2006

This Cherubino is a precious duckling who gets thrown around by everyone, especially Figaro, which is super sad. Honestly so many of these are ruining the character of Figaro for me. This one is watchable and decent except for Mean Figaro. The set is elaborate and detailed but sometimes the background action with the supers gets distracting. The rest of the cast is alright but I wish they would be nicer to Cherubino who hasn’t done one single thing to warrant the abuse. I recommend avoiding it for those reasons but it’s not as bad as some of the others.

Redeeming factors: Intricate, pretty set, Dorothea Röschmann being an adorable Contessa, and Cherubino being gawky and cute.

To balance out the depressingness here are some Nozzes that I highly recommend!

Garsington 2017

My absolute favorite, a pure delight. Though there are no big names here, the entire cast is amazing. The set is glorious, detailed without being distracting, super versatile to fit all the scenes, and the final act is actually in a garden and it’s just so PRETTY. The chemistry between Figaro and Susanna is lovely; they obviously adore each other and are a great team throughout all their plots. The Count is reasonably dislikable without being detestable, so the apology at the end is actually kind of believable (though it’s hard to pull off in general). He and the Contessa actually have an interesting dynamic so you can kind of see how they might make things work in the end (some of their arguments are more banter-y than mean and they actually make out briefly in “Susanna, or via, sortite” as if they’re kind of turned on by each other’s fury). The supporting cast is great too, full of personality and mischief. The staging is lighthearted, genuine, and intricate. THIS is what a Nozze should be! Cherubino is adorable, cheeky, super loveable, a SHAMELESS flirt, and best of all everyone loves him (except the Count obviously). Figaro is really nice to him too and “Non piu andrai” is really cute because he and Susanna are teasing him the entire time but it NEVER gets mean and it’s honestly so refreshing. Highly recommend this one!

Met 1998

Featuring my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE CHERUBINO, the incomparable Susanne Mentzer, as well as my favorite Contessa ever, Renèe Fleming. I could talk about those two forever. They are both individually fantastic and their collaboration is amazing. I died, to be honest. Also features an amazing Susanna courtesy of Cecilia Bartoli and a simply adorable Danielle de Niesse as Barbarina. Figaro is pretty mean to Cherubino especially during “Non piu andrai” (seriously what is it with directors and this number) but it’s nothing compared to so many others so it’s watchable especially because Mentzer is fantastic and she steals the entire scene without even saying anything because she’s amazing. Her Cherubino is just the sweetest, sassiest, most adorable, energetic, and expressive Cherubino ever to bless the operatic stage. She’s exactly what Cherubino should be in every way and the production fully supports it. Watching the entire Cherubino-Susanna-Contessa scene in Act 2 is one of my favorite things in the world. The production itself is classic, detailed and true to the period, busy without being distracting, and the rest of the cast is good too.

Liege 2018

A very cute production featuring a super sweet Figaro who teases Cherubino but is not mean to him. Cherubino is sassy and endearing and very much the flirt with every lady in sight, and is pretty popular among them. The rest of the cast is good too and we get a particularly sassy Susanna (whose chemistry with the Contessa is lovely). The set is simple but very pretty. Another lighthearted, sweet, and genuine portrayal that stays true to the heart of this opera.

Glyndebourne 1973

A classic; lots of familiar names, lush period set/costumes, and staging that’s simple but effective. Featuring the insanely adorable Frederica von Stade as Cherubino. Her smile melts my heart every time. A mostly nice Figaro and great leading ladies.

Obviously there are way more productions out there, and I’ve watched more than this, but these are the ones that to me are most noteworthy from one end of the scale or the other.

This list may get longer as I watch more, but I think I’m going to take a break from Nozze for a little bit (or more likely just re-watch the Garsington one and Mentzer’s Cherubino over and over again).

#Le nozze di Figaro #the marriage of figaro #Cherubino #opera #opera tag #opera reviews #beware the Salzburg 2006 #if that's your only takeaway i've probably succeeded #petition to slap whoever came up with that one #anyway i hope you find this helpful #Cherubino is precious and must be protected at all costs #monotonous-minutia critiques

[abbatoirablaze]

Djinn (The Genie), Chapter 8

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: dark steve, manipulation, dubcon/noncon relationship, rape/unprotected, mentions of forced oral (m receiving), slapping, abuse

Steve glared at Nat the whole time they were gearing up for the mission. He felt short with her, giving her quick, one worded answers. And Nat noticed. She smiled, knowing that you were with Steve, hidden to her once in the HQ and on the plane, but also knowing that you were close.

But he had to focus.

The mission came first.

But the second they were back in HQ, he hid in one of the restrooms, and locked the door.

“Djinn. Come out. Now!”

With the faint purple glow, and some light smoke, you appeared in front of him. You didn’t miss how his jaw was clenched or how he was clearly pissed about the previous interactions that you’d had with Nat.

“You never told me you knew her.”

“You never asked.”

“Y-you had sex with her!” He growled, “I think that’s something that I should have been made aware of.”

“Do you want the list of every person I’ve ever fucked, Steve?” you growled, suddenly feeling as though he was overreacting. You blinked your eyes and a scroll unfurled in his hand. You smirked and crossed your arms over your chest, “there! That’s a list of every person I’ve ever had sex with. Happy?”

He threw the scroll to the ground, and it disappeared, “what is your problem? I-“

“No, Steve. What is your problem?” you asked, cutting him off, “you know that I had a past before you. Just like I know that you had a past before me. Albeit, yours is a much shorter one, bu-“

You were cut off when he slapped you. Your eyes went wide as you felt a stinging sensation in your cheek. He grabbed your throat and held you up against the wall. You felt frightened as you noticed that his normal blue/green eyes weren’t calm. They were filled with rage. You began to feel dizzy, “now you listen to me. I’m not going to put up with your childish antics anymore. I won’t do it! I know what you’ve been doing. Twisting my wishes. Trying to push people away from me. It stops today. I like being around Kate. I like helping her. And Natasha has become like a family member to me. You’re not ruining that because you want to have sex with her again. You are my genie. You belong to me. Is that understood?”

You shuddered, nodding your head. You were at a complete loss for words. You hadn’t ever seen this side to Steve, and the part of you that lived to satisfy your master, wondered if he was turning into this kind of man because of you.

It wasn’t uncommon for man to become wicked once they had the power of a genie behind him. And Steve had your father…he was a kind and noble man. He only wanted to make humans happy…but what if Steve poisoned your father into the form that ultimately killed him, and vice versa. You knew that Kreuger was aiming for Steve.

Had Steve wished that your father protects him at all costs?

Had Steve put your father into a similar position that he now held you in?

But just like that, the moment was over. Steve had dropped you to the floor, looking at you like you were a piece of trash. His nostrils flared as he looked like he was fighting with himself.

“S-Steve?”

“Get up,” he growled softly. You noticed that he refused to look at you, and your inner physiology shrunk back. You didn’t like when he was unhappy with you. There was a knock on the bathroom door, and someone began to ask if whoever was in there was alright. You looked at him with worried eyes. His own eyes didn’t hold the darkness that they had before, but the rage was tethered in his voice. You obeyed his instructions, slowly standing back to your petite height. Steve’s jaw twitched as he stared at the door, “I wish that time was frozen.”

“S-Steve?”

“Shut up, Djinn, and complete the wish.”

Your eyes glowed and the soft knocks on the bathroom door ceased. You could feel the stiffness in the air, reminding you that time was indeed now frozen, “it’s done, Steve.”

“Master from now on,” he grumbled, reaching for his suit. He began to undo it, until it fell to the floor. You felt yourself looking away from the nude super soldier, suddenly feeling like this wasn’t a moment you were supposed to be involved in. He’d never allowed you to see him naked before. And while your physiology was responding to him, your body instantly craving to look at your master, you forced your eyes away from him. He growled, “look at me Djinn.”

“S-Steve?” you asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Your eyes went wide as he took a few more steps in front of you, and he grasped your face in his hands. You were shaking in his hands.

“What did I say?”

“M-master.”

He smiled, “Now…you want to talk sex so much…here’s what we’re going to do…I’m going to be added to that little scroll you have. How, is up to you. Are you going to be a good little girlfriend for me, Djinn? Or do I have to wish it?”

You paled, “m-master, I do-“

“Yes. Or No.”

“I-“ But he cut you off with another slap. You felt the purple glimmering tears work into the corners of your eyes. Your body may have wanted it, but you did not. This wasn’t the man who had been courteous and sweet. This was nothing like the Steve that Bucky had described when he talked about the old days with his best friend. You felt horror slicing through your veins as you pled, “y-you’re supposed to be a good man…please…don’t do this.”

“Then don’t make me wish it, Djinn,” he replied darkly. Your light shivers turned to full body shakes as you cried more heavily. He smiled to you as his fingers danced along your jaw, “we can keep that pretty little illusion going…all you have to do is be a good little genie…speaking of which…I want you to wipe the wish request of any less than admirable wishes…that way the council doesn’t see it. That way I know your commitment to me is real.”

“B-but…”

“I know how it works, Djinn. Your father did it for me all the time. And now you are going to do the same. Unless you’d like to lose your magic for good,” he smiled, his fingertips brushing along your jaw a little more firmly. When you paled a little more his grin only got wider, “oh yes. I know about all of it, my little genie. Your father made sure that my record stayed squeaky clean…now…be a good girl and do the same.”

Your eyes glowed, and you bowed your head in submission, fulfilling his request, “y-yes master.”

“Now…back to the original order of business,” he smirked. He leaned down to your face and gave you the smallest of kisses. You felt yourself leaning into it and your stomach lurched. When he pulled away, you whimpered, causing him to grin yet again, “now…be a good little genie, and get down on your knees. And make me feel good.”

“Yes master.”

You slowly sank to your knees in front of him, his heavy cock bobbing in front of his lower abdomen. He gave you a wolfish look, “and Djinn?”

“Yes.”

“Remember…if you keep me happy, I’ll keep you happy.”

“Yes master,” you whimpered, feeling the understood statement as his fingers grazed your cheek. You reached out and took his cock, lightly kissing the tip, “I-I’ll keep you happy, master.”

When time resumed, you were instantly sucked back into Steve’s watch, and he was strolling happily out of the bathroom, muttering something to the person on the other side about the door sticking. You felt the shame bubbling up in your stomach, knowing that wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.

And while your physiology was purring at the idea of Steve taking you again, the ache between your thighs wasn’t at all what you had expected it to be. It was nothing like how it’d been with Bucky or even Natasha…it felt different, and you weren’t so sure that it was a good thing.

He ripped you away from his cock by your hair, throwing you to the floor. The tears that had streamed down your face didn’t matter to him, and you knew it, but you weren’t sure if the aching in your throat was because of your physiology purring at the fact that he’d ravaged your mouth, or if it was from the pain of him painfully holding your neck at the angle so that his cock was halfway down your throat.

“Be my good little genie and bend over,” he purred, stroking your face, “there’s only one place I’m cumming today.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t wait for your reaction. He lifted you until you stood, and then his hands went to your waist as he pushed you forward towards the sink. You hit it with such force, an audible grunt left your lips, along with all of the air you held in your belly. Instantly, your clothes were shredded like tissue paper.

And even while time was frozen, you shivered at the air hitting your exposed cunt.

“M-master, please. Pl-“

But you were cut off by your own scream as Steve slammed into you. Ramming into you at an animalistic pace, he didn’t care about your wants and needs. No, it was about proving that he owned you. He slammed into you, pistoning in and out as though his own life depended on it.

You cried, your tears staining the mirror that your face was pressed against. And your moans were a mixture of both pain and pleasure, your hips hurting as he continued to stab into you. The backs of your hips no doubt were to have the bruises in the shapes of his hands, while the front was sure to leave a flat, long bruise that spread itself across your hips from being needlessly slammed into the sink time and time again.

You weren’t sure whether to cry or to moan in your pain and lust ridden haze, so you ended up doing both. The mixture of pain and pleasure had you teetering on the side of not knowing what to do. You tried to shift from his grasp, which only caused him to grip harder, fuck into you deeper. When you winced at the pain, he laughed, telling you to ‘take everything he gave you,’ and that you were an ungrateful little bitch.

He spoke like that; his words and phrases becoming more dirty, the closer he got to his own end, until finally, you felt his hot cum spreading deep inside of you. With one last curse, his body slumped over yours, and he delicately kissed behind the back of your ear, “did so good for me, little genie. Took me so well. You’ll do just fine with me…be such a good girl, won’t you?”

His hands squeezed your hips one more time before he pulled out of you. When you turned around, he shot you a wink. You felt shameful as your eyes glowed, and you removed all traces of him from inside and outside of your body. He smiled as he noticed the beginnings of the bruises. You flinched as he reached forward to touch them.

“M-master, please.”

“Next time I want you to moan that,” he smiled deviously, “want you to beg me for more…”

“Y-yes master.”

“You can’t get rid of the bruises can you?” he asked as he started putting his suit back on, “or the hickies on the side of your throat.”

“Bruises must heal on their own.”

“Good,” he growled, zippering himself back in. His fingers touched the long bruise below your belly button. You flinched and his eyes darkened, “you don’t shrink away from me…ever. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes master.”

His hand went up to your neck, “if I were to bite you and break the skin…would the same principle apply?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“That’s good to know.” He nodded. You frowned, looking away from him, “you can make time start back up again…and go back to the watch…we’ll be leaving soon…and tonight, I want you to be a good little girlfriend, acting like my own little housewife. Show me how appreciative that you are for me…and I’m going to fuck you on every surface of our apartment. Is that understood, Djinn?”

“Yes, master.”

Chapter 9

#dark marvel #dark steve rogers #marvel #marvel au #steve rogers #captain america #the avengers #mcu #dark captain america #genie #natasha romanoff #natasha #natasha romanov #black widow

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober 2021

Prompt #5: Broken nose

“Aramis, the Musketeer?”

“Yes?”

Aramis, on his way to the garrison with Porthos, turned around to see who was addressing him - and his head snapped back when a fist landed square in his face. He heard and felt a nasty crack. His vision burst into stars. He stumbled backwards, clutching his nose. Blood gushed through his fingers.

Somewhere, in the haze of pain, Porthos was yelling.

“Oi! What in the Queen’s name-“

A scuffle ensued. Aramis more heard than saw it - he was perilously close to fainting from shock and pain. Next to him, fists hit flesh, cloth tore and yelps and gasps from a voice that wasn’t Porthos’ told him that his friend had the upper hand on whoever had attacked him. When his vision cleared, it was already over: hunched over in the middle of the street, Aramis stood dripping blood into the dirt, circled by aghast Parisians, with Porthos standing over an unconscious man.

The big Musketeer snorted angrily, fists still clenched, shoulders squared. Then he turned to Aramis, his fierce expression melting into worry.

“Y’alright, Aramis?”

“Yeah,” Aramis croaked nasally, gingerly fingering his nose. To his dismay, it felt crooked and hurt like hell. “Or no, that is. He broke my nose.”

“Are you serious?”

Porthos stepped closer and put his hand under Aramis’ chin, carefully tilting his head back to inspect the damage. Aramis sniffed, immediately regretting it. Pain stabbed up his nose, and his mouth filled with a copper taste so thick, it made him nauseous.

“Hell’s bells,” Porthos muttered. “It is broken.”

Aramis blinked tears from his eyes.

“That bad?” he asked nervously.

“It’s kind of bent to one side.” Porthos looked at him with a curious expression, as if he was looking at an interesting insect he’d never seen before. “And it’s swelling up really fast.”

“Wonderful.”

Aramis moaned and spit a mouthful of blood into the street. Around them, a few people were still standing and staring, whispering, while the rest of onlookers had gone back to their business. This was Paris. Street brawls happened and were of little interest unless someone died.

“What are ye starin’ at?!” Porthos waved a big hand. “Move! There’s nothin’ to see here!”

While their audience dispersed, Aramis had fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to staunch the blood. His beard was sticky with it, the front of his leather doublet splattered. Porthos, meanwhile, walked over to the unconscious attacker and shoved him with the tip of his boot. The man moaned a little, starting to come around.

“I s’ppose you know this man?”

Aramis squinted at the tall and overweight figure dressed in the practical but fashionable clothes of the Parisian middle class. The reddish beard and the golden signet ring on one of his hands left no doubt.

“Yes,” he said uncomfortably. “Yes, I know him.”

Porthos lowered his head to glower at Aramis. “And?”

Bleeding into his handkerchief, Aramis looked away. “I know his wife, too.”

Porthos threw his head back in exasperation. His accompanying eye roll was so pronounced, Aramis could practically hear it.

“Unbelievable,” Porthos muttered. And then, louder: “You’re unbelievable! One day, yer gonna get yourself killed! Haven’t you learned anything?!”

Embarrassed and fighting a headache, Aramis said nothing. Michèle was a sweet girl. Milky breasts, black curls, amber eyes and with a love for poetry and soldiers. Why did God put such beautiful, smart women in front of him when he didn’t want Aramis to be with them?

“Well, maybe this will teach you,” Porthos added darkly. “‘M not sure a lot of Paris women have a taste for a man with a smashed potato for a nose.”

Apprehensively, Aramis palpated his injured face. It didn’t feel like his anymore, his skin stretching as the swelling escalated, the tip of his nose off-center, his moustache caked in coagulating blood. Even if Aramis claimed he wasn’t vain, he knew it wasn’t the truth. He’d accepted his prettiness as a convenient gift from God, and he liked what he saw in the mirror when he trimmed his beard or adjusted his hat. It was an advantage he would not like to lose. Frankly, it scared him.

On the ground, Michèle’s husband groaned and began to make an effort at sitting up. One of his eyes was blackening.

“We should get outta here,” Porthos warned.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

XXX

They arrived at the garrison right after morning muster. The regiment had largely dispersed, turning to their daily duties. A few stragglers were still in the yard, casting curious glances when Porthos and Aramis passed through the arch. Against Aramis’ hopes, Captain Treville was among them. Face turning thunderous, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Let me guess,” he said, taking in Aramis’ appearance. “It’s a little early for gambling, and Porthos looks unharmed, so it cannot have been a bar brawl. Since it’s morning, and it’s you,” - he pointed at Aramis and sniffed - “with the nosebleed and smelling of perfume, I’ll assume you ran into an admirer? As in: head first?”

His eyes were blazing and Aramis could swear he saw a wisp of the Captain’s thinning hair turn white.

“He got ‘im pretty bad, Cap’n,” Porthos came to Aramis’ defense. “Bashed ‘is nose right in.”

Some of the fury drained from Treville’s face.

“Let me see,” he said, eyebrows knitting to a frown.

Aramis took his hand with the balled-up handkerchief away from his face and revealed the whole extent of the damage.

Treville’s eyebrows rose.

“By God, it is broken.”

Aramis whimpered miserably.

“But you’re lucky, son,” Treville added. “A visitor arrived last night. Just in time to help you out, it seems.”

“Who?” Porthos asked.

“Go see for yourselves,” Treville said. “She’s in the infirmary.”

XXX

When they entered the garrison’s small infirmary, a woman was busy sorting through the medicine cabinet. She was wearing a coarse brown nun’s habit and turned around when she heard them, hazel eyes shining brightly out of a freckled, middle-aged face.

“Sister Marie!” Porthos’ joyful bellow turned into laughter. He crossed the room in four strides and enveloped the petite woman in a hug.

“What are you doing here?”

“Returning some of Athos’ books and bringing some medicines Aramis requested,” she answered cheerfully. Spotting Aramis, she added: “And it seems our Lord knew just when to send me.”

