#still this was cute and easy to write given my circumstances

[angel-eyes05]

What's In A Name

pairing: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

summary: as a master thief, you pride yourself on never getting caught. that is until you're caught by the straw hats as you try stealing from their ship. unable to turn you in to the authorities just yet, they'll have to make due with storing you on the going merry in the meantime. but, your time in confinement has allowed you to get particularly close to a certain swordsman. how close the two of you get is to be decided though.

warnings/info: nsfw mdni, oral sex (fem receiving), alcohol consumption, drunk/tipsy sex, face riding, my own sex headcanons for zoro are VERY clear here lmao ,takes place in between jaya and skypiea (please pretend theres more time at sea in between those arcs cause this will not work otherwise OK THANKS), this is for the pre-time skip zoro girlies (he's 19 pre-time skip dont come for me), no use of y/n, the first half of this is just cute shenanigans between reader and the straw hats. its a lot of character building stuff but i like it.

word count: 6.3k

notes: HI GUYS IM BACK IVE MADE MY RETURN I FOUND SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!!!! and its the longest fic ive ever written too god damn what a comeback lmao. ok so i started watching one piece and im head over heels in love with this man...but i'm only up to water 7 rn so i only know how to properly write for pre-time skip zoro so thats how this is gonna go. i was looking for zoro/one piece fics to read but theyre literally all established relationship ones which aren't my cup of tea so im doing it myself lmao. also i didnt proofread i got too lazy sorry if some stuff doesnt make sense sorry sorry sorry but im a simple lazy tired girlie lmao enjoy!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You didn’t know any of their names.

You had been aboard the Going Merry for about three weeks now, and you still hadn’t learned anyone’s names. Granted, your reason for being there wasn’t to make friends anyway. That wasn’t particularly easy to do, being tied up in some storage closet and all. 

Being one of the few residents who actually lived on Jaya had allowed you to pick up a skill or two when it came to stealing. Pirates with big bounties and even bigger treasures left their ships unattended at the docks, leaving you with some perfect quick heists from time to time. Some steals were easier than others. As much as you believed in your talents, most of the time your ability to get out unscathed was based purely on the luck of the draw. It wasn’t an easy life, many recent nights leaving you with more injuries than berries and gold pieces, but it was all you knew having lived here for so long. 

After having taken a break from heists for a bit, you finally laid your eyes on a ship worth stealing from. A pirate ship with a goat out in front and seemingly orange trees next to the helm. Most of the ships at the dock had been there for a while, leaving the pirates on board used to your tricks already. Being low on cash was another factor. So, after a bit of planning, you made your way onto the ship.

Earlier, you had found that one of the windows to a cabin had been left open, so you decided to make your entrance through there. You gathered your things and dove into the crystal blue water by the dock. Once you made it to the back of the ship, you took your rope, with your own handmade grappling hook at the end, and swung it to hook on the window sill. Luckily for you, it stuck the landing on the first try. You smirked to yourself and used the hook as leverage to climb up onto the ship. Unfortunately, this seemed to be the ship’s bathroom. Not super ideal. You’d have to venture more out into the ship. But with this came the risk of getting caught. Given your dire circumstances though, it was a risk you were willing to take.

With an attempt to make as little creak as possible, you slightly opened the door into the rest of the interior. Coast was clear so far. Suddenly, a shake rattled throughout the interior. You tumbled onto the floor, pushing open a door due to your unbalance. What the fuck was that, you thought to yourself. It quickly became no matter though, when you noticed the door had opened up to a room with a treasure chest tucked away in the back. Jackpot. You slyly made your way into the room and shut the door behind you. 

The room was neatly kept, with bookshelves, a couch, two sleeping hammocks, and a desk with navigation tools on it. There was even a bar. Though temptation pursued at you, you had to stay on task. While making your way over to the chest, you heard different creaks vibrating across the walls of the ship. You prayed to yourself that it was just the wood’s reaction to the waves. As you had predicted, the chest was locked, so you searched your bag for anything that could key the lock. 