“You are, indeed, a gift sent from Heaven,” Aramis said, relieved. He’d been fearing he would have to attempt to set his nose himself.

“What happened?”

Sister Marie, pragmatic as ever, took Aramis by the shoulders and led him to a chair close to a window where the light was better.

Porthos scoffed. “I don’t think you want to know, Sister.”

The nun looked back and forth between the two Musketeers, her intelligent eyes boring into them. All of a sudden, Aramis felt very stupid.

“You don’t want to know,” he said guiltily.

She cocked her head. “Then I won’t ask. But this,” she pointed at Aramis’ nose,”needs to be set before the swelling gets any worse.”

“Do you think you can fix it?” Aramis asked with new hope.

Sister Marie gently probed his injured face, feeling for the break, and Aramis bit his lip while his eyes began to water again.

“Yes,” she finally stated. “Feels like a clean break. But we have to do it now and you must follow my instructions. Diligently.”

Aramis nodded. Of course he would if she saved him from looking like a monstrosity for the rest of his life. He hadn’t looked in a proper mirror yet, but on the way here, he’d seen his reflection in a window, and it was horrendous.

Sister Marie looked around the infirmary.

“We need cold water, a bowl, a towel, some wool and horsetail tincture. And my comfrey poultice from the cabinet. Thank the Lord I brought a large jar!“

Porthos nodded and fetched what was needed. Often enough, he’d helped Aramis take care of wounded comrades, and he knew his way around the infirmary. If Aramis hadn‘t been so anxious, dreading what was to come, he‘d be proud of him now.

Everything laid out within reach, Sister Marie pushed a bowl into Aramis‘ lap.

“Here,“ she said matter-of-factly. “Hold this. No need to ruin the floorboards, and it’ll keep your hands out of your face.”

Aramis grimaced.

“Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath through his mouth, Aramis steeled himself. This would not be pretty.

“Yes. Do it.”

Porthos stepped behind him, holding his shoulders. Without hesitation, sister Marie clasped Aramis’ nose between her fingers and gave it a quick, hard wrench. Aramis, eyes widening in shock, felt the bone snap back into place. The pain was monumental. The middle of his face seemed to explode. Briefly, his vision blackened, and he bent low over the bowl in his hands, blood dripping into it, waiting to either throw up or pass out.

“Oh God..” he moaned.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, and waves of nausea washed over him. He felt a cold cloth on his forehead and then at the back of his neck.

“Deep breaths through your mouth, Aramis,” he heard Sister Marie say. “Deep and slow..”

A hand - Porthos’ or hers - was rubbing circles across his back. It helped. Or maybe the pain simply lessened as he sat there and breathed.

Finally, he was able to lift his head and let Sister Marie inspect her work.

“Is it straight?” he asked, trepidation and the swelling making his voice sound strange.

Sister Marie smiled triumphantly.

“Good as new! Once the swelling goes down, that is. And you’ll have to be very careful!”

Porthos slapped Aramis’ shoulder - gently..

“You lucky bastard!

Aramis sighed in relief.

He still had a few unpleasant minutes to suffer through: Sister Marie stuffed both his nostrils with wool dipped into horsetail tincture, and Aramis didn’t know what was worse - the stink or the pain. Afterwards, she had him sit in his chair for an eternity, carefully cooling his swollen face with cold cloths. When his nose at least stopped swelling and the bleeding had stopped, she moved him to one of the beds and applied a thick layer of comfrey poultice to the bridge of his nose that dried out into a hard, itchy crust.

“It’ll peel off, and we will have to reapply it once or twice a day, depending on how good you are at lying still.”

Porthos frowned at her.

“He’ll have to stay in bed?”

“For a few days, yes. I want the bone to start growing back together before you move around again,” the nun explained, giving Aramis an encouraging pat on the leg. “And you’ll have to be extremely careful afterwards. No musketeering for you for a few weeks, I’m afraid.”

Aramis didn’t care. In bed, his head aching and his nose feeling twice its normal size, he was tired and grateful. He knew he was in for a lecture from Treville, and once Athos found out- Aramis swallowed. Athos was going to kill him. And he’d be the target of endless teasing from d’Artagnan.

None of that mattered now. Thanks to Sister Marie, he would not have to live with a disfigured face, although he knew he would probably deserve it. He’d learned his lesson this time. The next time a married woman - any woman - turned her head to smile at him, he would look the other way.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he said to Sister Marie, meaning it with all his heart. “You are a godsend!”

The nun nodded, rolling her eyes in playful reprimand.

“And you are a sinner, Aramis of the King’s Musketeers.” She chuckled. “But it seems even God is a little in love with your handsome face.”

(You can also read and comment on this story on AO3:)

#whumptober2021 #the musketeers #day 5 #prompt 5 #broken nose #fanfic #whump #hurt/comfort #aramis #porthos #bbc musketeers #sister marie

[wolf-and-bard]

@winter-fir: Sofia, my darling, this was written as a birthday present and with you in mind. Thank you for being such a delightful, funny, mad scientist genius friend, I love you. I wanted to give you some Arnaghad/Erland fluff and it didn’t turn out fluffy at all, it’s a rambly mess and I’m sorry. It did turn into a continuation and a prompt fill, I hope you don’t mind. 😂 I also hope you ate a lot of cake today ❤

Steal My Heart Again

Prompt: Isolation

Relationships: Arnaghad/Erland of Larvik

Rating: E

Content Warnings: apocalypse-appropriate sentiments (aka hopelessness), explicit sexual content, swear words, minor character death (past)

Summary: This is a sequel to Drown With Me If You Can. Erland and Arnaghad have made it to the safety of Kaer Seren’s cellars and have to face life during the apocalypse. They cope in different ways. In which: Erland wallows some more and Arnaghad wants cuddles. 

Word Count: ~3k

AO3 Link I @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

In the latter years of the 1130s, a conflict between the Northern Realms of Redania, Kaedwen, and Kovir and Poviss sprouted up in which Kovir and Poviss petitioned to gain sovereignty.

Erland pauses to ponder his next words and in that pause, becomes aware of something stirring.

Witchers usually sniff and listen before something breeches their line of sight, but with his beloved bear, it’s even more intense. Erland can hear the giant’s footsteps pound in tune with his own heart as soon as Arnaghad rises from his meditative perch at least four rooms down the hallway. Erland can smell the endorphins that chase each other through Arnaghad’s bloodstream as soon as he calls out for Erland, still far away. They have a different scent for every person and witcher picking up on them.

For Erland, Arnaghad’s contentedness smells like toasted white bread and strawberry jam. Conversely, Arnaghad is reminded of the concoction of oils and herbs he treats his old bearskin with so that it retains its texture whenever Erland smiles. Everything about Arnaghad is intense, as is the emotional knot Erland carries tucked between his lungs, the one that is made up of strings of the past and present that have become inevitably entangled. There is no easy emotion here and so Erland shoves them all aside in favour of putting down his next lines.

It came to pass that, under the supervision of the Hierarch of Novigrad, then Walter Beda, the rulers of the three countries met to negotiate the agreement. King Radovid III of Redania and King Benda of Kaedwen sailed on the Redanian flagship Alata to Lan Exeter where Gedovius Troyden, then Earl and later King of Kovir, met them, accompanied by his wife Gemma. Thus, the First Treaty of Lan Exeter was forged, and Kovir and Poviss gained the right to call themselves a kingdom.

Erland blows on the ink and the smell intensifies so much that his mouth waters. He glances to the side to see the bear appear in the hallway.

“There you are,” Arnaghad rumbles when he arrives at Erland’s small chamber which used to be a storage for barrels in need of repair. He shoulders through the narrow doorway without knocks or ceremony, and his bare feet slap against the stone, warmed by an underground pool of water which is suffused by heat from the earth’s core. With the White Frost raging outside the keep of Kaer Seren - in whose basement they currently reside in - even that heat will fade and freeze, but it has not been touched yet. They have not been touched yet, they made it to the safety of this hidden hearth and it nearly cost them their lives. “What are you doing, birdie?”

“Writing,” Erland says absent-mindedly and growls when Arnaghad’s hulking form blots out the light of half the torches as he approaches the makeshift desk. It’s a splintered plank of wood propped up on two empty barrels, a third one – overturned – functioning as the chair. The rest of the room is bare save for the rusted grates in which the torches reside and a wicker basket full of half-rotten corks. The griffins used to collect them to fashion floormats for the baths with. The griffins that now lay buried under rubble, only a story or two above Erland’s and Arnaghad’s heads. He tries not to think about that as he writes, writes, writes.

“Why, thank you dearest beloved, I had not figured that out for myself.”

Erland shrugs and bends further over his page. He is halfway through his account and he has to keep going while the words still come easily and his hand hasn’t cramped up. It tends to do that a lot these days, whether from writing, shovelling endless masses of snow or from stroking Arnaghad’s oversized cock. The first one is a need to preserve what might otherwise get lost, the second a necessity so their one exit from Kaer Seren doesn’t get blocked completely. The third activity is all pleasure and indulgence and re-learning the body of a man he thought lost to him for so long.

Arnaghad, the obnoxious idiot, steps closer and squints over Erland’s shoulder which truly sucks up the rest of the flickering illumination. His burly hand comes to rest on Erland’s head – now freshly shaven into his preferred undercut again with his hair woven into complex patterns Arnaghad yet remembers from his home – and his chin presses against Erland’s temple.

“’Kovir’s Independence and the First Treaty of Lan Exeter’,” Arnaghad reads out loud from the top of the page. “The fuck does this have to do with you? Are you trying to write a world history?”

“You forget where we are,” Erland murmurs and finishes his sentence, placing a small asterisk with a number ten atop the last word for yet another footnote.

“I haven’t.” Arnaghad plucks the feather from Erland’s hand and rises a little, takes the bent fingers into his own and strokes along them to straighten them out, one by one. Erland sighs and sags against the bear, letting fatigue wash over him, wash away his ambition for the day. “You forget where you are. Who you are and who you are with.”

“I might have,” he admits sheepishly and closes his eyes, listens to the faint gurgle of Arnaghad’s stomach. It’s a simple, well-crafted lie. Erland never forgets and how could he?

“I understood the journal,” Arnaghad says. “Well, I wasn’t willing to give my life for it as you were, but I understood why you wrote it. The ice might melt, the beasts might return and for that, whoever is to inhabit this world may need the information you captured. But this is unfathomable.”

“Of course, it would be to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” Erland says and melts as Arnaghad’s hands let go of his to gently massage his shoulders. It’s only when the static pain slowly ebbs away that Erland realizes just how long he’s been sitting hunched over his notes. Each word an investment with so little parchment leftover.

“Then what? Why are you doing this?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Erland sighs and ducks out of his lover’s grip to get up and pop his joints. Avoiding Arnaghad’s gaze, Erland extinguishes the torches with a flurry of precise Aards and makes to leave the room.

The bear wouldn’t understand in a million years why Erland writes the chronicle, would probably call it a waste of energy and resources. There is utility in writing a bestiary, there is only sentiment in writing a history. And perhaps a flicker of hope that whatever civilization rises from the rubble of the Ice Age will not repeat their forebearer’s mistakes. Except no. Erland may be an idealist at heart, but not enough that this hope has a chance of threading through the fabric of his motivation.

His motivation is woven in entirely selfish materials. It’s distraction, it’s occupation, it’s indulging in self-pity and nostalgia, melancholy and pride. It’s to keep himself from spiralling into depression and forgetfulness, to keep his brain from deterioration. Between fucking and eating and sleeping, Erland needs mental stimulation more than exercise.

Arnaghad, on the other hand, spends his hours in meditation and weapon-less drills, doing push-ups by the hundreds, handstands by the hours, pull-ups by the thousands. His massive body, in spite of the lethargy and sluggishness his form might suggest, needs constant movement. To prevent muscle atrophy and to keep himself alert and strong for whatever they have to face.

For now, what they have to face is endless isolation. Just the two of them, a slowly but steadily dwindling supply of dried meats and herbs, pickled vegetables and fruit, and barrels upon barrels of ale. Most of them brewed with the recipe Keldar perfected over decades of teaching young griffins to hold their alcohol alongside their swords.

Keldar.

Erland tries not to think of the old griffin master, especially tries not to think about how they found his body, a frozen statue before the crumpled gates of Kaer Seren, half-buried in snow by the time that Arnaghad and Erland fought their way to the keep. He’d survived the avalanche, had stayed at the school, and Erland had abandoned him. Him too.

Dear old Keldar, dutiful to his last moments. It was what every griffin would have done, every one except for Erland it seemed.

“Birdie,” Arnaghad says, tapping the side of Erland’s skull where his griffin tattoo decorates his shaved skin. They walk side by side, down the endless winding corridors of Kaer Seren’s basement system towards the centre where the heat is the most intense. It’s also where they set up their meagre bedroll, a heap of old linens with Erland’s quilt and Arnaghad’s bearskin on top. “You’re getting lost in your thoughts again.”

“What were you saying?” Erland asks and pushes open the door to their bedroom. Slap, slap, go Arnaghad’s feet as he enters while Erland’s follows after him. He wears both their socks, still more prone to the cold even down here.

“Nothing,” Arnaghad says. He stops in the middle of their room – all grey brick cast in flame from the torches Erland managed to keep perpetually burning. It’s a trick he perfected back when the signs where first developed where he can attach the power of a sign to an object. So, he tethered an Igni to each of the torches, and he did not tell Arnaghad that this constantly pulls on his own energy. The bear would worry and call that too a waste of resources. But Erland would rather be tired by firelight than wide-awake in perpetual darkness, calculating in his head the days that remain to them. “Come here, you look fatigued.”

Erland catches Arnaghad’s steady gaze, darkened by his heavy brow and chiselled face, a small smile tugging on his oh so stoic lips. His hair is neatly bound at the base of his skull, two ceremonial mini-braids framing his cheeks to either side. He wears naught but a simple set of beige linen clothes these days, linens that tug and pull at his bulging muscles. He’s more than a brick wall, he’s as unmoving as the very ground they stand on. Arnaghad cannot be taken apart with brute force, it takes more subtler means of attack to undo him. Erland knows them all intimately and perhaps that is exactly why Arnaghad opens his arms to him then. Erland sighs. He has the rest of Radovid III’s reign to chronicle and his stomach is still on fast-mode. The only reason he came here in the first place was… to… Erland sneezes and the torches flicker. He knows when he’s defeated.

“I am tired,” he admits and crosses the distance between them. If ever there is such a space, unbridgeable at times, invisible at others, it is because Erland put it there. Not intentionally and not always happily, but if things went Arnaghad’s way, they would be close always. The man that envelops Erland in a tight hug has a constant hunger for touch and affection, and Erland has trouble having that piece slide into the greater mosaic he has constructed of his lover over the past centuries.

‘You’re getting old and sappy,’ Erland said to him once, three orgasms into the night and Arnaghad still insisted on holding him close. ‘Sappy and cuddly. I do not recognize you.’

‘Nor I myself,’ Arnaghad replied. If they were other people they might have attributed it to love, how it had overcome everything, how, here at the end of all things, it was them against the apocalypse. How they needed to hold onto each other for there was nothing else to hold onto. But Erland is an idealist, not a romantic, and Arnaghad a pragmatist, not an intellectual, and so that was where the conversation died then.

“You should rest more,” Arnaghad says.

“What a waste of time,” Erland replies and rises to the tips of his toes, uses Arnaghad’s bull neck for purchase to pull himself up. They’re barely eye to eye, but that doesn’t matter when he can finally tilt his head and kiss the tiny frown from Arnaghad’s face. It’s a matter of last resort as well as personal pleasure. Erland is in no mood to argue about his newfound hobby and he does want. Wants so much, so deeply it aches to the core of his bones. They’re still working through their differences – and that, he suspects, will take longer than any written history might – but with each day, Erland can allow himself a little more. He can allow himself to slot their lips together and push his tongue deeply into Arnaghad’s mouth, can allow himself to melt into his bear’s arms and let his rumbling groan rattle his skeleton. Erland smiles at the zealous manner in which Arnaghad’s whole body responds to the kiss. His hands, splayed across Erland’s shoulder blades, tighten, his cock stirs when Erland licks and sucks and adds a moan of his own, his shoulders rise. He’s so passionate, has so much to give, something that Erland has trouble keeping up with.

If half of this witcher had been the one leading the bear school, where could it have climbed to? What could it have accomplished if the abysses between its members hadn’t been quite so gaping? Erland tries not to wonder, tries not to rewrite the course of time in endless thought spirals, but it’s so hard. It’s another reason why he has to focus on the actual past. Because if he doesn’t remind himself that it is set in stone, if he doesn’t capture it with his own words, he starts to trail down the paths of forgotten ‘what ifs’, of unforgettable ‘what ifs’, of the ‘what ifs’ that are neither forgotten nor unforgettable, that are too daring to even consider. Erland loses himself in thought and it is then perhaps a blessing that he can lose himself in Arnaghad’s embrace instead.

“Do you think we could have dinner tonight?” Arnaghad asks after they part, even though he knows the answer. It’s worrying, a true sign that not even Arnaghad has an endless reservoir of energy. His hunger is much more vicious than Erland’s and it’s getting harder and harder for him to wait the intervals they settled on in order to stretch the food as long as they can. Usually, he doesn’t ask. Usually, his voice doesn’t sound so small. Fuck. It’s heart-breaking.

“Not yet, big bear, I’m sorry,” Erland sighs and noses along Arnaghad’s jaw, then sinks back down to his feet and presses his face into the crook of his neck. Wraps his arms around Arnaghad’s middle. Is proud when he doesn’t do the mental math right then and there. No, he won’t torment himself and he won’t succumb to the slight growl Arnaghad gives. Whether it’s from his throat or his stomach doesn’t really matter. The sound pierces Erland’s armour, but it doesn’t shatter. He’s still strong. Can still be strong. “Do you want me to distract you?”

“Ah, birdie, didn’t we just talk about how you’re tired?”

“I’d make a joke about being hungry myself,” Erland mutters, then licks over Arnaghad’s pulse point insistently. “But last I checked, your sense of humour is still as barren as the Korath desert.”

Arnaghad chuckles and the motion slightly shakes Erland where he rests against the bear’s chest. He lets his hand slide down to gingerly palm across Arnaghad’s half-hard cock and it rises to the touch, firms up. He closes his eyes and sucks on his own bottom lip. So easy to please.

“Says the man who thinks fun is a torture device,” Arnaghad retorts on a sigh and as such, it lacks an edge. Erland deftly plucks at the fastenings of the linen trousers and slips his hand into them. Arnaghad’s flesh is hot and solid, too big to wrap his fingers around.

“Alas,” Erland murmurs against the skin of Arnaghad’s neck, cranes his own to nibble on the bear’s jawbone, tracing it with his tongue. “My hand is tried from writing all morning.”

“All day more like,” Arnaghad grumbles.

“Even worse. It’s of no use now.” And with that, he gently guides Arnaghad to the corner where their makeshift bed is, bids him to sit down and takes his own place in Arnaghad’s lap with his belly pressed to the warm floor. Propped up on his elbows, Erland peers up at Arnaghad. From this low, the man seems taller than a mountain, his eyes far away, half-lidded and hazy and Erland smiles. He is tired, yes, so very tired, and that means he is sloppy. Sloppy as he descends over the head of Arnaghad’s massive cock which tastes salty and musky and he laps it all up he goes with lazy drags of his tongue. His lips are loose and his hands looser as they fondle Arnaghad’s cock at the base, toy with his balls.