Time became of the essence quickly as the thuds and creaks on the ship grew louder and louder. Finally, the lock to the chest made a perfect click, as the chest unlocked. You lifted the roof of the chest to find a sight for sore eyes: jewels and gold galore. This was it, you were set. You were so in awe with the vision before you, that you had failed to notice the woman standing behind you. The image you saw in one of the emeralds was a tall figure, with jet-black hair just below her shoulders, and dazzling blue eyes. “Looking for something?” the woman questioned, almost sarcastically. You seemed to have forgotten rule number one of thieving. Remember to lock the door behind you.

Quick on your feet, you whip around to throw a punch in her face, but her reflexes seem to be quicker than yours by the way she catches your fist. You then attempt to kick out her legs. The image you see next shakes you to your core. A hand, seeming to appear out of thin air, attaches itself to your calf. The hand then slowly raises your fear-frozen body into the air, dangling you upside down like a party toy. You attempt to throw more hits at her, all seeming to be in vain though. You kick and scream, like a child throwing a tantrum, in an attempt to get out. The woman looks out into the hallway and signals over another one of her companions. Fuck, this is turning sour fast. Before you can make out any other features of the man, besides his cartoonishly long nose, he uses his slingshot to pelt a rock towards your forehead. Your vision goes black as the rest of the pirates rush into the room.

The rough fibers of the rope tying your wrists together were the first thing you felt as you woke up. This was quickly followed by the underlying nausea from the waves rocking the boat, reminding you why you preferred to stay on land. You attempted to stand up, but your dizziness and the rope tying you to the floor weren’t letting you get very far. Suddenly, the door to whatever room you were in swung open, and the group of 7 pirates living on board entered the room. You slinked yourself along the back wall, attempting to disappear into your skin. You weren’t sure what felt worse: The fear of what they were going to do to you, or the embarrassment that you had been doing this for so long and still got caught.

Nope, definitely the embarrassment.

The man, no boy was a better word to describe him, standing in the middle of them attempted to speak to you before a woman with short orange hair cut him off. “If you think we’re gonna let you get off easily just because we’re also pirates, you’d be sorely mistaken!” she spoke, fiery anger lacing her words. The tall woman from earlier put her hand on her shoulder, calming her down, and walked out towards you. You tried to scoot away as much as you could as she crouched down to your level. 

“Listen, we want this to be over as much as you do. We would love nothing more than to get you off our ship and drop you off at the nearest island. But unfortunately for us, that would mean having to find a group of marines to hand you over to, who we aren’t the best of friends with right now. And we can’t drop you back off at Jaya since we’re too far by this point. So, for now, we’ll just have to keep you tied down here if that works out with you.” You began to speak before the woman cut you off. “You don’t have much of a choice in the matter by the way.”

She stood back up and began to exit the room, the other pirates following her except for two. The boy with the straw hat and another man, with striking green hair and three swords lying in a holster on his belt. The boy looked somberly at you as if he was against this whole idea. But the green-haired one just stared at you. As uncomfortable as it made you feel, you couldn’t help staring back into his piercingly soft eyes. “Come on, let’s go,” the green-haired man said to the boy, finally breaking eye contact and turning his back to leave. The boy followed him shortly after. As he closed the door, you had nothing left to focus on except for the itchiness of the rope, the empty stuffiness surrounding the storage room, and your worsening seasickness.

The following weeks had the same routine. Each of the pirates on board took individual shifts watching you during the day when they were just out at sea. The strange reindeer creature would watch you when they were out on islands. The first shift was taken by the tall black-haired woman. She would come in at the break of dawn to make sure you didn’t find some way to escape at night. You two would sit in silence for a little more than two hours, asking and answering some questions before switching spots with the blonde one. His company was strange, with him hitting on you at random points in your conversations, but he always brought you breakfast in the morning. As much as he made you uncomfortable sometimes, you couldn’t deny that his cooking was the best you’d had in years. He’d even let you take a hit off his cigarettes if you ever asked, so his visits had its perks. 

The next shift was taken by the orange-haired one. The first thing she would always do when walking into the room was ask you how creepy the blonde one was. The answer varied on the day. Once she warmed up to you, she would bring you tangerines from the trees out on the deck. As the days passed, she eventually explained that the treasure you attempted to steal belonged to her, which you begrudgingly apologized for. On some level, you felt bad. These seemed to be small-time pirates, just trying to get by like you were. The more you learned about each of them, the worse you felt about your actions towards them. 