Before long, spit leaks out of the corners of his mouth and runs down Arnaghad’s length and the low moans of the bear thunder through the hall, echo off the walls, loud enough to raise the dead, Erland thinks sometimes. He wishes he could revive his brothers and sons by cock-sucking alone, but the world has never been that simple. And it won’t ever be now. But if he can give Arnaghad pleasure and himself something to get distracted by then that should be enough.

Erland gets drunk on Arnaghad’s cock, chokes on it as he ruts into the floor without shame. They come within seconds of each other and Erland drinks up what he can, lets the rest spill over Arnaghad’s lap, then cleans that with his tongue too. After, he falls asleep there, curled into a ball in Arnaghad’s lap and it is enough. For now.

#witcher #tw3 #witcher rarepair summer bingo #jo does wrsb #arnaghad x erland #erland/arnaghad #isolation #sequel #my writing #cw oral sex #cw hopelessness #cw swear words #arnaghad #erland of larvik #minor character death

[joaquinwhorres]

Feeling the Love (Lee Jordan x OC)

SUMMARY ››››› Nora and Lee dance at Fred and Wren’s wedding.

WORD COUNT ››››› 1,078

A/N ››››› More AU!Jordolph but from a different part in their alternate timeline. Also, this was supposed to be a drabble, but the more I wrote, the more it got out of hand. I think I’ll end up writing more to this scene later.

“Nora Randolph, why are you hiding by the desserts table?”

Nora’s head snapped up, away from the glittering petit fours and towards Lee Jordan who grinned at her. His tie hung loose around his neck, and he had a glass of champagne in his hand.

“If I was hiding, you wouldn’t have found me,” Nora sassed, turning the rest of her body to face him. Her lips twisted up into a smile as Lee’s eyes danced in the lantern light.

“I think you might be underestimating how perceptive I am.”

“I think you may need to talk to Wren about our excellent games of Seeker and Snitch.”

Lee laughed loudly at this, shaking his head and stepping even closer, to a reasonable conversation distance. Nora found her gaze once again drifting down his suit. His incredibly well tailored suit. Her eyes shot back up to his, and she found him staring at her. He raised both eyebrows, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Are you checking me out, Nora Randolph?”

Her cheeks grew warm, but she smiled nonetheless. “Maybe a little. You look good in a suit."

Lee’s smirk turned softer, sunnier. “Thank you. And so you know--” he said, stepping a bit closer and bending down to whisper to her, as if they were co-conspirators. “That dress looks absolutely dazzling on you as well.”

Nora exhaled a disbelieving laugh, and turned her head away from him, trying to ignore the tight feeling in her stomach. “Honestly, Nora,” Lee pressed, and she looked back at him, eyebrows raised as if already disbelieving whatever came next. “You look particularly gorgeous tonight.”

Her skin prickled, feeling hot and electric, especially with Lee still standing so close. “You’re a smooth-talker, Lee Jordan.”

He winked at her and drew back a bit, the cool night air invading her space in his absence.

“Speaking of smooth, you should know that I’ve been working on my dancing. I’ve got some excellent moves now,” Lee said, extending his hand to her.

Nora let out a quick laugh, but slid her hand into his, allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor. “Something tells me that my toes are going to regret this.”

“Your toes will be fine,” Lee dismissed, stopping once he found a clear space and turning back into her. His hand slid around her waist, holding gently onto her back as his other hand took hers into his. “Slow songs are my forte,” he said, leading her into a step as if to prove his point. Seeing as he did not trod on her foot, she had a small bit of hope that he truly had improved.

“So, Nora,” Lee started, and she smiled, looking up at him. She liked the way he said her name. Not so much the voice--but the fact that he called her by her name frequently. She’d missed that about him in the last few years. He’d never been able to say her name on Potterwatch, and it wasn’t the same being called Radiance. “How are you?”

She could have laughed. The one question she’d been avoiding all night, and here he was getting right to it. He always had a knack for seeing into her. It had been unnerving at first, but now it felt like a priceless sort of comfort--a true luxury--to be seen. “I’m alive,” Nora answered back.

She’d given the answer before, plenty of times, and everyone had nodded their heads solemnly and passed along condolences and shared stories of those lost. It shut down all further talk and introspection into how she was coping or what her plans were now that she wasn’t focused on winning a war. 

“And thank Merlin for that,” Lee nodded to her. 

“Merlin, Wren, you--there were a good number of people who had a hand in it,” Nora quipped, and Lee laughed before sobering up. “So I’m guessing we’re about the same then, both of us. Alive.” 

The look in his eyes told her that he understood what the answer meant. The relief and wariness and joy and grief wrapped up into it. To be alive after the Battle of Hogwarts was a blessing and a burden. 

"Let’s talk about something else then,” Nora suggested, and while Lee never let her skirt around a topic while they were at school, he didn’t attempt to stop her when she started her next question. “Who do you think is going to pair off with who tonight?” 

“What?”

“It’s a wedding, Lee. People--people are inevitably going to be feeling the love.”

“Are you feeling the love?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Answer my question first.” 

Lee heaved an exaggerated sigh before peering around the room, his gaze jumping from group to group before he looked back down at Nora.  “Angelina and George.” 

“They’re dating!” Nora huffed, slapping at Lee’s arm, and he spun her quickly as if that was enough to distract her. The jolt of fear that her feet might be crushed any moment did prevent her from giving him a harder time.

“They’re not officially dating,” Lee protested, and Nora rolled her eyes, standing on her tip toes so she could look over his shoulder. 

“Well, Alicia is not going home with whoever it is she’s talking to,” Nora said, nodding at the pair. Alicia’s strained smile was looking more and more like a grimace as the man she was talking to spoke more and more animatedly. Her wine glass never dipped below her shoulders. 

“I think that’s one of the twins’ investors,” Lee said, furrowing his brow at the two. 

“You don’t suppose we should go save her, do you?” Nora asked, watching as Alicia nodded, taking a long sip out of her wine. 

Lee turned his attention back to her. “She’ll be fine. Unless you’re trying to save yourself from spending any more time with me.” 

“Lee, I would happily spend the rest of the night with you,” Nora said, her eyes still on Alicia and the other man before her whole body stiffened at the realization of what her words could mean. She looked back up at Lee, ready to insist that the words came out wrong, but instead he shot her a wink. 

“Good to know you’re feeling the love.”

Nora reached up and flicked his ear, but he just laughed and pulled her a bit closer.  

#lee jordan fic #lee jordan drabble #lee jordan imagine #lee jordan x oc #post war harry potter #oc: nora randolph #AU!The Fool #Fred + Wren's wedding #lee jordan fanfiction #lee jordan #ship: jordolph

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Switched

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC)

Story Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic / Humor

Story Warnings: Body swapping, Foreplay (fingering / hand job), Masturbation, Sex (vaginal), Implied oral at the end, Alcohol, Intoxication, Cursing, Degrading dirty talk

Words: 7,447

a/n: This was incredibly difficult, awkward, and confusing to write, but I had a lot of fun with it and I hope it’s not too all over the place! I also hope no one gets too confused reading it but... either way, enjoy!

Written for the @bnhabookclub​​ ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Body Swap

Bingo Masterlist

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Art in banner by me

“Uh… Katsuki-” Koge choked on her own voice, covering her mouth as she peered down at her lover in complete shock. Or, well, she was technically staring down at… herself? What had happened? How the hell was she staring down at herself, her own pale blue gaze locked on her with just as much confusion. Her eyes that she had only ever seen through a reflection grew from surprised to absolutely horrified, skin growing pale - or, paler - as her body began to tremble.

“W-what the fuck, why do I-- wait, that’s not--!” Mimicking Koge’s previous movements of covering her mouth, the petite woman took a few steps back, looking up and down the body that Koge herself currently inhabited. “Not my voice! Why are you--? How did we--?!” 

Taking in a deep breath through her nose, Koge finally looked down at her body, squeaking out in shock at the view she had of a muscular torso clad in a black tank top. Next, her large hands moved up into her hair, feeling around the shortness of the soft locks that she was highly familiar with. 

“Don’t make that sound with my voice!” 

“Your voice?” Koge looked back down at Bakugou, and she could now, without a doubt, confirm the horrible and shocking truth. 

The two of them had switched bodies. 

“Katsuki, how the hell did this happen?” Koge took a few steps forward, placing both of her hands on Bakugou’s cheeks, though the size of them threw her off, nearly poking him in the eye. With a scoff and a snarl that Koge had never seen on her own face before, Bakugou smacked her hands away, frantically looking around them for the source of what had caused this catastrophe. 

“That person that bumped into us earlier! It had to have been them! Where the fuck did they go?” Bakugou began his trek back down the sidewalk the way the couple had originally come, white hair flipping and bobbing in its high ponytail as he looked around with snappy and rushed movements. People around them were also quite confused, stepping out of his way to avoid the fuming tiny body. Not wanting him to get too far away from her, Koge trotted after him, her newfound long legs making it quite easy to catch up. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Katsuki, we didn’t even see what he looked like, we can’t just go storming through the streets like this.” 

“No, I saw what he looked like!” Bakugou tried to look back at her, though his gaze instinctively went down, instead landing on Koge’s thighs. Embarrassment flashed across his face before he looked up, catching Koge’s gaze only for a moment before becoming visibly frustrated. “We can’t stay like this!” 

“I know that we can’t, Katsuki, but there are literally hundreds of people out right now. And you… don’t have a quirk that can get you up high anymore…” Koge timidly fiddled with her unfamiliar blunt nails, brow furrowed in worry. “I don’t know what to do about it.” 

“He was a fucking bald dude. And don’t pick at my nails, they’re short enough as it is!” Bakugou slapped her hands, though he did step in closer. “Take us up onto that building! I have my hero license if someone tries to stop us--” 

“I can’t use your quirk!” Her voice went higher than she had ever heard Bakugou’s in her panic, and the annoyance was visible on Bakugou’s face as his nose scrunched up. “Katsuki I wouldn’t even know how to activate it. And what if I did too strong of an explosion? I could kill people!” With a shake of her head, Koge shoved her hands into her pockets firmly. “No, I won’t even try--” 

“-- But we gotta find that asshole!” 

“I know we do, my love, but that just isn’t safe! We still have to be responsible…” 

“Then what do we do?” 

Koge looked up and down the sidewalk, giving a heavy sigh as she gazed over the bobbing heads of the packed crowds walking around them. “We just… we’ll have to look for him on foot, I guess. Let’s just go down the way we came from and I’ll try to spot him. You said bald? Anything else?” 

Falling oddly silent, Bakugou’s face flushed in agitation, both of his hands clutching onto the hem of the skirt Koge had worn that day. The longer he stood there silently, trying to coordinate his thoughts, the more his body began to tremble. 

“I… can’t remember…” Bakugou grumbled, eyes falling to look down at the sidewalk in defeat. “And there’s a million bald bastards in this city. Fuck!” 

Frowning, Koge caressed Bakugou’s arms gently, momentarily surprised at the way his entire hand could easily wrap around her body's upper arm. She truly was a tiny woman, though seeing it from this point of view was shocking. “Katsuki, let’s just… Why don’t we go to the police? If I was paying attention correctly, he seemed to bump into us very purposefully… I wonder if he’s doing these things to couples and random people to cause trouble.” 

Suddenly, Bakugou’s eyes lit up, as if a lightbulb had gone off inside his brain. “Ah, wait…! Shit.” Fumbling with the small purse slung over his shoulder, Bakugou pulled out Koge’s phone, poking the screen with lightning fast panic before holding the phone up to his ear. While they waited for whoever it was to answer, Koge used her grip on his arm to pull him off to the side into a little alleyway between businesses, so that they wouldn’t be in the way and she could possibly hear the conversation as well. 

“Put it on speaker--” 

With another glance up at her, Bakugou did so, holding the phone between them as they listened to it ring. Finally, a ring cut off, the cheery voice of their close friend ringing through the air. 

“Koge! Hey, how’s it going?” 

“It’s not Koge, shittyhair, it’s me!” 

“What? You sound like Koge, but she never calls me that.” 

“It’s me, Bakugou!” 

“Bakugou? Uh… Koge, is this like… a prank?” 

Tensing up with teeth clenched in a snarl, Bakugou nearly looked like he was about to throw the phone on the ground, even squatting down slightly in his typical aggressive posture with his other hand held up in agitation. “No-!” 

“N-no, Eijirou, it’s not a prank. Just… something happened, I’m not sure why Bakugou called you--” Koge interrupted, stepping in a bit closer to not only make sure that Kirishima could hear her clearly, but also to keep Bakugou from breaking her phone. 

“Okay, this is really trippy, man. You’re not messing with me?” 

“Just listen to me!” Bakugou barked loudly, startling Koge enough to make her jump. “You know that fucking guy we got a report on yesterday? The bitch that is making people switch bodies?” Koge caught Bakugou’s gaze, though the glare he gave her told her to hold her tongue for a moment. “What’d it say? It wasn’t in my jurisdiction, so I didn’t pay much attention to it.” 

“That’s not very hero-ish of you, man, you should pay attention to all of--” 

“I don’t need a fucking lecture, asshole!” 

“Wow, it’s so weird to hear Koge talk like this! Okay, okay. Yeah, I remember, what about it?” 

“Did they say anything about the quirk? How long it lasts or what to do if you get hit by it?” Seeming comforted by the fact that Kirishima knew what he was talking about, Bakugou’s posture relaxed, standing up straight with his free hand firmly on his hip. Koge had to admit that seeing her body acting out all these familiar reactions was very trippy, especially since she had grown quite desensitized from years and years of being with Bakugou. 

“Oh, wait, did you really get hit with it--?” 

“Are you shitting me right now?!” Bakugou barked, even somehow producing his signature growl using Koge’s meek voice. “Would I be asking if it hadn’t happened?!” 

“Oh, true, I guess. Uh, yeah, they said that it goes away on its own after a few days-” 

“Days?!” 

“Yeah, man. Just lay low for a while. You’re on vacation anyway, aren’t you? No one has to know! I won’t tell.” 

“Don’t fucking talk to anyone about it. Not even Curls, got it?!” As he gave an aggressive point at the phone screen, Koge had to hold back a laugh and keep her snide comments to herself. She couldn’t help a little snort from escaping, however, and Bakugou’s finger moved to her, as did his warning glare that this statement applied to her, too. 

“Haha, don’t worry, Nene won’t hear it from me! Ya need anything else, man? I actually have a villain like… tied up right now-” 

“And you still answered the fucking phone?” 

“Well yeah, why wouldn’t I?” 

Bakugou gave a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, mumbling to himself at the idiocy of his best friend. “Alright. Thanks.” 

“No problem! Later!” 

With the farewell, Bakugou hung up the call, turning his annoyed glare up to Koge, who released a small sigh in relief. “Well, Katsuki, I guess… We should do that?” 

Putting the phone away, Bakugou shook his head, turning his glare out to watch the people passing by. “I fucking hate it. I want to be able to catch that fucker.” How antsy he had become was visible, as if he were hanging on the tips of his toes to run off again and search the entire city himself. That would be a fruitless venture, and if Koge didn’t come up with some way to pull him back, he was going to go trotting around in her body and cause who knows how much trouble. 

“I know, love.” Koge took both of his hands again gently, unable to help the small smile on her lips at how Bakugou’s cheeks flushed at her touch. “But don’t worry. It’ll pass. How about we just continue on with our day?” 

“There’s no fucking way I’m going to a movie and shit like this, Utsuro. Let’s just go home.” How quickly he gave in was quite surprising, his brow furrowing in helplessness. “I feel fucking weird standing out here in a damn skirt, anyway. Couldn’t you have worn hose or leggings? Something besides just these fucking underwear that are all the way up my crack!” 

Koge instantly burst out in a choked laugh, covering her lips with one hand to try and hide her amused smile. “Well, someone told me to wear those earlier while we were getting ready. They look cute, but they’re really uncomfortable.” 

“Then why do you wear them!?” 

“Because they’re your favorite right now. Though I bet that’s gonna change now that you gotta walk all the way home in them.” Koge placed both her hands on his cheeks, pushing white bangs out of the way to press a sweet kiss on his forehead. “Or, if you really want, just slip them off and put them in the purse. No one will know unless the wind blows the skirt up.” 

Growling as his face flushed a dark crimson from the affection, Bakugou gripped onto both of her hands, digging the tips of his fingers between her palms and his cheeks. “Don’t use my body to kiss yours! It’s weird! And no, I’m not going to pussy out and take them off. If you can deal with them for me, then I can take it.” Even though his voice was aggressive, the softness in his gaze as he looked up at her gave away how appreciative he was of her calming and distracting him. 

Ignoring his command, Koge gave him another smooch on the forehead before releasing him, though one of his hands stayed clutched onto hers tightly. “Let’s go home, then. We can just get tipsy off whisky and watch stupid horror movies instead.” 

“I need to get fucking wasted to handle this shit.” Bakugou began to storm out of the ally, tugging her along by the hand, even though he was nearly pulled back just from the sturdiness of his muscular original body. “Fuck, walk, would’ya!?” 

“I am!” Koge kept up with him, though she let out an audible groan only a few steps down the sidewalk, shoving her free hand into her pocket nervously. “I’m going to bump into all these people, I know it. I’m not used to being this huge!” 

“And you think it’s easy for me to be this small?!” Bakugou scoffed, glaring up at Koge out of the corner of his eye. “You’re a shrimp! I feel like anyone could just step on me. I hate it.” 

“Your dick is also super weird feeling,” Koge mumbled barely loud enough for Bakugou to hear. “It jiggles around when I walk, why do you wear such loose pants and boxers?” 

“Maybe because I like the freedom? Be grateful I even wore boxers today, you know I usually don’t with sweatpants.” 

“It’s weird! I feel like I need to walk with my legs spread-” 

“-Don’t, you’ll make me look like a dipshit!” 

“Oh, hm. Then I’m gonna do it, all the way home, and tomorrow there will be reports of the great Ground Zero walking around like he has a stick up his ass.” 

“Utsuro…!” 

…

They returned home within the hour, having bickered most of the way back on how to properly carry each other’s bodies and basic etiquette concerning skirts, which Bakugou failed to follow, as he demonstrated quite well by nearly flashing everyone while not holding the skirt down as a train flew past in the station. Koge was quick to hold it down for him, even if his initial reaction and bark not to touch his ass pulled in more attention than a little cheeky peek would have. 

Otherwise it was a cacophony of “don’t slouch”, “you can’t just reach into your shirt to fix your bra in front of everyone”, “pull up your pants, they’re too far down your ass”, “don’t play pocket pool, everyone can see”, “stop frowning so much, you’ll give my face permanent wrinkles”, and whatever other little thing the couple could find to nitpick. 

By the time they walked through the door to their apartment, Bakugou was beyond agitated, taking off his shoes before storming into the kitchen. “I’m not leaving this damn place until we’re normal again! Not for anything!” 

With a small roll of her eyes at his attitude, Koge took her shoes off as well, leaving them at the entrance. Following her lover, she immediately burst out into laughter at the sight of him trying to reach up to their alcohol stash, which was on a cabinet shelf that she could never reach, not without the help of a chair, a stool, or a strong man. “What’s the matter, Katsuki? A little short, aren't cha?” 

“I fucking swear Utsuro, I will destroy your stupid ass!” 

“So you’ll destroy yourself? Doesn’t sound very productive.” Smirk on her lips, Koge slipped her hands under his arms, grabbing him by the armpits to easily hoist him up. “Up you go!” 