Around lunchtime, the long-nosed one would bring you your meal, cooked again by the blonde man. This member would go into detail about his next invention he was working on in his workshop. You admired his passion and energy towards his craft. His rants and rambles were normally interrupted by the reindeer creature coming in for his shift, causing intense, yet entertaining, arguments to break out between the two of them. The reindeer was the sweetest of all the crew members, always checking in on your health and helping you with your seasickness. He would talk about his home and his experiences there. You developed a pity for the creature. His presence was calming, and you felt as if you could let your guard down around him. That would change as soon as the straw hat boy would come bouncing into the room, scaring both you and the animal. You would soon come to learn the energetic boy was the captain of the ship, which shocked you. But you soon came to understand why. His crew had a massive respect for him, even if he was the root of half their problems.

Being on the ship, you got extremely close to all the pirates. Even the tall woman from before seemed to respect you in some way. You enjoyed all of their company. There was something strange about them though. One morning early in your stay on the ship, you could’ve sworn you’d heard the tall woman say something to the rest of the crew. 

“Whatever you do, don’t tell her your name. Your name is your biggest secret.”

You didn’t know any of their names. You had thought you heard some of them speak it to each other in passing conversations, but not enough to remember who was who. You had bonded with them, but if someone put a gun to your head and told you to name your prison guard pirates, you’d be dead in seconds.

Except for one.

Zoro seemed to be his name. He would come in for the last shift. His presence didn’t frighten you, but it slightly intimidated you. His habit of carrying his swords everywhere he went wasn’t helping. He was silent his entire shift, normally dosing off halfway through after spending around an hour sharpening his swords You didn’t even attempt to make conversation with him. You found out his name when the captain would yell for him to get back to his sleeping quarters. “Zoro! Your shift’s done, you can sleep for real now!” he shouted across the hall the first time it happened. Zoro almost bounced up from his sleep and gave you one look before bolting out of the room to catch up to the captain. You could hear the echoes of their bickering from down the hall as you giggled to yourself. At least he didn’t seem to always be that stern.

It seemed crazy to you. His name was the only one you knew, yet you knew the least about him. He had hardly said 5 sentences to you in the three weeks you had been on the boat. His stoicism was one of the things that drew you into him though. Something about his demeanor, how intensely he would sharpen his swords, how his worries seemed to melt away the minute he escaped into a slumber, and how alive he seemed when he was with his crew. It was enticing. You wanted to know more. You attempted asking him questions about himself, but the most you would get were one to two-word answers. The most you got from him was when your seasickness finally got to you, causing you to puke up the dinner the blonde one made for you. “Woah, are you okay?” he asked concernedly, shooting up from his seat. When your only response was a cough and more puke, he ran out of the room to go get the reindeer. One thing he failed to do was close the door behind him. 

You speculated your options. You had no idea where you were. You could be out in the middle of the ocean. Or you could be right about to dock at land. If you managed to scrape yourself about the ever-loosening rope and sneak out, you’d be free. You’d never have to worry about these pirates again. 

At this point though, did you want to?

You took too long to decide, the reindeer rushing into the room with his medical kit, the blonde one short behind him. As the reindeer gave you a dose of medicine and cleaned up your mess and the blonde one held your hand and consoled you, your attention stayed by the doorframe. Zoro leaned against the wood, watching the work from afar. What shocked you most of all was his face. For a man who seemed so disinterested in you and your existence, his brows were furrowed, his cheeks had a light pink stain on them, and a slight frown invaded his face. He was concerned. Maybe even a little nervous. But why? He’d never shown any sort of emotion towards you before other than sleepiness. Once the reindeer and the blonde one left, he continued with his shift. You noticed something though. He sat closer to you than he normally did. 

You couldn’t tell, but you were blushing the rest of his shift.

Once he left, you sat in silence, thoughts racing through your mind, until you finally fell asleep.

You noticed a change in his behavior in the next few days. When you would ask him a question, he would respond now. And with more than just a “yes” or “no” too. He had more energy around you and wouldn’t spend his whole shift asleep. He would even let out a chuckle now and then. You didn’t know what you had done differently to get him like this, but you liked him like this. He was sweeter than he let on. 