Flailing, Bakugou didn’t even bother to grab the alcohol, snatching the skirt and holding it against his hips as a shocked squeak left his lips. “Hey! You bitch, put me down!” 

Koge sputtered a chuckle, giving a roll of her eyes as she nudged him towards the cabinet. “Oh my god, Katsuki, it’s literally my body, why are you hiding yourself! Get the whisky!” 

“I don’t need your help!” 

“Love, I know better than anyone that you do need my help.” 

“I’m not a fucking child-!” 

“-Just get it and I’ll let you down!”

Huffing in defiance, Bakugou glared up at the bottle of alcohol before snatching it, holding it tightly to his chest before slamming the cabinet door closed. “Put me the fuck down!” 

“But you’re so light! I could just carry you forever. Like my own little pocket Katsuki,” Koge plopped him down onto his feet, putting her hands triumphantly on her hips as she smiled down at him, though all she received in return was a flustered glare. 

“Don’t ever pick me up again.” 

“No?” Smile turning sly, Koge placed both of her hands firmly against the edge of the countertop, arms on either side of his body and trapping him in place. “I promise I won’t do it again. If you give me a kiss.” 

Bakugou’s cheeks flushed all the way to his ears, immediately shaking his head. “No! Utsuro, that’s weird! That’s like kissing myself.” 

“Nuh uh, you’re just kissing me.” 

“You could kiss your own body and not be creeped out?” Glowering up at her, Bakugou popped the cork out of the whisky bottle, holding it tightly by the neck. Koge sighed, letting her head hang for a moment as she met his glare with one of her own. 

“Katsuki. I want you to think of all the other weird shit we’ve done. You shove your fingers and your dick in my mouth during and after fucking me all the time. You eat me out - pussy and ass - and then kiss me. Honestly. You think I’m scared of kissing myself? Also,” Koge shifted her weight to the other foot, smile returning to her lips. “You have no excuses to be grossed out, either. You literally ate me out the other day, even after you had already cum in me. And you let me kiss you after sucking you off and everything else, too. No excuses.” 

Falling silent in contemplation, Bakugou brought the bottle up to his lips, taking a decent swig of the dark liquid. “Why do you always have to have a rational reasoning for everything? I love that about you, but sometimes it pisses me off, ‘cause I can never win!” 

“Soooo?” Koge’s smile grew, eyes growing brighter with her victory. “Kiss?” 

Aggressively snatching onto the front of Koge’s shirt, Bakugou yanked her down, allowing their lips to press together in an awkward and uncoordinated mess. Koge was quick to try and recover it, however, taking hold of his cheeks and using her memory of the way he kissed her to mimic his movement and position. Bakugou wasn’t quite able to do the same, his smaller mouth a bit awkward for him, but neither seemed to mind when Koge pulled away. She nearly burst out into laughter at how incredibly red his face was, giving him one more peck on the lips before pulling away. 

“Don’t be so shy, Katsuki! You have really soft lips, you know, you should enjoy it.” 

“Yeah but your mouth is so fucking tiny, I felt like you were going to eat my face.” 

“Well, we have a few days to practice. Maybe it’ll make us better kissers when we’re normal again.” 

“You’re not getting another kiss, that was it.” 

“I dunno, Katsuki. Who knows what that whisky will make you feel like in my body.” 

…

As the sun set, the couple sat on the couch in their living room, watching whatever movie looked the most absurd. By now, the two of them had finished off the bottle of whisky, with Bakugou being the one to really go at it. Even though Koge had just as much as he had, she wasn’t feeling anything more than a little buzz, her body relaxed and eyes feeling heavy with the weight of alcohol. But, at the other end of the couch from where she sat, Bakugou seemed to be barely holding himself together. 

Koge had warned him, though. She had told him that she was a total lightweight, and getting drunk was incredibly, and almost frighteningly, easy for her. Still, here he was, drinking like he was still in his own body. Pushed right to the edge of no longer being coherent or truly conscious of his actions or surroundings, Koge had taken the whisky away and put it up, leaving Bakugou to pout and whine. She could deal with it, since it was better than having to take care of him while he puked on the floor. Thankfully, they had a lot of snacks, too, so that helped to offset the intoxication just a little bit. 

That didn’t help his attitude, though. Frustrated that she had taken the whisky away from him, he plopped himself on the other end of the couch, a permanent pout on his lips as he watched the television with hazy focus. She had tried to get him to return to cuddles, but he was being stubborn, so in the end, she let him sit alone to pout until he got lonely on his own. 

“This movie is the worst.” Koge mumbled as she plopped some popcorn into her mouth, giving a sigh as she stretched out her legs along the couch, giving a small groan as they crackled and popped at the joints. “Jeez, Katsuki, your body is so sore! What the hell have you been doing that’s different with your workouts?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Bakugou mumbled, ignoring her feet as they rested against his thigh. “Whisky thief.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Koge tossed some popcorn at him, hitting him in the cheek and making him jump. Huffing, Bakugou picked up the piece and threw it back, only to be pelted with at least five more pieces. “Stop, ya salty bitch!” 

“You’re the salty bitch tonight.” Koge tossed another, only for Bakugou to somehow successfully catch it in his mouth despite his incoordination. “Ooh, nice one, babe. Even shitfaced you can still catch popcorn.” 

“I am not shitfaced.” Bakugou began to pick up the pieces of popcorn that had fallen over his body, though one was particularly difficult as it fell between the impressive cleavage he now sported. “Damn you and your big tits!” 

“What?! You love my tits, don’t act like that.” Koge’s attention was pulled back to the television with the sound of a particularly horrific scream, the gruesome death scene doing nothing to perturb her. “Aw, poor thing. Getting chopped up by a meat cleaver.” 

“Oh damn, is that the sexy one?” 

“Nah, it’s her friend. The sexy one is still off with her boyfriend.” 

“The sexy one needs to come back, she looks like you.” Bakugou let out a belch, reaching out to grab the bottle of water Koge had given to him to drink. “I can’t look at you, so I have to look at her instead.” 

Koge gave a small chortle, having to control herself to not burst out laughing as water accidentally dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin, once again landing on his chest and slipping down into his cleavage. “Katsuki, you can look at me. Just look down, you are literally in my body.” 

“It’s not the same… Fuck!” Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he grumbled in annoyance to himself, nearly missing the table while attempting to put the water bottle back in its place. “Why is this table so fucking far away.” 

“It’s not. You drunk.” 

“Fuck off. Ooh damn, there she is. How much she looks like you is fucking crazy. Oh shit, they’re getting frisky.” Bakugou settled back against the couch, intently focused on the TV to his highest capability. 

“Do you love her more than me?” 

“I want to fucking bone the shit out of you, Utsuro, but I can’t, so all I can do is stare at this cunt who looks like you.” 

“So vicious. What if that was me? What if I’ve been a secret actor my whole life?” 

“I said that she looked like you, but that doesn’t mean she’s exactly like you. You’re way fucking hotter than that bitch. Also, her fake moans sound like shit.” Pulling out another piece of popcorn that he had previously forgotten on his lap, Bakugou ate it, effectively ending that conversation as the hated fake moans filled the room. As the sex scene went on, Koge found herself watching for when they would be attacked by the murderer, but there was something that bothered her about it. 

It was so damn long and more realistic than what she was used to seeing in B-rated horror movies. Usually they were quick and to the point before the couple got interrupted or murdered while fucking. But this seemed to be going on forever, and she was about to make a snide comment about it when she noticed something out of her peripheral. 

Bakugou was moving, however miniscule, and how long it had gone unnoticed wasn’t something Koge was sure about. From what she could tell without looking at him directly, he seemed to have his hands up inside the tank top he was wearing, massaging and squeezing his chest. What was more, she could hear his more hitched and deep breathing behind the sounds coming from the TV, truly giving away exactly what he was doing. 

Is he seriously touching my body? He really must be horny. 

Holding her breath so she could hear him better, Koge clutched on tightly to the bowl of popcorn still sitting on her lap, a heat rising into the tips of her ears. Why would he be doing that with her sitting right here? Could he really just not wait, or was this some kind of signal that he didn’t care about the circumstances and wanted to fuck anyway? There was also the possibility that he was so wasted that he just completely forgot that she was even there. 

With a particular loud hitching of his breath, Koge felt an unfamiliar twitch between her legs, becoming quite hyper aware of the pulsing presence pushing up against the bowl. Oooh god, I have a boner! Damn, this is bad! 

Adjusting the way she was sitting so that she could put the bowl down, she tried to sit with her legs in different positions, but in the end, she found that any position didn’t hide her affliction. Faster than she could even prepare herself, the cock she had always adored and craved was hard and pressing up uncomfortably against the sweatpants she wore. It was so sensitive, every little twitch to shifting of the fabric against it making her body tingle and crave for contact. 

She had always wondered what it felt like to have a boner, but now that she did, she could understand why Bakugou got incredibly frustrated and impatient. The urge to fuck that came with it was familiar to her, but damn was it difficult to not just start stroking it. 

“You got a fucking boner, Utsuro?” 

Koge nearly jumped out of her skin at Bakugou’s voice, finally finding the courage to look at him. Leaning back and sunk down a bit with feet placed firmly on the floor, Bakugou was still playing with his breasts beneath the tank, the shape and movement of his hands visible beneath the thin fabric. Although Koge wanted to watch, her gaze was locked with his, the heat in her ears spreading across her cheeks to the tip of her nose. 

“I… So what if I do?” Koge huffed, once again trying to hide her hips with her arms. “I’m not the one touching myself. Look at you, squeezing your - my - tits like a horny teenager who’s never seen them before. Are you even listening?!” 

Bakugou leaned his head back, mouth open in a choked moan and eyes fluttering closed, fingers clearly clamped down tightly around his hard nipples. “Fuck, your tits are so perfect and sensitive. No wonder you scream when I bite them.” 

Koge’s stomach began to bubble with nervous arousal, wishing so desperately to scoot over and join him. “What… made you want to start that?” 

“I don’t fucking know. I think… that even though I’m in your body… It still naturally reacts to things that would turn you on before, on top of my attraction to your body, I just… Fuck, I just needed to feel something!” 

At first, the theory that he proposed seemed reasonable, especially with the way Bakugou’s original body reacted just to hearing the soft and sensual gasps he had been making. Normally, just a sultry little giggle could turn Bakugou on like a furnace and his hands would be latched to her body in seconds. He adored her voice, and she loved his, but it was such a strange sensation to be turned on by her original sounds. Or maybe that wasn’t the case, and this entire theory was just drunken ramblings, his mind trying to come up with anything to rationalize what he was feeling. 

A fire rushed down Koge’s spine as Bakugou pushed the tank up over his chest, letting his breasts fall free before he took hold of them again. In the dim blue glow of the TV, Koge could see that his nipples were puffy and dark pink from the abuse, telling her that he was really going strong. The cock between her legs once again twitched impatiently at the sight, strained against the fabric that concealed it. Unsure of what else to do, she cupped it in her hand, trying to hold it in hopes that the touch would at least help a little. All it did was make the blush on her face grow hotter as she could feel it pulsing, only able to imagine the way it always felt so good being shoved down her throat. 

“How’s it feel, Utsuro? Huh? To have a dick so hard that you feel crazy, with no pussy or mouth to stick it in.” One of Bakugou’s hands left his breasts, slipping down between his legs to rub his sex on the outside of his underwear. A simple stroke to the unfamiliar and sensitive clit had him trembling, biting lazily at his bottom lip. “Fuck… You have such a slutty body. It’s weird to see it like this… To touch you as you.” 

Koge began to palm up and down the length of the cock in her hand, watching him continue to pleasure himself. “You’re the worst, you know that. You go on and on, refusing to even let me kiss you, and now you’re over there touching yourself and saying all that dirty shit.” 

“Fuck off. I don’t need you to get off, I can make your body cum myself and be done with it. You can go jack off in the bathroom or right there, I don’t fucking care.” Being familiar with her body and how to touch her, Bakugou’s hand was quick to slip inside his underwear, fingers immediately starting to plunge in and out of him. Though, Koge was immediately able to recognize the slightly confused furrow of his brow as his fingers defaulted back to his clit. 

Koge couldn’t get off on just her fingers. At this point in her life, having been with him for so long and growing used to either him getting her off or using toys, there wasn’t ever anything she could do using her own hands or fingers to truly get her off. Sure, it felt good, but very rarely and only in times of true desperation could she get herself to cum. And, if it was her body still getting turned on and not necessarily just his own horny thoughts, Koge knew that her stubborn body would want either thick fingers or a fat cock inside her, and nothing else would suffice. 

Knowing this fact could be her chance, Koge shifted herself in just a bit closer, still softly rubbing and teasing her cock through the fabric of her sweats. “What’s wrong, Katsuki? Did you forget a little something about my body? You seem a little surprised.” 

“I said fuck off! I can’t do it with you staring at me like that!” Bakugou’s hazy glare was only set on her face for a moment before it fell to her hips, the already fierce blush growing darker. He wiggled, as if his body had begun to ache for the source of pleasure it craved before he had to forcibly tear his eyes away. “I don’t need your help!” 

“You do, though, Katsuki.” Moving to sit right up beside him on her knees, Koge placed one hand on his bare thigh, feeling the corners of her lips twitch in excitement as his legs spread further open instinctively. “You’ll never be able to get off on just those little fingers. My body needs more… Why don’t you let me show you?” Moving slowly, Koge’s hand began to travel up towards Bakugou's hips, the urges within her only growing stronger by the feeling of such soft skin against rough and calloused palms. So focused on trying to persuade him, she barely noticed her other hand shifting her sweatpants out of the way, setting her cock free. 

Bakugou's eyes were immediately on her hips again, that familiar hint of contemplation in his gaze. “Utsuro, what makes you think I need your help?”

“I know you do. Just look,” It took very little pressure for Koge to slip her hand into Bakugou's underwear, finding no resistance as she replaced his fingers along his soaked cunt. With the first rough roll of her large fingers against his clit, Bakugou’s body immediately reacted just as she expected, giving a light jerk inwards with a moan slipping unrestrained from his lips. Smirk crossing her own, Koge used her memory of what he always did to her, rolling the puffy and sensitive button with hard pressure. “See the difference? See how good it feels…”

Bakugou’s chest began to heave with his breathing, eyes locked on the form of Koge’s hand moving beneath the little lace underwear. “I-it doesn’t feel any different- a-ah, fuck, I said I don’t need you!” One of Bakugou’s legs lifted to unconsciously give Koge more room, his foot slamming firmly onto the table. Taking the hint, Koge slipped her middle and third finger into him, her entire body flushing with a fierce and burning heat at the moan that left his lips. Just watching him come undone so quickly with just the deep and rhythmic movements of her fingers made her want to immediately sink her cock into whatever orifice he’d allow, but she kept control of herself. 

“You do need me, Katsuki. Look at you… Just admit that it’s amazing. That it’s exactly what my body wants. I know what my body wants.” 

Giving a click of his tongue in between his deep breaths and moans, Bakugou took hold of Koge’s cock with the hand he had been using to pleasure himself, using the slick that still coated his fingers and the dripping precum from her tip to start stroking. “I know, too! You couldn’t handle my body on your own, either!” 

Unable to resist the shuddering of her body and the deep groan that left her lips, Koge leaned forward a bit over Bakugou’s body, using her free arm against the back of the couch to hold herself steady. With every tight squeeze against her tip, Koge felt her body become more overwhelmed with the pleasure and desires for more, her hips lightly bucking up into his touch. Although it felt amazing, her eyes wandering his body and head filled with the sounds of his moans only pushed her buttons further. She needed more. This wasn’t going to be enough. 

Though, before Koge could even make another move, Bakugou cursed out loudly, putting both hands onto her chest and pushing her back roughly to force her to down onto her back. “Fuck this! Lay your stupid ass down! I’m going to take care of this, now!” 

“W-what? Wait, Katsuki-!” 

Not even giving Koge a moment to fix her position, Bakugou climbed up on top of her all while stripping off his underwear, straddling her hips. “No more waiting! I swore I wasn’t going to do this shit, but your fucking body is so slutty it can’t survive not having my cock inside it. You damn fucking whore.” Bakugou took hold of Koge’s face roughly, his drunken and horny rage making him very uncoordinated and rough, though Koge wasn’t going to complain, as the feeling of his nails in her skin made her cock ache and twitch impatiently. “You’re a whore, aren’t you? You’re my little cock hungry slut.” 

“Y-yes, Katsuki-” Koge bit down onto her bottom lip as Bakugou sat firmly down onto her hips, her cock squished between her abdomen and Bakugou’s dripping cunt. With a slow rolling of his hips, Bakugou began to grind his clit along her, from the base to the tip. “Fuck-!” 

“What’s that?” A wicked smirk crossed Bakugou’s lips, putting more pressure with each grind of his hips. “What’s wrong, Utsuro?” 

“I-” A hiss left her lips as Bakugou released her face, both of his hands resting against her stomach with nails digging into her skin. In response, Koge gripped onto his hips tightly, wishing so desperately to just shove herself inside him. “Stop teasing!” 

“You say that, but my body fucking loves it, right? Isn’t that what you’ve been going on about? And yours… fuck!” Losing his composure, Bakugou made rough and small movements right against the tip of Koge’s cock, using the ridges along the underside to pleasure himself. “Yours is on fire! This damn… fucking slutty body of yours… Only one way to deal with it-!” 

Finally lifting his hips, Bakugou wasted no time in beginning to lower himself down onto Koge’s cock, but he barely got past the tip before he had to pause. Koge might have had a bit to do with that, as the initial squeezing against her tip and the heat felt as if she might lose control of herself that instant. So, she kept a tight grip on his hips, using her strength to keep him from moving another inch as she let herself grow used to the unfamiliar pleasures. 

“Bitching out already, Utsuro?” 

Breathing heavily, Koge glared up at Bakugou, who’s smug smirk made her immediately quite flustered. “Shut up, Katsuki. You don’t even know what’s about to come.” 

“Don’t be so fucking cocky-” 

Koge didn’t allow him to even catch a breath before she pulled his hips down with a thrust of her own hips upward, bringing his hips down flush against hers to bury her cock completely inside him. All the air knocked out of his lungs, Bakugou barely even got a squeak out, nearly collapsing forward onto Koge’s chest. Eyes wide and mouth agape with shock, Bakugou’s began to tremble, struggling to take in a breath or get out a single word. Koge, however, couldn’t stand waiting a single second longer, the feeling of being so deep inside him already driving her crazy. “A-ah, Katsuki! It’s so hot!” 

“D-don’t, don’t-!” 

Bakugou’s voice was a choked whisper as Koge began to thrust upwards into him, overpowering him to keep control so he couldn’t move away. Although he was being defiant, Bakugou couldn’t stop the moans that spilled from his lips, completely overwhelmed with the pleasure. Koge was the same, the feeling of being squeezed like this with each thrust so blissful that she already felt the urge to cum. But, within a few moments, Bakugou gathered himself, giving a frustrated yell as one of his hands came to rest roughly and firmly on Koge’s face, two of his fingers plunging into her mouth to get her attention. 

“I said don’t!” With the momentary confusion, Bakugou began to take over the pace, bouncing his body. “I said I was going to take care of this! Don’t fuck me unless I say so!” 

“W-what are you saying?” Koge’s ability to speak was inhibited by his fingers, but she was too overcome with wave after wave of pleasure to care. “I am fucking you! Ack, don’t-!” Koge pulled his hand away from her mouth. “Your body has a weak gag reflex! You can’t stick your fingers down my throat right now, I’ll puke!” 