Something had changed in you too though. On the occasions, you would catch yourself looking over his appearance. The more you observed, the more you realized how handsome he was. His clear, warm skin, his hypnotic eyes, his striking hair. You caught his appearance giving you butterflies when he would walk into your storage room. Your heart skipping a beat when he would give you even the smallest smile. You would stare even more when he would nap during his shift. Noticing certain things. The way his breath would hitch sometimes. How he always slept with his mouth open and would wake himself up sometimes with his dry mouth coughs. How his chest rose and fell with his soft breaths. How fighting with a sword in his mouth probably made his tongue stronger than other men you’ve met. You felt weird about it sometimes. Almost like some freakish stalker. But you would feel better about yourself whenever you would catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. 

As time went on, the crew began to give you some more freedom. The tall woman began leaving some of her archeology books in the storage room to keep you entertained. The orange-haired one would show you all her marked-up maps. The long-nosed one would even let you out of the rope to test his inventions from time to time. With the door locked of course. And then, the big display came. One day, during everyone’s shift, they told you their names. The blonde one was Sanji. The orange-haired one was Nami. The reindeer was Chopper. The long-nosed one was Usopp. Their captain was Luffy. And the tall woman, who initiated your imprisonment, was Robin. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you. With each passing shift, you grew more excited for the next. To learn the next pirate’s name, and with that, their story. Until the last shift of the day came. And you realized.

You already knew his name.

“My name’s Zoro,” he said quietly. “I know,” you replied, bluntly. 

Something felt different about this shift. You didn’t feel the same excitement you normally felt when seeing him. Without your connection to him before, his being the only name you knew, something about him just didn’t excite you as much. Now he noticed your behavior change. “You okay?” he inquired. “Mhm,” you responded in monotony. The rest of his time there was spent in silence. 

You felt bad about what you were doing. This wasn’t his fault. Yet you were acting like this. It was almost as if the two of you swapped places. He was now the one trying to dig information out of you. And you gave him nothing more than blank faces and empty words. You wished you could figure out why you were acting like this, but you had no clue.

Today though, the crew was going to take an extra step towards including you. Throughout your time on the Going Merry, you had only left your little storage room prison a few times. To go to the bathroom and visit the kitchen on special occasions. But you hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. After proving to the crew you had changed, they planned a little surprise for you.

Robin woke you up earlier than usual. “Is everything ok?” you asked, still half asleep. Robin just smiled at you. “Come on, get up.” You looked at her confused, as she walked over to your restraints, untying you from the hook keeping the rope down. She took you by your restraints and walked you out to the room. The mix of drowsiness and confusion left you slightly panicked as you realized she was walking you out to the deck. She opened the door to a still-dark morning. 

The rest of the Straw Hats were sitting out on the deck, just conversing and eating an extra early breakfast, courtesy of Sanji. They all turned to you once you and Robin walked out. “What’s going on,” you asked, still very confused. “On Thursdays, we all like to get up early and sit out and watch the sunrise. And we were talking about it, and we felt like you should join us this time,” Nami smiled. She stood up and pranced over to you, mouth slightly agape and speechless, and took you over to sit in between her and Zoro. You turned to Zoro, overwhelmed with emotions. 

It had been so long since you felt a part of a community of people. You never exactly fit in with the ruthless bands of pirates coming and going on Jaya. Finally feeling connected to people, especially after you wronged them so horribly, brought you happiness you hadn’t felt in ages. 

A singular “I-” was all you could manage to get out, a tear trickling down your cheek. “Just enjoy it. They’ll be at each other’s throats again in a minute,” he joked, getting a soft laugh out of you. He smiled gently, brushing the tear off your cheek. His finger lingered there longer than expected. You blushed. The butterflies were back and you caught yourself staring again.

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Nami interrupted. “Well, it’s true!” Zoro retorted, leaning over you to yell at Nami. The two began arguing as you noticed the sun starting to peak out over the horizon. “Shut up you two, you’re gonna make her miss it!” Usopp and Luffy yelled. They stopped bickering once they also noticed the sky begin to turn orange. 