“No shit! I don’t suck cock like you do every day! Fuck, it’s already in there so fucking deep, how can your body want more?!” 

“A-ah, mm- wait! Wait, Katsuki!” Koge felt completely helpless as Bakugou rode her with vigor, bouncing his body rougher and more eager than Koge could ever remember doing herself. He was completely smitten, the pleasure only intoxicating him further until he wasn’t holding himself back. “I-I’m not sure I can hold out! How do you hold it in?!” 

“Shut the fuck up and clench your balls, Utsuro!” 

“That isn’t how it works!” 

“I don’t fucking know, I can’t think! Distract yourself-!” A squeak left his lips as Koge snatched onto the tank he still wore, yanking him down and pulling him into a kiss to do just that. Bakugou was quick to reciprocate, only having to pause his hips for a moment before he began to pick back up the pace, moaning and gasping into the kiss as both of his hands buried into Koge’s hair. His nails in her scalp and how eager he was didn’t help Koge’s condition at all, and just hearing the way his voice hitched in that familiar sign of getting close to his peak made her body tense in frustration. 

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Koge once again began thrusting upwards into him, matching his pace and rhythm. Bakugou’s voice immediately spiked, his head resting into Koge’s shoulder, though he didn’t do anything to stop her. “Utsuro! I said… I-... I said don’t!” 

“Shut up, Katsuki! Just let me do it! It’s obvious you’re enjoying getting fucked by your own cock, so take it!” 

“I’m not! I’m not- it’s your fucking slutty body! It has nothing to do with me! Oh shit, that spot there! There- fuck!” 

“A-ah, Katsuki, don’t squeeze, I can’t-!” 

From that moment on, there was nothing Koge could do to restrain herself. His moans, the slapping of skin and the feeling of his walls constricting around her like a vice pushed her over the edge, a burst of pleasure rocketing from the pressure within her hips. It was unlike anything she was used to feeling, the singular powerful pop of pleasure bringing her body nearly to a complete halt, gasping and groaning into Bakugou’s hair as her hips bucked up hard and deep into him. 

With the last twinge of pleasure, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of her body, falling limp as she struggled to catch her breath. “Damn… That’s… Nothing like normal. Not as strong as what I’m used to either but- OUCH!” Koge winced as there was a sudden harsh yank to her hair, peering up at Bakugou through one clenched eye as he sat up, though the dark look on his face immediately made Koge’s stomach churn nervously. “Oh no-” 

“I didn’t cum yet, Utsuro.” Bakugou’s glare was dark, as if he were about to go on a murderous rampage. “You fucking scum.” 

“K-Katsuki, wait, I couldn’t help it!” Koge nervously grabbed onto Bakugou’s sides, unsure of what was about to happen. Of course, she knew exactly how he was feeling, and how badly she probably just edged him would have been unbearable. “I’m sorry! Let me, uh… Just let me get hard again, I can finish you off!” Suddenly, there was a hitch of Bakugou’s breath, his eyes growing teary and face flushing from ear to ear. Now, Bakugou was truly going through the torment of edging and dissatisfaction that Koge had to suffer through on a daily basis because of him and his teasing, and even if he had a strong consciousness, the intoxication and feeling of his new body wasn’t going to let him have all the control. 

“Bullshit! You bitch! I was so close!” 

“Oh what, does it hurt? See what I suffer through, Katsuki?! Maybe now you’ll never edge me again!” 

“Oh, oh no.” Bakugou’s frustration morphed into true malicious intent, his mouth quivering as a smirk stretched across his lips. “You torture me? I’m about to make sure you go through hell until I’m satisfied.” 

“What? You can’t torture your own body, Katsuki-- Ah! Wait, no, don’t sit on my face, I- mmph!” 

“I’m not in my body right now, Utsuro. I’ll do whatever I want to you until you’re fucking begging for me to stop. Now drink up, I’m sure you’re thirsty after that huge fucking load. And look, you are already hard again. No matter what body you’re in, you’re nothing but a slut… and I’m going to treat you like one.”  

Tag: @gallickingun​

#bnhabookclub #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugou x oc #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha fanfiction #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha oc #oc #original character #bakugou x koge #koge #bingo #cutesuki-oc #cutesuki-lemons

[akarinittalovers]

•Nanaba Part I: Confessions

It was quite a boring day in the Survey Corps, there is nothing to do. No, saying that there is nothing to do is not correct, there are still many tasks to finish especially this early in the day. This was just all you do after being promoted as a squad commander. There was just a lot and a lot of paperwork especially in between expeditions like right now.

You let out a sigh as you finish another stack of paper for today. But still, your work here is far from over. You peek at other stacks of paper on your desk waiting to be done. You will be here for a while.

You place your head on the desk taking a short break. Honestly, you wanted to cry and just run away from all this, you would prefer to fight a titan than doing this. Suddenly you straighten up your back and slap both of your cheeks.

'No, we are fighting Titan so that we could live peacefully like this.' you thought to yourself.

With Your spirit renewed and you prepare to fulfill your duty to completion. But as you grabbed on the next paper to fill there are knocking on the door of your office. You are honestly a little pissed off by it but then again it might be something important or at least something that elevated your boredom and hopefully not an additional task.

You calmed and tidy yourself up before permitting whoever was outside of the door by saying "please come in."

After you say that the handle on the door moved downward and it's slowly open revealing a figure of the person who knocked. A short hair blonde woman, not very tall and she has a somewhat petite body.

"Excuse me." That person said before entering and closing the door behind her back.

You silently thank the heavens. The person who just enters your office is someone you actually want to see.

"Oh, Turn out its Nanaba." You said

"Is it a bad time, sir?."

You shook your head gently before the answer her. "Not really, I just finished part of my work though I still got some left."

"I see, hope I am not bothering you too much, sir." She said as she walks towards your desk. You are almost mesmerized by how gracefully she walked - Well, we are being honest here she just walked like a normal person but for you, she was as graceful as a butterfly. -

"Not at all, I'm glad you can come here, and could you stop calling me sir, please. Call me by my name."

"Eh?... Why not it sounds nice on you." She said as she moved aside your stack of paper and then she sits on your desk. "You deserve it, after all, Squad leader." She said teasingly.

You sighed tiredly as she let out a small laugh.

"I think you're the one who deserves to be promoted. Your skills are far better than mine after all." You said to her.

"Well, that is true. I am skilled and talented moreover I am cooler than you." She said in a teasing manner. But then her tone changes into something more serious. "Still, I think you will be a better leader than me. You are smart, courageous, and reliable. You've saved my life many times before, thank you for that." Nanaba said to you with a sweet and gentle smile.

As both of your eyes meet each other gaze your heart skipped a beat and you couldn't help but get flustered to her. It seems that Nanaba also experienced the same thing as you are since you could see a blush forming on her cheeks. To everyone surprised she was the first to avert her gaze.

That doesn't mean that your situation was any better though. Your heartbeat is very chaotic and it perfectly reflects your emotions right now. You cough at your fist as a way to calming yourself down.

"Well, we are comrades after all, and besides you also save mine countless, times before," you said. "Then tell me why are you came here?."

"Why?... No reason I just wanted to see you that all. You have been working all day and don't even come out of this room at all."

"All day?." You asked her.

"Yeah, it's already 8 pm. You haven't come out all day."

"What!? 8 pm?." You shouted at her. You then practically jump out of your work chair and run towards the window and open its thicks blind. The scenery you see outside of your window is shocking. Beautiful sunlight that illuminates the world is long gone and the recruit who is training in the field is nowhere to be seen. "Just how long have I been working here anyway?."

Seeing your shocked face Nanaba let out a laughed.

"Poor thing too focused on doing the task to forget the time. You shouldn't do that you know. Please take care of your health." She said while gently bonked your head. "Just take a rest, I'll make you some tea."

"Yeah, you are right thank you."

You return to your seat and resting your back on it. Your eyes followed Nanaba, seeing her made a hot tea for you. Just by seeing her like this was honestly enough to restore your energy.

Not long after that, she finished

making you tea and gave it to you.

"Here it is." She gave the teacup to you.

"Thanks." You take a teacup from her hand.

You relaxed your whole body as you began to take a sip from the teacup. The fragrant taste of the expensive tea began to fill your mouth. It was quite expensive tea that only rich merchants could buy. You only got your hand on this because you got a particularly generous discount and you got some money saved. Honestly, You rather saved this tea for special occasions but again since Nanaba was the one who made the tea its should be count as a special occasion right?.

You close your eyes trying to savor as much tea flavor as possible. Your mouth then let out an "Ahhh," as the tea wash down your throat filling it with a warm delight. Still, despite you being drowned out by pleasure, you couldn't help but notice a pair of eyes surveying your every movement.

You decide to see what's up with that and you saw it. Nanaba sitting at your desk, one of her hands holding her head in her hand. Her face is filled with a gentle yet beaming smile and Her gaze is fixated on you.

"Wha-." Before you could finish your word Nanaba hands already reached both sides of your cheeks, holding them quite tightly.

"You know, I lied to you," Nanaba said.

You who were still left speechless by her previous action started to wonder what does she meant by 'lied to you'. Just as your mind wonders about what going on, Nanaba pulls your face closer to her and places her lips into yours.

At that moment your wondering mind went blank and your body froze unable to move. All of your brainpower to focus on the tender feeling of her lips on yours. The sweet and gentle sensation flooded your senses.

The kiss lasted for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Though you would love it to last forever there are important that needed to be addressed first.

After Nanaba pulled away from your face and get her hands off your face, you placed your hands on her shoulders. The expression on your face was hideous, it was a combination of scared, disbelief, and panic. But as hideous as it was your expression right now perfectly mirrors your heart.

"Wh- Wh- What are you doing Nanaba?."

"I got tired," Nanaba said.

"Tired?." You tilt your head slightly in confusion.

"Well, the thing is I knew that you had a crush on me, and I also kind of liked you. So I decided to if you confessed to me I would accept it. But I am stupid thinking that way. We are members of the survey corps we don't know when we are gonna die. I couldn't just sit around waiting for you to come to me."

Nanaba breaks eye contact with you. You could notice a blush start to forming on her cheeks. The usual confident Nanaba now is nowhere to be seen and what replaces her was the vulnerable Nanaba. Honestly, you feel honored to have her showing that side of herself to you.

After taking a few deep breaths she looks you deep in your eyes, her face filled with conviction that she gonna do it right here, right now but still, it was quite evident that holding back her blush a lot.

"So that why I am betting everything on this," she said. while she was not screaming her tone was definitely louder than she usually was.  "I will live for you so please live on for me. I love you Y/N."

After hearing that you pulled Nanaba closer to you into a tight embrace. In response to your hug, Nanaba also wrapped her hand around your body and rested her head on your shoulder. Surprisingly but expectedly your shoulder where she places her head feels damp. She just let out all of the feelings to you and knowing her personality it was possibly her first time doing it, so it makes sense if she was overwhelmed by it.

"As expected your body is warm." She whispered to you. You also could feel her hands move around your back and petting your head.

"How did you know that I like you?." You asked her.

"I don't know, I lied. I just hope that you do like me. I- I am sorry if I am assuming your feelings, I am okay if- if you don't like me back but just don't hate me." She began to hold you even more tightly while holding back her tear.

You went and gently stroke her short blonde hair as a way to comfort her. "I never gonna hate you Nanaba. You were right I have had a crush on you ever since the first time we meet I want nothing more but to spend the rest of my life with you, to protect you. That is why I am joining the Survey Corps in the first place to be with you."

"So that why you join the Survey Corps, it is because of me." Nanaba looks you in the eyes once more. "Y/N, You dummy I don't need your protection." She bonked your head again "Well since you joined the Survey Corps because of me it's become my responsibility to protect you. Nanaba said teasingly and with a big smile.

"I look forward to being protected by you, Nanaba. I knew you are strong but still, I want to protect you as well."

"Let's promise we look for each other back. Like I said we live for each other." She said smiling.

"That a promise."

Both of you giggle at each other and then that giggle grew into a laugh but not long after that both of you went silent with eyes inspecting each other bodies. She is just perfect in your eyes from her short blonde hair, her majestic blue eyes, and her whole body and You are also as equally perfect in her eyes.

Both of your heads get closer once more. Nanaba could smell the sweet fragrant of the tea you had been drinking as she feels your breath and you also sense a fruity sense from her as her shadow began to cover your eyes. A what felt like an eternity later both of your mouths finally meet again as you went on a passionate kiss with your lover.

Your knees got weaker as you experience something that you always dream of but never actually believe you could do it. You hold on to her for balance while keeping both of your eyes closed so you could focus on one thing, your mouth.

Both of you pulled away from each other faces but both of your arms still squeezing one another bodies tightly. Both of you giggle at each other as your forehead touch against her's. The warm feeling of her breath and her very existence there bring you a sense of euphoria.

"Your mouth still has a sweet tea taste on it," Nanaba said as she released her hold over you and turn away walking towards the exit.

Feeling quite disappointed and confused you grabbed her hand holding her in place before asking. "Nanaba where are you going?."

She then turns her head towards you and answered. "Well, I would love to stay and spend a night here but we can't do it right now."

"Why is that." You asked her.

"Take a guess."

You do as she said and after a short deliberation later you came to a conclusion. Knowing her you are about 90% sure you came to the right conclusion.

"You came here to inform me that Erwin has summoned me to join the meeting at his office along with every high-ranking officer of the Survey Corps but instead of doing that you got carried away teasing me and somehow ended up confessing your love to me. Is that correct, Nanaba-san?." You said with a tired expression on your face.

"Oh wow, your guess is spot on. That amazing Y/N, I always knew you are smart but damn."

You let go of Nanaba hand and walked to your desk and fondle around the papers on it scanning it before choosing to be placed on the paper folder that you'll bring to Erwin.

"Guessing you was easy enough. Well, you go there first, I'll meet you there. I need to prepare the paperwork for the meeting first."

"I see, then see you there."

Nanaba waves her hand at you first before she began to walk away towards the door of your office. She then opens the door and steps outside of it but before she closed the door, she called out your name.

"Y/N..." You look at her. Her head peeks inside a half-closed door to your office, her hand is still on the handle. "I'll look forward to our next hand-to-hand combat training session." She said before closing the door with a wink.

Also available on Wattpad

#Nanaba #nanaba x reader #Nanaba x Reader #Attack on Titan #aot #aot x y/n #fanfiction #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #snk x you #snk x y/n

[kalimagik]

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Hufflepuff!Tom Holland x reader

Hogwarts!au

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: Happy Wednesday, lovelies! This fic begins my “100 Followers Fic Weekend Celebration”! One fic everyday until Sunday! (I hope you guys will hang out during it!) This fic came from this request as my inspiration! I hope you like it @abrielleholland​! The rest of you, if you enjoy reading, please like, reblog, comment, or even give me a follower to stay with the long weekend fun! Happy reading <3<3<3

*Not my GIF - credit to owner 

Hogwarts was abuzz. The three other schools for the TriWizard Tournament had arrived the previous night and now the castle was packed. Students were talking about who from each of the schools would enter their names and who were the top contenders for Champion.

Tom knew that the Weasley Twins, who were in his year, were concocting some plan to get their own names in the ring. Tom was half tempted to enter himself. 1,000 galleons could do a lot for a guy!

“Holland! You coming?” Cedric asked from the entryway of the Hufflepuff Common Room. The boys were heading to the Great Hall. Since Dumbledore had set up the Goblet of Fire, most of the students had been spending a lot of time in there. Tom just couldn’t wait to check out the potential competition. Most of the Hogwarts students seemed to think that Viktor Krum would wind up as Durmstrang’s champion. The dude was terrifying, wicked good at quidditch, but terrifying.

“Oh yeah, I’m coming. Are you bringing a quill or paper or anything?” Tom asked nervously…maybe he wouldn’t put his name in.

“Write your name on a piece of paper and let’s go,” Cedric chuckled as Tom scribbled his name down and followed the popular Hufflepuff boy out of the Common Room.

The Great Hall was overflowing with people. Students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and even Ilvermorny. The American school wasn’t initially supposed to compete in the tournament, but apparently some student petitioned the three European schools. Rumors were flying about who it was and how that person did it. Only about 15 of them came, but they all looked determined. Every single member of their delegation had put their names in the previous night, the moment after Dumbledore had set up the cup.

Heads turned to watch the group of Hufflepuff boys as they entered and approached the Goblet of Fire.

“Go on Ced! Put your name in,” Tom dared as he slapped his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Cedric waved the rest of the boys off before reaching up to put the piece of paper in. Tom followed suit and then sat on the benches surrounding the Goblet.

Krum followed shortly with his large entourage. Karkaroff was beaming as his star pupil’s name was accepted. Tom’s eyes quickly scanned the room to look at the conglomeration of students that littered the Great Hall. George and Fred Weasley had just burst into the large room when Tom’s eyes landed on a girl with the Ilvermorny group.

The bantering and cheering of the Weasley twins seemed to fade into the background. This girl’s E/C eyes had the ability to just bore into Tom’s soul.

“Tom? Where are you going?” Cedric’s voice echoed in his ear.

“I- I’ll be back in a minute…” he waved it off.

“I think he’s been entranced by the Beauxbatons girls,” one of their other friends joked, but Tom didn’t even hear him. The boy even walked right over the now old Weasley twins wrestling on the floor.

The Ilvermorny kids were all laughing at the antics of the twins. There was no denying that Fred and George would make their trip to the United Kingdom very memorable. Tom felt his stomach flip over in his stomach as he approached the group. Luckily, his Hufflepuff traits were really standing out. He was just trying to be friendly and welcoming, at least that’s what he was telling himself.

“Well, hey there,” the girl smirked the moment Tom walked up to her group. “I’m Y/N. Who are you?”

Tom felt a blush creep to the apples of his cheeks. He was in trouble and he knew it.

“Cat got your tongue?” she pressured again. Her American accent stood out like something he had never heard before. Her voice was soft, but rolled off her lips like honey. The girls around her started to giggle when Tom still hadn’t spoken.

“Y/N! Over here!” another Ilvermorny girl called from the entrance of the Great Hall.

“I guess I have to leave, but maybe I’ll see you tomorrow and get to know your name.” With a wink of her E/C eyes, she brushed past him. Tom stood there, still speechless. What had gotten into him? He was usually always able to talk to everyone! He was the one who gave Cedric tips when he got nervous!!

Speaking of Cedric, he had seen the whole thing.

“That did not go nearly as well as you planned it, huh?” Cedric asked as he patted Tom on the shoulder. “For a second there, you looked more embarrassed than the Weasley twins, who you seamlessly ignored.” Cedric couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the predicament. Tom was usually pretty smooth with the ladies at Hogwarts. “If it helps man, she isn’t even veela…so that was just all you blubbering.”

Tom groaned as he flopped onto the bench where the beautiful girl once stood. “That doesn’t help, Cedric,” Tom emphasized his name. “That means that I just completely lost it.”

“You always have tomorrow. Dumbledore is picking the champions, remember?” Cedric pointed out.

“Right, tomorrow.” Tom had some more motivation. He was determined and antsy. Cedric even caught him talking to the mirror. “You would think that you would be more nervous about being picked as Hogwarts’ champion,” he had even commented.

Halloween was bursting with energy. The students could not stop talking about the champion selection at the feast later that evening. Tom on the other hand couldn’t wait for his next interaction with Y/N. He was going to be ready this time.

His leg bounced furiously as his head darted from the door of the Great Hall and back to his plate. The feast hadn’t started, but it was suddenly very interesting.

“Hey, Holland,” Cedric nudged Tom with a whisper. “Look.”

Tom’s breath caught in his throat as he saw Y/N walking towards the Hufflepuff table. “Ced! Ced! Laugh like I said something funny,” Tom pleaded.

“No way. I am not doing that. Just talk to her…” Cedric urged.

Before Tom could retort, Y/N placed a hand on the table and leaned, very casually and easily, across from Tom.

“You got a name yet?” she joked. Tom sat there staring. No girl had ever had this much gusto when talking to Tom. He was the one that left them speechless.

Cedric did what any best friend would do and elbowed Tom’s arm.

“Uhh, yeah, yeah. I’m Tom,” he managed.

“Well, Tom. Is anyone sitting here? My friends and I were told to sit anywhere and it seems that Durmstrang and Beauxbatons have taken over that table-“ Y/N pointed to where the Slytherins sat. “and that table.” She now pointed to the Ravenclaws. “But, this one seems pretty good to me.”

“N-nope. No one else is sitting here. It’s just Cedric and I and whoever comes, but yeah, go ahead and sit, please.” Great, now Tom couldn’t stop talking. It seemed to be okay though, Y/N was laughing as she motioned for her friends to join her.

“So you all have houses here too right? Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff?” Y/N asked once Dumbledore had given his speech and made all the food for the feast appear.

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Cedric responded. Luckily, conversation began to flow smoothly and Tom wasn’t tripping over his words nearly as much, key word being nearly.

“I did my studying before coming here. Of course I had to do my research to even get Ilvermorny the chance to compete.” She laughed.

“You’re the one who did that?” Tom blurted out. “I heard there were rumors that a student was the one who petitioned for you all to come.”

“Oh yeah!” Y/N’s friend, Michell, as Tom had learned, started. “Y/N was determined to get us into this competition. Only the best of the best at Ilvermorny were allowed to come. We practiced potential scenarios for the tournament throughout September and most of this month!” Michelle bragged.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed. A rose color invaded her cheeks. Tom inhaled deeply as he took in her beautiful smile and the sound of her laugh. Feeling the knowing glance of Cedric, Tom shook himself out of it.

“I will not!” Michelle continued. “She’s ambitious and always looking for adventure.”

“Okay, Michelle. You essentially just described my house at school!”

“You all have houses too?” Tom asked intrigued.

“Oh yeah. Four like Hogwarts, but all named after magical creatures. Wampus, Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, and the Horned Serpents. People even say that the four y’all have align with our four.”

“And what are your houses then?” Cedric asked.

“Michelle and I are both in Thunderbird, but we have people here from all the houses.” Y/N explained. “Her house must align with Ravenclaw. She knows so much,” Tom thought to himself.

“If they all align, which Hogwarts house is most similar to yours?” Cedric continued as if he was reading Tom’s mind.

“There is some debate since they don’t match up perfectly, but ours is supposedly Slytherin. We’re ambitious like they are and the thunderbird supposedly favors the adventurer, so that’s us,” Y/N grinned.

Tom wanted to keep asking about school in the United States, but he was interrupted by Dumbledore rising from his seat.

“Attention students! We will now be selecting the champions from each of the four schools!”

Walking towards the Goblet, Dumbledore waved his arms to cause fire to raise from it. A slip of paper burst through the flames. Although it was singed at the edges, Dumbledore caught it. Tom watched enthusiastically as Dumbledore called both Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour.

It wasn’t until Hogwarts’ champion was called that Tom truly lost it.

“WOOHOO!!! Let’s go, CEDRIC!” he whooped and hollered. He couldn’t stop himself from patting Cedric on the back as the boy stood to join the other champions in the room off of the Great Hall.

“Now, for Ilvermorny, our sister school that we are happy to have with us!” Dumbledore announced. “Ilvermorny’s champion is MICHELLE JONES!”

Tom heard the ecstatic shriek come from Y/N’s mouth as her best friend stood up to join Cedric. When all the cheering from the Hufflepuff table finally settled down however, the Goblet lit up again. It announced that a fifth champion was to compete – Harry Potter. Tom felt a surge of anger flow through him. He couldn’t help this. The TriWizard Tournament was supposed to be Cedric Diggory’s time to shine as the only Hogwarts champion.

Once he finally calmed down and Harry was out of sight, the rest of the students began to rise from their seats and return to their dorms. Before Tom could escape from his thoughts, Y/N interrupted them.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other with our best friends as champions, huh?”

“I guess so. Prepare for a little smack talk from our side of the table.”

“You really found the counter curse to langlock then, huh? Don’t you worry. I sure like a challenge.” Once again, Y/N winked before leaving Tom without a chance to respond.

Oh, this one was definitely going to be trouble for Tom, but he had the rest of the year to figure her out. She may be ready for a challenge, but so was Tom.

#tom holland x reader #hogwarts!au #hufflepuff!tom holland x reader #kalimagik #new fic #magiksficweekendcelebration #harry potter x reader #tom holland fan fic #hogwarts!au tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #happy reading #tom holland x ilvermorny!reader #ilvermorny #hogwarts x ilvermorny #harry potter and the goblet of fire #HP and the GoF

[ladymazzy]

One year on: the BLM event that divided a Gloucestershire town

I'm beyond furious and exasperated with the perpetuation of the lie that racism is a thing of the past. This woman is only 25, and her recounting her experiences of going to school as a Black girl in the West Country only around a decade ago speaks volumes

Some highlights from the article. (CW for racism and White Fragility™️):

Growing up, Khady Gueye was one of just a handful of black pupils at her school in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire. By the time she was a teenager, she was desperate to fit in and conform. And so when her nickname became “Nigs” – short for the N-word – Gueye didn’t challenge it.

Here, in the rural west of England, where she had been fed racist stereotypes of black people her whole life, she didn’t want to be labelled “the angry black girl” or the self-pitying minority who “couldn’t take a joke” or what was considered a “bit of light banter”.

And so it was, that on the last day of school where it is tradition for year 11s to scrawl goodbye messages on one another’s school shirts, Gueye took home a shirt covered with the N-word in giant block capital letters across the front. “Gonna Miss You Nigs” was written on the back next to jokes about golliwogs and messages of good luck.

Gueye was supposed to consider it an affectionate send-off; it was written by her own friends. It was 2012, the year Britain proudly celebrated its optimistic and diverse Olympic Games opening ceremony, or as Conservative MP Aidan Burley would call it, “multicultural crap”.

“I became complicit in allowing it to continue, by being ‘Ha ha! Good joke guys,’” says Gueye, flatly. “But when you grow up in an area that is so predominantly white and are already made to feel different, you just do your best to fit in. The ideal is don’t call out racism. Let it slide. You become so accustomed to it, it becomes your norm.”

Now 25 and on the verge of finishing her English degree at Manchester University, Gueye has become a local community organiser and is more visible than ever in the town where she was born and grew up.

“I don’t want my daughter to grow up with the same experience I did,” she says emphatically, over lunch at her local pub. “This is my home and it’s a lovely area to bring up a family in. I want my daughter to have a life where she is celebrated for who she is, not feel attacked or unwelcome because of her skin colour.”

But Gueye’s attempts to hold a small “celebration of BAME (black, Asian and minority ethnic) culture” sparked a furious backlash that, one year on, still reverberates throughout the small Gloucestershire town of Lydney.

...an online petition was set up to stop the event going ahead on the grounds that it was unsafe and high risk in the middle of a pandemic. Organiser Natasha Saunders wrote: “A mass gathering is a slap in the face to people who have been tirelessly shielding themselves, the elderly and loved ones from this virus.”

Anger, tension and outright abuse boiled over online as a counter-petition to support the event was organised. It got twice the number of signatures, leading Saunders to say that hers was more valid by claiming “90% of [signatories] are from Lydney, can you say yours was?” Later, she would make Eldridge-Tull gasp by posting: “He couldn’t breathe, now we can’t speak”, in a reference to Floyd’s murder by a police officer.

“We’re a happy community, we don’t really have an issue with racism,” said one middle-aged man, who didn’t want his name published, as he nursed a pint outside a local pub. “Outsiders bring their problems, but there’s not a lot of them here,” he said, echoing in politer terms a point that was made repeatedly to the Observer last week.

Last year, Gueye and Eldridge-Tull spent hours patiently replying to comments online in an attempt to explain the event and reassure people about it, but still received threats. Hundreds of screenshots of the abuse have been shared with the Observer. A typical missive read: “Fuck off. Not everyone agrees with black lives. I can’t say what I want on here coz I’ll be reported for racism. But I would bring back black slavery.” Gueye was repeatedly told to go back to where she came from if she didn’t like it and that she would be responsible for bringing harm to Lydney residents.

The pair’s standard response to those with genuine concerns about mass gatherings in a health pandemic, during a lockdown, was to keep explaining that social distancing was being strictly adhered to – two-metre grids were hand-chalked by Gueye and Eldridge-Tull on the site – and that PPE was being provided to anyone who didn’t have any.

“I think it speaks volumes that BAME people are still willing to protest for their human rights even though they are disproportionately affected by the pandemic,” wrote Gueye. “Maybe this should highlight the severity of the inequality in our society”.

....

When asked if she [deputy mayor, Tess Tremlett] accepted there were a lot of racist aspects to the abuse the organisers had endured, Tremlett replied: “I think some of the comments coming from supporters of the event were actually racist in themselves. They were called ‘white trash’, they were called Nazis and all sorts.”

But as anti-racist activists have spent the last year explaining, racism isn’t simply prejudice based on how one looks, but a system...[based] around a specific set of ideas – in this case, racist ones.

It is useful to explain why it is possible for white people to experience individual prejudice and unpleasant behaviour simply based on the colour of their skin but why it is inaccurate to call that “racism”. Being white does not mean one is more likely to be criminalised by the police, or that one is more likely to work in lower-paid frontline work or that one is more likely to be exposed to and die of Covid as a result.

In Gloucestershire, for instance, police statistics show that being black means you are nine times more likely to be stopped and searched by the police than you would if you were white.

The numbers are blankly disproportionate; there are just over 5,000 black people resident in the county compared with 570,000 white people. Last year, Gloucestershire council published evidence that jobseekers from minority ethnic groups had to send an average of 60% more applications to receive the same level of interest as white candidates. It’s not a conversation that Lydney, like much of the country, appears to have much interest in yet.

Tremlett, who has two decades of experience working in community engagement, explained that her sole reason for opposing the event was to be lawful. “Racism is the biggest insult anyone can say to me and I was called a racist by Khady’s team, whoever they are.” Was being called a racist worse than the actual racism that Gueye was continually facing in her everyday life? At this, Tremlett began to cry.

”You don’t understand,” she said, explaining that her daughter had been to three Indian weddings, that her builder was black, and that she had run an equalities panel for years as a councillor. Her experience – being called a racist, being abused online – when she felt she was doing the right thing, understandably made her defensive and upset. But it’s a difficult position for Gueye and Eldridge-Tull to deal with. Especially as she described Gueye as “aggressive and confrontational”.

Last year, Tremlett took the matter of the Forest of Dean’s BLM movement to local Conservative MP Mark Harper, who raised the matter in the House of Commons.

On 17 June, Harper, who may be best known as the immigration minister responsible for sending vans encouraging illegal immigrants to “go home” around parts of London, appeared to encourage an online pile-on against Eldridge-Tull, who had a tenth of his 30,000 followers, and demanded she apologise to the local community for tweeting: “The reaction to the BLM protest in Lydney has brought to light so much support, but so much hate. I love where I live, but I’m ashamed of my neighbours, and ashamed to be part of a community that has so widely endorsed and exacerbated racial hatred.”

....

When Gueye posted a picture of her school-leaver’s shirt on Instagram last year, one of her schoolfriends wrote that it was outrageous, and that she was impressed with everything Gueye was doing. “I was really happy she felt that but it was awkward,” says Gueye. “I messaged her back to say that she was one of the people who wrote those messages.” An embarrassed silence followed, but Gueye is hopeful and optimistic. “It’s still a positive sign.”

#guardian articles #uk racism #uk politics #blm protests #the uk is not innocent #never tory #there's a special place in my soul where i nuture my rage towards the kind of mfs who talk about the 'chip on your shoulder' #or that woebegotten idea that we 'need to take a joke' etc

[rainebowkitty]

Absolutist's Son, Queen's Devotee (Oofy Riddle Fic)

History is often warped over time as ideals change and people evolve. It’s no different for the Queen of Hearts and her legends of villainy. Only in the Twisted Wonderland her story paints her as the heroine, and poor, impressionable Riddle Rosehearts falls victim to the tyranny of not only his oppressive mother, but a boisterously absurd queen as well.

(Basically an angst fic I wrote on a whim about Riddle discovering that his mom and the Queen of Hearts are both villains terrible inspirations to look up to and how that realization literally shatters him. Oh, and for the sake of making sure he can’t deny it, the reader can make anyone relive memories and potentially alter them? by simply touching the person, so guess what kind of stuff he has to relive? I won’t spoil anything, but it’s oofy)

Warnings: Mentionings of beheading 

Now! Enjoy my first fic in weeks! 

It was nothing but a mirage. It had to be. 

Riddle was hyperventilating, his chest heaving up and down in a sporadic pattern as he absorbed the news. His first instinct was to deny it, was to force those thoughts of corruption out with every inch of his small being, with every fiber of magic his shaking form possessed. 

But one couldn’t run from a vision, right? Pulling away did nothing as the images you pressed into his mind like a hot coal into his fist still lingered. How did you-? How dare you taint the Queen of Hearts’ legacy with such fallacies. How dare you challenge his mother’s golden rules, the very rules he tried to enforce in order to benefit Heartslabyul as a whole.  

What a laughable lie all of your conjurings were. It was the cruelest slap to the face as he pushed you off of him, his shoulders tensing as he backed up, almost hugging himself. But you just reached out once more. And Riddle, his arms crossed over his chest defensively, couldn’t move fast enough to slap your hand away. 

“STOP IT!” He screamed. “UNHAND ME!” 

But he was quickly lost to his thoughts, a blank expression dawning on him as his eyes stared at nothing in particular, mercury orbs wide in disbelief.

A small, youthful redhead sat on a lonesome bench in a private garden. The boy was awaiting his new instructor’s arrival whenever a small rodent caught his eye. It was the most adorable creature the boy had ever seen. It was a pale cream color, small and petite with little spines poking from its back. Its curious, pink nose scrunched itself up multiple times as it sniffed the ground. It wasn’t long before it was sniffing the young boy’s gloved hand, ultimately deciding whether to name him friend or foe.

After the critter gave the boy a thorough security check, it allowed the redhead to gently pet its head with two fingers. Minutes ticked on until the spiny rodent allowed itself into the boy’s palms, pink nose now smelling a smiling face. Joyous, childlike laughter bubbled from the usually serious boy. It was so free, so pure in its form that you’d mistake him for any old kid with a thing for dressing up perhaps. 

But no, this boy was Riddle Rosehearts, son of a famous, stern healer, sharing a moment of joy with a wild woodland hedgehog. The two made quite the duo, both short in stature yet fierce in appearance with either spikes or a menacing glare to keep them safe. Anyone would’ve mistaken the two as friends; boy and boy’s best friend. However, Mrs. Rosehearts wasn’t anyone, and she wouldn’t allow her prestigious son to mingle with vermin such as this primitive hog. 

“Riddle, put that rodent down!” She commanded as she approached him. “I’m glad you wore your gloves today. There’s no telling how many diseases that thing has.”

The young boy hastily set the critter back on the grassy ground, the light-furred animal scampering under the bench and behind Riddle’s foot as if the boy was capable of protecting it from the intimidating woman. He couldn’t even bargain with his mother for the chance to have a real strawberry tart on his birthday, let alone secure the life of a defenseless hedgehog. 

“Sorry mother,” the boy would’ve muttered had the woman not pounded it into his head to speak clearly if he was going to speak at all. “Where’s my tutor?”

It was an honest question, one he thought was reasonable to ask whenever he was busier than any kid in town. It often felt impossible to remember everything and yet his mother just scoffed at his question as if he should already know the answer.

“We changed locations for your lesson,” she crossed her arms in annoyance. “I believe I told you during yesterday’s tea time, but I had a hunch you’d forget.”

Of course Riddle thought. How could he be so forgetful when she even reminded him? 

“Well hurry along now,” she tapped her foot impatiently as Riddle left with thin grace. He was so close to running, to sprinting just so he wouldn’t be any more tardy than he already was, but his mom would chastise him for that. He opted instead for speed walking, a heartfelt apology already forming in his mind to recite to the unlucky tutor. He knew people didn’t like their time being wasted and to do this in his first meeting with this particular teacher was unthinkable. He almost didn’t hear his mother’s last words as he sped off, but unfortunately he was conditioned to tune into her beguiling voice. 

“Please be more mindful next time, Riddle,” her tone was more bitter than she liked her tea and it didn’t take much imagination to guess the expression she wore either. “You’re on a strict schedule for a reason. Remember that.” 

Then she did something Riddle hadn’t heard her do in a long time. She chuckled.

“If you can remember, that is.”

Riddle picked up his pace without looking back.

“Riddle!” 

His mother’s distraught cries rang through the corridors as he dashed down them one by one. He checked each room, his hands clumsily fumbling with the knobs far too long for his liking. He was panting, short huffs of breath rippling through his small form as he tried not to trip over his heeled shoes with each panicked stride. 

“Riddle! Please!”

Another shriek. Riddle swore he heard a heavy sound trail his mother’s call, the thick, harsh reverb of it sending shudders through his already shaking body. When would he find her? When would he save her like the dutiful son he was meant to be? She always told him to be on schedule. Was this what she meant? Did her job as a healer leave her with such a tight grasp of time and its passing that she wanted to transmit that trait to her son too? “Son,” his mom wept, a crack in her usually smooth, authoritative tone creaking from her throat somewhere nearby. Riddle stopped dead in his tracks, the satisfying click of his heels dying with his momentum as he strained to hear anything over the throbbing of his own heart. It was silent again before he heard the precise cling of metal. That sound was followed by a burly chopping sound, the greedy blow of an axe striking its target as his mother’s sobs were abruptly cut with a gasp. 

Riddle felt the material of his gloves as his clammy hands clenched into fists. He felt an unquenchable fire bubble inside of him, but for the first time in years he couldn’t express it with his voice. Did all that time biting his tongue for his mother really leave him speechless during her death? Was yelling rendered pointless whenever he was so shaken to his core he was unsure his vocal cords would ever function the same way again?

His legs wobbled before his knees buckled, not allowing him to collapse or to take another step further. He was in the middle ground, so close to being able to escape while also being entirely numb. If he should run from whoever murdered his mother, he was left defenseless by shock, fear, guilt and shame. That desire to rescue her was now unachievable, so he surrendered, shutting his eyes tightly and awaiting the worst in his defeat.

Eternal seconds passed as tears trickled down his pale cheeks. Then he felt what he was waiting for; a clap on the shoulder. Wait, a clap on the shoulder? He almost jolted, but his frozen legs and body wouldn’t let him complete the action properly. Instead he almost fell over. He struggled to turn around and catch himself without face planting into the tiles, but he managed it, seeing his mom in perfect health, not a drop of blood in sight of her commanding presence. 