The pinks and oranges mixed together in a beautiful watercolor painting as the sun reflected its image on the ocean. The soft waves bobbed the ship up and down in a calming hypnotic motion, almost putting you back to sleep. The beauty of it all was so serene. Against popular opinion, you always preferred sunrises to sunsets. The representation of a new day beginning. It gave you hope in your most dire situations. 

You lifted your head back to see the colors slowly spreading to the rest of the sky. Everyone to your right was in the same headspace you were like they were in some sort of trance. They were all cuddling against each other, Robin holding Chopper in her lap, Luffy and Usopp mimicking each other’s smiles, and Nami resting her head on Sanji’s shoulder. They all seemed so close to each other. Like a little family. Connected. You turned to Zoro to see if he was doing the same as the others, but all you found was his eyes softly gazing into yours, and his hand slowly inching towards yours. The minute he snapped out of it, he sharply turned his head and hand away and cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh at his schoolboy behavior. With your ego controlling your actions, you took his hand and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. You could see a smile float onto his face out of the corner of your eye. You did the same.

The rest of the day was spent out on the deck. The feeling of the sun on your skin for the first time in weeks was euphoric. All you wanted to do was soak it all in. The Straw Hats must have been in a good mood today, because, with some extra convincing, you got them to finally take off your shackles. You spent most of the day sunbathing out on the deck with Nami. She had let you borrow one of your bikinis. You two were slightly different sizes though, so the suit was a little tight on you. You didn’t mind very much. You were just happy to be out of the same clothes you had worn for 3 weeks. Sanji didn’t mind either, ogling both you and Nami and basically worshipping the two of you. “It’s ok, he’ll get over it in a few hours,” Nami consoled. You circled the deck a few times to see if Zoro was anywhere in sight, but you couldn’t seem to find him. He probably went inside to nap away from the heat. Part of you wanted him to get the rest he deserved. The other really wanted him to see you in your outfit. 

The day really took a turn when Usopp brought out the liquor from the kitchen. “I was saving that asshole!” Sanji yelled. “Oh come on, this is a special occasion!” Usopp pleaded. With some more convincing, Sanji finally gave in. You and the crew got increasingly drunk throughout the evening, Zoro eventually coming out from wherever he was napping to join the party. You all had even decided to jump into the ocean and swim around for a little bit. All except for Chopper, very sober and very nervous for any incoming sea monsters. He had managed to get you all back onto the ship with some very convincing pleading.

You and Zoro caught each other catching glimpses of one another throughout the rest of the day. Zoro admiring your figure in the swimsuit, and you ogling at the way his damp shirt hugged at his muscles. One by one, as day grew into night, crew members began to pass out on the deck, deciding to sleep outside for the night. You and the other members who wanted to go back into the cabin, Zoro and Robin, made your way back down into the ship. “Make sure you tie her back up. No hard feelings but we can’t be too careful.” Even slightly tipsy, she was still her stern old self. “Yeah whatever whatever, goodnight to you too,” Zoro drunkenly pushed off. You giggled and blushed as he took your hand and led you down the stairs into the cabin. Robin sighed to herself as she watched the two of you scamper off.

You felt your heartbeat get increasingly faster as he led you to your room. For some reason, the air in the hallway got thicker as you got closer. You blamed it on your tipsiness. But your heart slowly sank as you got to the door, realizing you had to say goodbye to Zoro for the day. He opened the door and stumbled into your room, leading you in behind him. He closed the door behind him, hesitating for a moment before going to wrap the rope back around your wrists. 

He seems distressed for some reason, breathing heavily and avoiding eye contact. You look down at your hands, as he so gently maneuvers the rope around them. The butterflies begin to well up in your stomach again, the alcohol fueling their ferocity. His hands. So calloused yet so gentle. You can smell the remnants of sake exuding from Zoro’s heavy breaths. You looked back up at him. Were you two always standing this close together? You the butterflies keep rising and rising. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re not sure if you should run, kiss him, punch him, but you have to do something before you implode. Until. He stops.

The rope undoes itself in his hands as he freezes. His hands are shaking, his breath is heavy, and his eyes avoid yours like the plague. You were just getting antsy but Zoro seemed in distress. “Hey?” you ask, lowering your hands and dropping the rope to the floor. “Zoro?” You take your hand under his chin and lift his eyes to yours. You might throw up at any second. His eyes are so softly intense. 