He had believed that presence was shattered. He had been so sure that the only parent he was ever devoted to had fallen and he had failed to intervene. He had failed to protect her, he had failed her as her son. And for a moment he was content dying that way by the same husky axe he was convinced someone stained on her flesh, her blood sputtering over an elite uniform well-known and revered across the world as the hope she inspired did nothing to save her in the end. He was ready to die a failing coward who’s magic was advanced for his age but deficient when it truly mattered. He was ready to be beheaded like the Queen of Hearts herself, like he was certain his mom had been. 

He was ready for that legacy, not one of crying before his mom as he stuttered out broken apology after broken apology for not reaching her in time, longing for her to tell him sorry for deceiving him in such a harsh manner. To tell him that for once she was the mistaken one. But that moment never came. Only lectures followed as he sobbed for his mommy, a mommy who would never comfort or console him. A mommy who only existed in the depths of his imagination, someone he had to force into his mind to even gain the willpower to sprint down these halls as he searched for that proud, loving figure.

But his actual mom was not that loving figure. There was a reason she chose to test him this way, and there was also a reason behind the oppressive axe as her method of execution. There was a reason he was seconds late to her calculated demise and a reason he thought he had to die the same horrible death. The same death as the Queen of Hearts.

Not her too.

There were flashes of a short figure sitting on a throne; glimpses of a wide, cruel smile as soldier after soldier was sent to the guillotine. Memory after memory cycled of someone royal and absolute going over daily tasks Riddle had grown so accustomed to. Directing people to paint the roses, hosting Unbirthday parties and kicking out the guests unfit to reside at such a refined event. Only this time unruly subjects were given a harsher punishment than simple banishment. They were disposed of to make sure the same mistakes weren’t repeated down the line. But no one was to mourn in the Queen’s court, only obey the current rule set which offered no times for heartbroken liegemen.

For countless years their activities were outlined for them, their stories pre-written until someone new and daring appeared in Wonderland. A fair lady named Alice, always depicted as malicious and mischievous for disregarding the absurd rules of such an exotic queen. However, now the Queen’s destiny was chosen, her agenda hand-picked by those she once ruled. She was the one being dragged to her untimely end by the very subjects who should obey her. Only it wasn’t the Queen’s turn to atone.

It was Riddle’s. 

“MAKE IT STOP!” Riddle sounded increasingly desperate as he pushed you away once more. He was about to see himself die like the Queen he so virtuously admired. He would pay for all of her unjust punishments. He was left with his neck stretched across the bloodied plank of the guillotine, a sharpened blade raised high above his head ready to fall and end it all with one swipe. Or maybe it wasn’t sharpened. Maybe they wanted to see him suffer that much. Maybe those peasants wanted to see the Queen suffer that much as she shouted her last command to an audience now deaf to her cries. 

Riddle was gasping at the intake of knowledge. The tales always ended with the loyal subjects corrupted by a filthy miscreant named Alice. Why did she resemble you so much in this vision? You weren’t anything like her. You had no intention to harm Riddle or to taint the Queen’s name. So why were your graceful eyes looking upon him with such stinging pity? Why was your touch causing grandeur delusions beyond his control to prance along his brain like bunnies on a time crunch? And why did it all feel so real when the storybooks never lied to him before? Was this dorm, the Queen he held on such a high pedestal, really horrible enough that all it took was someone sweet like you to talk to the lowly peasants and humble nobles to overthrow her? To overthrow Riddle himself?

He swallowed hard as his skull ached, his shoulder blades burning as he backed himself farther into the thick wall behind him. You made no move to touch him, having realized he had seen enough to understand your purpose and the lie he’s been living. Even so, there was so much frantic confusion in each detailed memory that he craved for you to explain. 

“Why?” He croaked as he stared you down fearfully. “Why did you show me that?”

“Because you were living a lie,” you spoke soothingly, but it did nothing to ease the panic in his eyes. “You deserve to know the truth about those you look up to.”

“Y-you don’t understand,” his lip trembled. “I’ve made myself to be like them in every way. When I was overwhelmed trying to abide by my mom’s rules, I’d turn to the Queen of Hearts because her rules were simple. I could follow them. I was always right by her standards. But if she was wrong all along and so was my mother then… what does that make me?” 

You were unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t your intention to leave the boy’s ideals crumbling with the realization that his top role models weren’t deserving of such an incredible, dedicated follower. You wanted him to see that he didn’t need them anymore, but whenever everything he built his seventeen years of life upon could be linked back to his mother or the Queen of Hearts, you realized telling him might have been more detrimental to his health than anything else. And your silence to his question only further engrained this inferiority into his collapsing psyche. 

“I’m just as horrible, aren’t I?” He whispered loathingly. 

Once again you were silent. 

“ANSWER ME!” He shouted, tiny fists bawled in an attempt to deny their shaking. If only he knew that his entire body was quivering as he seethed, every ounce of showcased hostility suddenly evaporating as he backed into the wall again, almost cowering away as he became aware of his sudden lash out.

The trauma you unveiled, the bittersweet fairytale you wanted to share the true nature of despite Riddle’s solid belief in the tale he’s always been told, it was incomprehensible for someone so faithful. But what were you to do when your idea of showing him the grim reality wasn’t associated with the potential need to reassure such a fragmented boy of his own personal good deeds? 

“If you have nothing else to say,” he straightened his posture and hardened his expression, though the anxiety in his frame was still evident. “I’d appreciate it if you left.” 

“But-”

“Don’t. Just return to your dorm,” he more so pleaded than commanded. “Please.”

So you left him to his feelings like he asked you to. It was a mercy you stayed quiet if you truly viewed him as suffocating as those he idolized for their severe disciplines and the success that seeped like bitter sap from following such intensive mandates. He didn’t want to know the truth behind your maze-like emotions for him just as he didn’t care to uncover the honest goals of those he strived to imitate when he thought he already knew and lived by them anyway. But if everything he was boiled down to the distorted perception of a nonsensical empress and an imperious, overbearing mother, then what original shards of himself could he rely upon for revision of his old ways? How could he become more than a Queen’s foolish prophet or the successor of an illustrious healer?

Most importantly, where did their wicked influences end and his own sense of identity begin? 

If you enjoyed this, maybe I can write more following this realization of Riddle’s? I’ve also been told I write Riddle and his mom’s relationship really well so be prepared for more oofs involving that whole mess I’ll gladly accept headcanons you’d like to see play out between them. I’m here for your angsty needs, by all means ask away

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #queen of hearts #heartslabyul #twst angst #twst fic #fanfic #riddle's mom #miss rosehearts #mrs roseheats #mama rosehearts #second person fic #golly it's been awhile since I posted anything original #but prepare for a double whammy cuz it's kalim's bday!

[lilwenney]

looking for affection in all the wrong places (ii)

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): alcohol, swearing, general banter, kissin’ boys, oh and stephen tries is drunk word count: 4k  a/n: part two of five, part one can be found here / things!! get!! interesting!! so we have finally began the rising action part of the story and things get a bit heated in more ways than one ;) this was one of my favorite parts of the entire story for the longest time. anyways i hope you guys enjoy x 

London, England December 2019

“I don’t know what I’m gonna wear!” 

“A dress! A skirt! Those denim shorts you bought last week-”

“It’s December, Cleo,” 

“And you were the one who bought them in December!” She called out with an eye roll. “And you know, a hoe never gets cold,” Cleo said, mimicking the video that plagued the girls’ group-chat every Friday night from October until May. 

(Y/N) groaned at the infamous quote and pulled out the first article of clothing she spotted on her wardrobe rack - a black bodysuit, bought months ago while lounging on her sofa with a hangover, but that didn’t stop her from planning her next party outfit. It came in handy during the times she had no idea what to wear, just like this night. 

Sliding on the black bodysuit and into a pair of denim jeans, she looked at herself in the mirror, spinning around, looking over her shoulder, posing, trying to catch herself from all angles to deem it worthy. 

“Have you seen my- oh, you look hot,” Cleo cut her own self off when she barged into (Y/N)’s room, welding a tube of mascara in one hand and an eyelash curler in the other. Panic written across her face as their eyes met. “Have you seen my mascara primer?” 

She nodded and pointed to the vanity across the room. “Had to borrow it. It should be with mine.” She said and Cleo slid over, searching through the makeup bags on the counter.

“Ah, found it,” Cleo said before looking back at her best friend who was posing in the mirror while tugging the shoulder-less top down to reveal more of her chest. She rolled her eyes. “If that top gets any lower for Adrian tonight-” 

“Oh shut it. I’m not wearing it for him.” 

“Who’s it for then?” 

“For myself, thank you,” she said, turning and grabbing a tube of lipstick off the small table, applying the finishing coat. “It’s my first night out since we split and I plan on looking good for no one else other than myself. So,” she paused, raising a brow, “hurry up so we can go.” 

“You can't rush mascara or perfection, love,” Cleo groaned before swiftly leaving the bedroom to her own.

The girls met in the living room fifteen minutes later, five minutes after they originally planned to leave. After sliding into heels, throwing lipstick, their own drinks, and IDs into their bags, they left their flat, whisking down to catch the Uber that had been waiting for them. They were usually good with driving to James’ flat, taking turns with drinking each week, but this Friday both girls planned to drink more than they could handle. It was supposed to be Cleo’s week to drink and (Y/N)’s turn to drive, but after a bit of heartbreak no less than 72 hours ago, Cleo gave her some slack and they split a drive across the city. How they would get home later was just up to the party gods. 

The vibrating bass of an Oliver Tree song led the girls right to the front door of James’ flat. 

The door was open, people popping in and out from the hallway, and they found themselves among those heading inside. They dodged the unfamiliar people that littered the space in the foyer, pushing inwards until they reached the center of everything and everyone in the living room - the multicolored lights revolving around the room, the drinks pouring behind them, dancing bodies filled the space between the sofas and next to the foosball table. Most house-parties didn’t truly start until 11 o’clock, but the height of these parties hit at 10 p.m. - better drinks, people not yet on the verge of blacking out, and better music. It beat going to a nightclub and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with people you didn’t know while downing an eight pound drink and dancing to yet another Rihanna remix. 

Like she was trained, her eyes instantly scanned the familiar space for Adrian, only for her mission to be cut short when James found her first, breaking away from his own girlfriend to greet them both. 

“Heyy!” She could tell he was already tipsy, borderline drunk, just like how the host of a party should be when everyone started to arrive. Laughing, she threw her arms around him and pulled him close, rocking from side-to-side before pulling apart and allowing him to hug Cleo, who stepped around from behind her. 

It was when she pulled back that she spotted him, but not because she was looking for him, but because he was looking for her. Adrian saw her come in, a light shine down onto her like she was the only person in the room, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she wore that off-the-shoulder top for him. 

Taking a step back while Cleo and James clashed in laughter and hugs, she looked at him, and her eyes followed his head as he looked down while a petite brunette leaned up to whisper in his ear. She felt her heart drop into her stomach and felt dumb for talking herself into believing he would come alone. Hell, the first time she met him at a party he had brought a date.

It was just a glance, tenths of a second, but it felt like an eternity. She needed something to distract her. Standing there, she decided that the pre-game bottle of rum wasn’t enough. She needed something a lot stronger in her system - she needed something that would make her dance, make her forget. 

When Cleo and James pulled apart, she grabbed Cleo’s hand and their eyes met through the flashing lights. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.” 

Cleo, the friend who was known to always be down for a good time, followed behind with no hesitation. She allowed (Y/N) to guide her through the bodies and straight to the table. They grabbed cups and made a concoction out of vodka and fizzy drinks, more vodka than anything else, and then downed them in just a few gulps. 

They poured another, this time to the rim, and carried the drinks to the floor while finding the rest of their friends with the intentions of working the room. Cleo spotted Becky in the hallway and nearly jumped over everyone to get to her and say hi, while leaving (Y/N) to sit on the kitchen island and talk to whoever came by. She chatted with Tobi and Josh and eventually Callum, and then Stephen stumbled (literally) around - it was Stephen who had his fair share of tequila shots, his eyes wild and laughter heightened, which made him much more ten times more fun than normal. 

“We just got back like two days ago!” Stephen called out as they talked about his trip to New York. “I’m still fuckin’ jet lagged but there’s no better time to get smashed then, aye?” 

She shook her head and his girlfriend, Zoe, leaned into her to speak over the music. “He won’t admit it but he threw up in the bathroom of a Broadway show after betting me he could eat an entire pizza by himself in half an hour.” 

While laughing, she raised her head and looked over everyone to see yet another familiar face, not uncommon in the flat, but this was one she hadn’t seen all night.

“William!” (Y/N) called out above the music, her face brightening, mostly due to the alcohol in her system, half due to the fact that she hadn’t talked to him since yesterday. The friend group was so close they often never went over 12 hours without talking to each other, barely 72 hours without being in the same room. 

She watched him, hovering above everyone else, push past circled groups and stop straight between her knees. He was tall enough to just be a few inches shorter even while she was perched on a tall kitchen stationary. 

“I didn’t know if you were coming or not.” She said, an arm sliding over his shoulders while he placed himself between her knees. His arm slipped around her torso, innocently letting his hand rest on the band of her jeans. 

“Ah, couldn’t resist it in the end. Had to come.” 

“Because you knew I would be here.” She teased with the biggest smile, digging a finger into his dimple, drawing a cheeky smile from him before he swatted her hand away. “Seriously glad you’re here though.” 

He leaned against her for support, “yeah, I was too,”

“And then Hanna walked in.” Stephen piped up, taking another sip from his drink, and Zoe slapped him on the arm. 

(Y/N) brow scrunched as the cup of vodka fell from her lips, glancing from Stephen and then back to Will. “She’s here?” 

Will let out a deep breath, using his hand to motion to the floor, but shrugged it off a second later. “With some bloke.” 

Using the height of the stationary to her advantage, she scanned the party, over each head, every face, until she finally spotted Hanna and her date. They were standing next to the coffee table, his arm around her waist while they talked closely, sharing a drink between them among the others who were dancing. 

“Well that’s a bit fucked,” she said under the music. 

Will nodded and looked up at her, pulling her apart from the conversation with Stephen and Zoe. “I saw Adrian too,” he said and she looked down at him, noting the way his hat shifted on his head, “now that’s a bit fucked.” 

She snorted at his repeated words. “Tell me about it,” 

“So how about we,” he paused, grinning, “go get some tequila shots?” 

It was normal for Will to pretend that things didn’t bother him, that he never let things get to him. Even though this time it was obvious he wanted to avoid all talk of his ex-girlfriend, they let it slide. The question wasn’t even really a question for her. Drinking and drinking and taking shots was the only thing in her agenda that night. 

“That’s a hard bargain you drive, William..”

“Stop talking like that and come on,” he said through small laughs.

He grabbed her hand and helped her hop down off the island, leaving her cup and the couple behind as they pushed through the throngs of people back to the drink table. It was actually a dining table, but tonight it served one purpose and one purpose only - the insane abundance of alcohol brought in to be stored and mixed. While allowing him to guide her, the effects of all of her drinks were starting to hit once and for all. The music was suddenly louder, the lights became blurry, her steps were a bit lighter.

It was the time in the night when it truly felt like a party scene from a movie - everyone dancing and laughing in slow motion, drinks spilling, the music becoming overpowering and propelling them forward. It was the moments that (Y/N) cherished the most. 

In the back of the room, she shouldered her bag and watched Will pour tequila into two small shot glasses that looked like cacti. He sat the bottle down and handed her a glass, keeping the other for himself. 

“To fuck all,” he finally said and she laughed, raising her arm. 

“To fuck all,” she repeated, clinking her glass with his. 

Bringing the small glass to her lips, she turned the bottom up, allowing the rich alcohol to slide down her throat, burning all the way down to her stomach. Her face twisted at the taste and so did Will’s, both laughing at their reactions seconds later. 

“Okay,” she said sitting the glass down and wiping the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, “again,” 

“Again?” His voice was heightened, face still scrunched from the taste. 

“I need something that will get me to dance here. And no amount of beer is going to give me the courage.” 

He smiled, popping the top off the bottle again, “okay, okay, one more, and then we’ll dance, yeah?” He poured the shots, handing her the same glass. “Here’s to… dancing?” 

“To dancing until someone plays Aitch?” 

“We’ll be dead asleep on a floor way before then.” 

It was only 12:30 a.m. to be fair. But more hours of drinking like this until someone played Taste would surely have them landed in a hospital. 

“Alright, to just dancing then, you knob,” she cursed back at him and he chuckled. 

They clinked their glasses together and slammed them back with no problem. On top of the drinks already in them, it didn’t take long for the effects of the tequila to take over. In the midst of the bodies, they were on the makeshift dance floor, dancing to the beat of every song as the alcohol coursed through their veins, as their heads spun. 

James had regained control of his own speaker from Alex and played from his playlist, which at the moment was filled with nothing but The 1975. He had saved all of their songs again in preparation for the upcoming show they were all attending, and this would have been good to practice to learn their songs if everyone going to the show wasn’t already pissed out of their minds.

The bass of She’s American thumped against the walls, surely granting them a noise complaint in the future, but the party carried on. (Y/N) danced among everyone, her hips rocking to the beat while she sang loudly. On the floor between the sofas, she could feel Adrian’s eyes on her. To be fair, his eyes hadn’t left her longer for three minutes the entire night - he was watching how she laughed with her friends, how easily she downed shots, and how she danced with the people she always told him were “just friends” for months.

She was well aware Adrian was looking when she turned to Will - Will’s hands shooting out to take hers as her body teetered and they laughed while she steadied her stance. Over Will’s shoulder when he stepped in closer, she could make out Hanna standing by the patio door, her eyes trained on them while they moved freely together.

“They’re watching us.” She thought out loud when the song changed to Give Yourself A Try. Gasps and shouts of excitement filled the room before more bodies filled the space between the two sofas, pushing everyone closer together. 

Will stood back to his normal height, eyebrow raised. “You want to give them something to watch?” He asked and she nodded innocently, not clear of exactly what his intentions were until he touched her waist. 

She followed his lead, allowing him to turn her around and step behind her, hands gripping her hips, guiding her back against his lap. The heavy beat of the song replaced the lyrics in her brain, and she rocked her hips against him to the fast tempo, the lights moving rapidly across their bodies. The idea of both of their exes watching drove them to make irrational decisions, and that included allowing them to dance this closely.

Leaning back against his chest, her arm snaked around his neck. Every move was a bad decision that night, so she was going to make all of them if it meant a little bit of revenge. 

“They made us jealous,” she whispered, head tilting back against his chest. Their breath was hot, mouths close. His eyes focused down on her, and her eyes flickered between his and his lips, then back up, “so let’s make them jealous.” 

His hand raised from her hip and grabbed her face, her hand on the back of his head, and they allowed their mouths to meet in the middle. He tasted like lime and she tasted like cherry chapstick and the tequila they had downed fifteen minutes ago, their heads were swirling. 

It was a harmless kiss, it wasn’t the first time they kissed after all. Another time, almost two years ago on a trip to Barcelona, they had too many drinks and spent the entire night after the club making out on the chaise lounge of their Airbnb while everyone else was asleep. It didn’t lead to anything and it actually became a running joke between them, because whatever attraction they had to each other, was only brought out through alcohol.

This night included. 

Because (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she would have turned around and pressed herself harder against him to deepen the kiss if there wasn’t a bit of something in her system. When she began to taste the alcohol on his tongue, the threads of her own sobriety started to weave together, and she knew this was a bad idea - kissing him like this, in a fit of petty revenge on their own exes who couldn’t help but watch on, their own anger boiling inside of them. But she didn’t care, in fact, she liked it.