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, sending chills down your spine. You both want the same thing. Both of you are just too scared to take the chance. “It’s ok. You’re okay,” you reassure him, placing your hand over his heart. His heart, which happens to be underneath his bare chest, him having taken off his wet shirt earlier. His breathing slows, and his eyes move down ever so smoothly from your eyes to your plump lips. You catch yourself doing the same to him, and you inching closer to him. “You’re fine.” Closer. “We’re gonna be…fine.” Your lips barely brush each other. The gentleness of the kiss is calming though, as you notice Zoro’s breath slowing. 

You brush again. And again. And again. Lips touching a little more with each meet. Until they fully interlock. The two of you melt into each other as Zoro wanders your back into a wall for support. Your kisses are structured, made to get the most out of each meeting. You’re both ravenous for each other, but you know if you go at each other like mad dogs, you won’t get what you want. So you both take your time getting to know the feeling of the other person’s mouth. You slip a moan out as Zoro’s tongue seeps between your lips. His kisses get slightly more sloppy as he runs his hands down your body. He feels the underneath of your breasts, the curves of your waist and hips, and finds a nice resting place under your ass. Your hands roam his cheeks and jaw, making their way to tug slightly on his moss-colored hair. 

“Needed this,” Zoro whispers in between kisses. “Needed you so badly. But I didn’t know how.” He separates his lips from yours and plants kisses and hickeys along your jaw and neck. “I was always just too nervous for some reason. You make me so nervous.” His hands find their way into your bikini bottom and fondle your asscheeks, getting a low moan out of you. The alcohol must’ve given him a confidence boost. “Good to see you found your footing now,” you whisper in his ear. He chuckles, the butterflies speeding up in your stomach. 

The two of you stay here for a little bit. Hell, you could stay like this for hours. Just soaking each other in. Feeling his warmth brought a fire into your soul. You could tell Zoro was getting a little antsy though, one of his hands moving from your back to your front, beginning to slowly circle your clit. The other hand went to your bikini, untying the back and letting it fall to the floor as his mouth moved to your breast. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body as you let him do his work. “God, you sure this is your first time?” you moaned out. He removed his mouth from your nipple to talk. “Never said it was, sweetheart. You just assumed it.” “Well from the loner vibe you got going on mixed with being on this ship 24/7, you can’t blame me for thinking that.” “Well the loner vibe worked on you, so who’s to say it hasn’t worked on others?” he smirked. You laughed to yourself as he got down on his knees.

Zoro slipped off your bikini bottom, completing the set on the floor. He kissed your v-line with the same softness he treated your lips to. He sat back on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, looking up at you, as if to ask for permission. You held your hand out to his cheek and rubbed it with your thumb. His eyes closed as he placed his hand over yours, as if you would ever take it away from him. God now this was a sight you could get used to. He was so infatuated with you it made your heart ache. He was right here at your disposal, yet you wanted more of him. So you bent down and gave him a sloppy forehead kiss. Once you were back up, he decided to go in. 

Like most things he does, he started slow and controlled. He kissed and sucked on your inner thighs. Once his hand finally left your clit, you knew he was ready. He kissed your cunt, using his tongue to lick up your wetness. You could pass out right now if you had less self-control. Whimpers and moans left your lips, your hips naturally starting to grind against his nose, relieving the ache in your clit. You let him know what felt good by the tugs and yanks you put in his hair. He was a natural. Your guess about his tongue earlier was right too. “You taste so good, just as I imagined,” Zoro breathed onto your lips. You could tell he was starting to lose his composure with the way he continued to bury his face into your pussy. Your cunt naturally tightened around his tongue as he tasted you. Your hips began to buck into his face as your grinding pace increased, the butterflies turning into a white heat you felt getting stronger and stronger. Your bud was becoming more swollen by the second. Your grip on his hair tightened to make up for your failing knees. 