When she stumbled back into the coffee table and their lips broke apart, it’s less than a second later that Will grabbed her arm and pulled her to the outskirts of the room, and her back was against the wall and his lips on hers again. That’s when she realized that maybe, just maybe, he liked it too.

***

When her eyes flutter open no less than five hours after she and Cleo stumbled back into their flat, the sun was already flooding her room through her sheer curtains. She closed her eyes again, shoving her head under the white duvet in an attempt to shield herself and her hangover from the world. No amount of painkillers or blue raspberry sports drinks was enough to fight off more or less than a dozen shots and a few drinks over the span of a few hours. 

From under the layers on her bed, she could hear Cleo down the hallway in the kitchen, flipping knobs on the stove, getting out plates. Cleo had always been an early riser no matter what the last night consisted of, and frankly, it was the worst part of being flatmates with her. She was just thankful that she made it to her bedroom and wasn’t on the sofa again, waking up to the sound of cupboards slamming at the ungodly hours of 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning. 

Cleo had found her under the covers an hour later - pushing her way into the bedroom with a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of Advil in the other. She laughed at the small ball bundled under the covers that was nursing a hangover and an upset stomach. 

“Hate yourself?” 

“What’s new,” she huffed, throwing her arms out and throwing the blanket off her. She squinted at the lights again, but her eyes adjusted quickly soon after. “What time is it?” 

“Almost ten,” Cleo said with a mouth full of toast, sitting down on the edge of her friend’s bed, holding out a plate of food. “Take a piece. I know you don’t want it, but you need it.” 

She knocked a couple tablets out of the bottle and handed them to (Y/N), allowing her to take them with the sports drink leftover on her nightstand. “Why are you up early this time?” 

“Because I didn’t drink as much as you did,” she said, taking the bottle back, holding it in her hand while she watched her shovel bread into her mouth. “And I think you are still drunk.” 

“Feel like hell,” 

“Yeah you’re still drunk.” Cleo laughed. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the traffic on the street outside their flat, to the crunching of the toast that made them laugh together a few seconds after. “So are you going to talk to me about it?” 

She raised a brow, knocking the crumbs off her hands off the side of her bed and placing the plate on the nightstand. “About what?” She asked, her mouth still full of bread. 

Cleo deadpanned, not believing the way she was playing off the events that happened just a mere few hours ago. The entire party was talking about it, or those who were stone-cold sober anyways, and on the nightstand her phone had been blowing up for at least an hour with texts and calls about it.

“Whatever happened between you and Will last night.” Cleo continued, remembering how she found them making-out against the wall in the living room. “Because I, for one, would like to know because… what the fuck, love?” 

Moments from last night flashed in the back of her mind - the burn of the tequila, the beat of the song, Will’s hands on her hips, her tongue in his mouth - and she slid down further into the bed, hands raising up to cover her face.

“No, no,” Cleo laughed, hopping up on the bed, straddling her friend’s waist. “You have to tell me. All of us are so confused because we all saw it and we have no idea what happened. One second I was banging back a shot and another second you were banging Will.” Cleo tried to pull her hands away from her face but only received a slap to her own hands and they both laughed. 

“Because I’m not sure either,” she said as Cleo dropped her hands. “It just… happened, you know?” 

“No, love, I don’t know. I don’t know how one goes from being a strong, independent single lady to making out with one of their best friends within well… an hour?” 

“It was the tequila shots, I tell you. They never did me well.” 

Cleo shook her head and rolled off the bed, her slippers hitting the carpeted floors. “Whatever, I’ll just tell everyone you did it to make Adrian jealous.” She said walking to the door. “And come eat breakfast, I didn’t bloody slave over a stove for you to not eat.” 

Her body stilled in the bed listening to Cleo’s explanation because in truth, that’s exactly what it was. A harmless kiss to make their exes jealous did turn into much more than that, but they were successful in the attempt. 

After seeing his ex-girlfriend kiss the friend she had always been closest too, Adrian and his date stormed out to the patio, and Hanna tried mimicking them, throwing herself onto her date in a desperate attempt to get Will to notice, but he was too busy with his own agenda to even give her a glance. 

When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hands flat against her lower back, the way his mouth slid against hers. It reminded her of the trip to Barcelona, but it felt different. It felt like this time they were more than just two drunk friends making out on a whim. And now that she was (slightly) sobered up, she didn’t know exactly how to feel about it. Her already fucked up emotions were thrown in a loop of denial, repressed heartbreak, and confusion. 

When the door clicked shut, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and pressed the button to see the screen light up with notifications - texts, phone calls, tweets, anything and everything from those trying to reach her. 

Cleo Gallagher hi hi are you awake if you are come eat also what the fuck happened last night

Jorge Why the heck is will saying you snogged him 

James + epals alright who stole the inflatable penis from the bathroom 

She also woke up to a hefty Instagram block from Hanna, which made her double-check Adrian’s Instagram too, but his private profile (that she unfollowed in a petty fit three days ago) came up like normal. She had unblocked his number last night too in fear that he would text her after the party and she wouldn’t know, but as of that hour, nothing had come from him either. 

And in an odd sense, she was okay with that. 

Tossing the phone down on the bed, her hands met her face again and she let out a deep breath. 

#:) #will #fic: affection #fanfic

[thegreatlarryfisherman]

Whoops I Wrote A Frenchie Thing!!

Warning: Angst, Angst, Angst!! Mentions of drug abuse, and just Frenchie being the most precious angel bean.

You’re the sister of Frenchie’s oldest, deceased friend.. and slipping into the den of the Boys, you’ve found your way back to your beloved French man... There’s only one problem.. Butcher.

“So you’ve got yourself a boyfriend, eh.” Butcher announced to the dark dim dingy basement of the hideout before his eyes landed back on you. For a moment, he simply leered at you before he rewarded you with a scoff and went on about his way.

Hughie looked up intently from his phone, seemingly regarding you for the first time since you’d been around. “Is it a Supe?”

“NO!” You shouted, overwhelmed he’d even suggest it. Your heart was pounding in your ears and it’d been ages since you’d been this nervous under scrutiny.

“So who is it then?” Butcher’s smile spread sadistically. “Some little cunt is tickling that fancy.. I think we deserve to know.”

“Why are you so fucking obsessed with my sex life?” You demanded and he chuckled, undoubtedly condescendingly to your tone of pure fury.

“So you are shagging then? Bloody good for you love.” Butcher teased and you scoffed as you snatched your leather jacket out of his hands, the one still smelling of your lover, and stomped into your corner of the hideout.

“Why you gotta do her like that man?” MM shook his head, clearly annoyed of Butcher’s teasing. “What—do you like her?”

Hughie caught Frenchie’s eye, excited to see how this fight would unfold. Yet, he saw a glint of something in Frenchie that he couldn’t put his finger on. Kimiko sat back from her corner, placing her books down and resting her fist under her chin.

“I could never fall for her.. She’s bloody Bambi.”

“But you do seem pretty invested in her every move.” Hugh shrugged nonchalantly. “Following her around, teasing her.. Playing mind games with her. That’s textbook bullying from rom coms.”

“OH COME OFF IT.” Butcher exploded before he left the room. Hughie took another look at Frenchie, noted the way his leg bobbed up and down, and his fingertips tapped his leg in a way that Hughie was only used to MM doing.

“Bathroom.” Frenchie briskly leapt to his feet and disappeared. Hughie eyed the exit for a moment before he slid into the empty space between MM and the tools he had propped up for his daughter’s doll house.

“Hey.” He made sure to keep his voice low so that Kimiko wouldn’t hear. “What if it’s Frenchie?”

MM simply hummed a chuckle, his broad shoulders rising a bit. “What makes you think that, kid?”

“Notice how he’s quiet when Y/N is around. I mean, I know how respects Butcher but he fought for Kimiko, and it just seems like.. his silence is.. I don’t know.. out of character.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us.”

“When was the last time Frenchie was up front about anything we didn’t make fun of him about? What if he’s scared? ”

“Kid. If the French man had his tongue up Y/N’s ass, we’d know. Trust me.”

Meanwhile..

“Mon coeur.” Frenchie stood outside of your curtain of space, trying to be respectful. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You growled out, tossing your jacket to the nearest chair. You knew he’d step in and like clockwork, he did. He rushed to your bedside, sitting on the edge. 

“You’re not. When you’re fine, you say. I’m ‘okay.’ But when you’re in distress, you.. scrunch your nose up and pretend to not care..” He scratched the back of his head. “He’s picking on you.”  “So maybe we just tell them.” He shook his head.

“We can’t.” You insist. “Butcher would kill you. Skin me. I don’t get what his fucking deal is with me.” You shook your head at the door. “He treats me worse than Starlight.” 

“He likes you, mon coeur. He was that way with Petite Hughie until you came along. I want to stick up for you but it will blow this secret.” “Can’t have that.” You mutter. “Because you’re ashamed of me.” “No.” You snatch his hand up and search his devastated eyes. “Aren’t you afraid of what anyone will think? Kimiko? Cherie?” “Butcher.” “Anyone.” You took his face and guided it back into your focus. “Serge.” You knew he melted out the sound of you saying his real name. “You have to admit that Everytime you look into my eyes.. you see my brother.. and I see your fear. Like you think I’m going to OD and end up like him. There’s so much more layer to this than Butcher being an asshole.”

“Jay WOULDVE been pissed, if he knew I was with his sister..” His eyes flitted away from yours for a second.

“Serge.” 

“I’m not afraid of anyone knowing... not Kimiko-- not anyone. A part of me just.. wants to keep you safe and I hate seeing you smelling that-“ he gestured the jacket. “When my arms are right here.” He spread his arms out. “I’m tired of being a slave to these super heroes. I already lost my best friend.. I don’t want to lose the love of my life.” He concluded. “Run away with me. If we can’t tell anyone then we should just start over.” He got up and you felt sorrow fill you. He would get like that every time you were faced with an obstacle..  “Ser—“  “NO!!” He exclaimed cutting you off because he already knew what you were going to say.  “Let’s just tell them.” “You don’t want that.” “It’s eating you up inside.” “You don’t want me to hurt but seeing you and not being able to hold you.. I can’t—“ you stood up and wrapped your arms around him. His eyes traveled past you, fury fighting with sadness. “Babe.” He slowly dragged his gaze to you. “Promise that if things get complicated that you won’t.. pull back on this. My heart is just beating out of my chest at the thought.” “Je te promets.” He insisted scooping you into his arms and planting frantic kisses to your face. “Je ne aurais jamais” You squeezed your eyes shut and reveled in his caresses. It had been days. // dinner  “Hey.” Hugh came up to you, nervously. “You’re not wearing your jacket.” “Yeah.” You said, your eyes catching Frenchie across the room. He smiled faintly and you smiled down at your feet.  “Listen...” Hugh placed his hand on your shoulder. “When Annie and I started seeing each other.. I was worried about what the guys would think. But MM.. he supported me. Even after she almost killed me.” Your eyes reached his and he smiled almost brotherly at you. “Whoever it is, we want you to be happy. Even Butcher... though he has a weird way of showing it.” “I appreciate that.” “Even if it’s a supe.” His eyes sparkled with humor.  “It’s not!” You laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Okay okay. Well. Open Pandora’s box already, will ya?” The group all eventually sat at the table, you at your rightful place between Cherie and Kimiko. Kimiko watched you, with intrigue and you pushed your food around your plate. Butcher propped his feet up and uncapped his sixth beer of the night. “So..” Hugh sighed. “Are we gonna address the elephant in the room.” “Sure.” Butcher called into the air. “Y/N. I don’t want you dating anyone.” “I’m sorry..” you sputtered. “What?” “I don’t want you dating anyone. Not to be a piss poor wanker but, I look at you and I see Becca. I hate it but it’s there and I will physically kill anyone who’s near you because I don’t want to see you hurt. I’ll hurt you before I let you get hurt.” “I won’t get hurt.” You insisted.  “I. Dont. Care.” Butcher shrugged. “I’ll kill him, her, them, whoever it is.”  “You uh...” Hugh frowned and looked at Frenchie whose eyes were trained on his plate. “You can’t kill him.” You stuck your chin up. “Because—“ you froze when you caught the slightest signs from Frenchie. A simple shake of his head. His eyes were stinging with tears and his fork waved back and forth mirroring his head. He was saying don’t, and he knew you’d be looking. Everything he’d said to you stifled by fear once more. He’d lied and this was the most embarrassing moment of your life. “Because we broke up.” “Oi!” Butcher clapped. “And why’s that?” “He said I reminded him of someone else.” You trained your eyes on your plate to hide the tears. Hugh glanced at Frenchie. “French, you haven’t said much. What’s your opinion on this?” Hugh cleared this throat.  Frenchie took a long, deep breathe before he lifted his head and commanded your attention. “Good for you, mon ami.” He swallowed deeply. “Any man who is afraid to love you because of what he’s lost in his past... doesn’t deserve you. That man is weak, sick, a fucking disgrace.” He paused and his eyes fluttered shut and opened, revealing every single fiber of pain. “You deserve better.” Dinner went on but you were frozen in that spot. Cherie tapped you and you looked over.“You okay?” “Ah yeah. Can you score me an eight ball? I’m good for the cash.” You spoke low enough that you knew he wouldn’t hear. “Maybe some white?” Cherie slowly arched her head back and looked at you. “You sure?” “I’m fine.” You firmly stated. 

#Frenchie One shot #The boys #Frenchie #The Boys One Shot #Frenchie Fan Fiction #I've had this one in the chamber

[jupitersflytrap]

SUMMARY OF NEW WEST END LES MIS BECAUSE I JUST SAW IT ( hella long post)

ACT I

look down was just a brillant start to a brilliant show

THEY ADDED PETIT GERVAIS OH MY GOD

amazing, amazing valjean. 24601/10

valjean got absolutely battered by mr “feel the weight of my rod”

also there were flaming torches now and throughout which was pretty sick

valjean crying when the bishop redeems him

the hordes in at the end of the day had their shawls taken off to become the factory girls which was cool

there was a PROPER SCRAP between fantine and the factory girl

there was a lot of fighting in this actually

it was good tho

carrie hope fletcher just... *chefs kiss*

no teeth pulling for fantine in lovely ladies

and all the ladies were really good too

when fantine told valjean her story she was clinging onto him and crying it was… very emotional

have i mentioned javert yet? because he was really really good, bradley jaden really came through

fantine dying was extremely sad. as usual.

THE CONFRONTATION WAS THE BEST EVER IT WAS A PROPER FIGHT AND OOOH IT WAS JUST GREAT

THE UNIFIED “JAVERT!” GAVE ME CHILLS I SWEAR

anyways

madame. frickin. thénardier. was excellent. she was a really nice change from the normal pantomime vibes, like a cross between that and helena bonham carter in the film

the actor playing thénardier had some problem with his vocal chords so he wasn’t on, but the cover was acting his heart out and trying his best to sing but i think he’d lost his voice too which was a huge shame. he was still really good and funny though.

that master of the house… my god. hilarious.

there was a new bit at the start of it??? very exciting. it was like,,, people ordering drinks i think

valjean and little cosette was… so cute i literally can’t

the bargain was brilliant as per

GAVROCHE WAS AMAZING

look down featured enj and marius getting told off by the police and getting their banner taken down

also enjolras??? hello?????? he was amazing and pretty much exactly how i picture him. stellar work ashley gilmour.

and harry apps was a brilliant marius, big brick!marius energy

and!!! eponine was so cheeky with marius it was adorable

stars?????? amazing. emotional. the street-lamps were on wires which was nice.

red and black!!!!! new!!!!! harmonies!!!!!!! yes!!!!! also it was perfect in general marius was so melodramatic and grantaire was so… sexual with the bottle

do you hear the people sing!!!! oh lord i heard them!!

also all of les amis were just great

in my life!!!!! oh cosette!!! marius!!!! eponine!!!!!! oh god they were all so well cast and their voices were all unique and beautiful

a heart full of love!! my heart is full of love for this cast!!

oh side note montparnasse was very handsome and had a knife

ONE DAY MOOOOOOORE was as rousing as ever

ACT II

on my own,,,,, oh god my tears, shan ako’s voice is just gorgeous and i love what she did with the song

monsieur warnings was great

and the spy javert?? excellent scene. “SHOOT THE BASTARD” great work gav

they said “incoming!” instead of “there’s a boy climbing the barricade!” which i think was more fitting tbh

yeah so eponine got shot and little fall of rain nearly broke me

grantaire was holding gavroche back :(( my heart

AND WHEN SHE DIED HER HAT CAME OFF AND GAVROCHE HANDED IT BACK TO MARIUS OH MY GOD

drink with me had no right to be that emotionally devastating

grantaire was angry and enjolras tried to comfort him but he pushed him away :((((

on the upside tho whoever it was that sang the line about witty girls who went to their beds then got slapped by the witty girl it was directed towards lmao

OKAY SO bring him home!!!!!!!!! NORMALLY i really don’t like this song it feels a bit like torture to me BUT!! MR JON ROBYNS MADE IT SO GOOD, I WAS HANGING ONTO HIS EVERY WORD AND IT WAS JUST BEAUTIFUL

also the staging was great he was sitting on the barricade above sleepy marius

it was just generally great and the old man sitting near me audibly said WOW when he started singing

okay now it’s time for the deaths

FIRST OFF gavroches death was...... harrowing. he made it back to the top of the barricade before he died. when he got shot there was like a blood effect and i was just,,, shook tbh

now the other deaths

hoooooly shit

enjolras died first and i was not prepared AT ALL so i just started sobbing

everyone else died and grantaire was last f

it was super sad and i was crying basically the whole way through this bit lmao

jvj + marius -> sewers

BUT FIRST the bit with enjolras dead hanging off the cart!!! oh no!!!!!! the tears!!!! and when they picked up gavroche and put them together i just,,

yep

okay now dog eat dog

don’t like this song much but it served its purpose in distracting me from my tears by suddenly pulling teeth out before my very eyes

thanks thénardier

back to the surface! it’s javert! speaking in third person again! he’s very unhinged now which i like, hair all loose and everything

oh god the soliloquy i just,,,,, oh god, the staging of this was amazing but i won’t spoil it :))

TURNING YES IT WAS ALL I COULD HAVE HOPED FOR

empty chairs… oh marius baby he looked so broken, and all the candles were great as ever

oh marius whatever will we do with you

not to worry cosette is here to make it all better with her amazing voice, and her weird dad to make it all worse again with a criminal record

huge brick!marius energy here, very much passive until valjean told him to be angry lmao

THE WEDDING!! IT WAS SO SWEET! cosette’s dress was gorgeous

the thénardiers were great here as well, mrs thénardier was eating snacks the whole way through the bargain with marius

and marius punched thénardier in the stomach

i also cackled very loudly when mrs t tried to pass off stealing the silver as a magic trick

valjean kicked the bucket in the most stunning way he could have tbh

and of course the reprise of dyhtps had me in tears as always

amazing

just amazing

STAGE DOOR

added bonus: i got to chat to and get autographs of a few of the cast at stage door

they were all lovely!! carrie, shan, ciaran, harry, lily, jon, loved ya

also harry had a cut on his hand and someone asked how he’d got it and he said “i wish i could say it was on the barricade, but i cut it on a can of baked beans” and if that’s not the most in character thing ever i don’t know what is.

okay intense summary over hope u enjoyed

#les mis #long post #plant rant #les mis west end #les miserables