You wouldn’t be able to take much more. Zoro wouldn’t either, his hand making its way into his pants to relieve his own bulge. His pace got faster to match your grinds. The smack of your lips against his tongue, mixed with both of your moans, was pornographically loud. Suddenly, the situation of Robin or another crew member hearing became an apparent one to you. That worry quickly left your mind once one of Zoro’s hands made its way to fondle your nipple. If he asked you to follow him anywhere right now, you might just do it if it meant this every other night. You felt he knew your body better than you did. “So pretty. So good for me. You make this so easy,” Zoro groaned between licks. “Zoro god fuck me please!” Your final whimper sent you over the edge as you wailed and came all over his perfect face. He licked up your juices as he finished his own job as well. Your knees finally gave out as you fell on top of him, into his arms.

He brought you down gently, straddling you on his lap as you wrapped your arms around him. He traced his cum soaked hand across your back and kissed your nape. You were more exhausted than expected, almost passing out in the crook of his neck. Even now, he was so gentle with you. “You did so good, darling,” he praised, kissing your earlobe. “Want…more…want you…inside me,” you managed to get out. He just laughed and pushed you up to look at you. “If you took me right now, I don’t think you’d wake up tomorrow morning. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open, sweetheart,” he teased. You pouted. “Oh, you feel that proud of yourself?” your drunkenness fueling your frustration. “No no no, sweetheart,” he chuckled. Once your frown didn’t change, he stopped laughing and pressed a kiss deep into your forehead. “I’m sorry. What I meant was, if I fucked you with everything I have left right now, which is the only way I would want to do it, this floor would leave us with sore backs for weeks.” You stayed frowning. “I want to fuck you right, the way you deserve. And I can’t do it for you right now.” You pouted more at him. He smiled up at you and leaned in closer to your ear. “If you trust me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be walking funny for weeks.” God, you almost came again just now. You didn’t notice how much your jaw dropped until Zoro laughed at you. You couldn’t help but laugh back in tune with his infectious laughter. 

He kissed you with a fever behind his lips, then scanned the room around the two of you. “What’s wrong?” you drowsily asked. The exhaustion from you coming, the sleepiness brought by the alcohol, and how late it was getting was starting to overpower you. Zoro didn’t respond. He just grabbed your swimsuit and helped you put it back on, tightened your legs around his hips, and hoisted you up as he stood. You decided to ask questions once you had a clearer idea of what was happening. He opened the door and walked with you down the hallway, passing the girl’s quarters and into the men’s room. He checked inside quickly before bringing you in and signaling you to bring your legs down. You confusedly followed him to his bed as he groaned, rubbed his back, and sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Wanna explain to me what you’re doing?” you asked, slightly more awake. “If you think I’m just gonna leave you to sleep alone, tied up, on that dirty floor after what we just did, then you must think I’m a really shitty guy,” Zoro quipped before getting under the covers and trying to pull you down. You put some resistance towards him though. 

“B-but Zoro, I’m not supposed to be in here.”

“I know.”

“If someone catches me in here we’re both fucked.”

“They won’t catch you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ll wake up before Robin starts her shift.”

“Are you sure, I mean I just don’t kn-.”

“Hey.”

You stop your nervous rabbling and look at him as he sits back up. “Do you want to go back and sleep on the cold, dirty, hard floor?” You really didn’t. “No.” “Then stay here with me.” “But what if-.” “Do you trust me?”

You sure hope you did after all of that. His kind eyes reassured you in the darkness surrounding the two of you. You took a deep breath and nodded. “Do you trust me?” he asked again. “I trust you, Zoro,” you confirmed. He smiled kindly at you. “You’re fine. We’re gonna be fine.” He steadied you by placing his hands on your hips, running his hands along your waist, and pressing his lips into your tummy. You loved the way he looked at you. Like you were his whole world. It was comforting.

He took your hand and helped you into bed. You bundled yourself under the covers and wrapped yourself around his frame. He kissed your temples one more time before slipping into sleep, his light snores hypnotizing you into a slumber of your own.

The last thing you remember before dozing off was the feeling of his hands on your waist.

Everything you wanted was right here. In front of you. Straight out of a dream. Your only fear was that it would be gone once you woke up.

a/n: THIS TOOK FOREVER GOOD LORD. anyways thanks for being here for my comeback era lol. my upload schedule is NOT going to be consistent this is just a little splurge i wanted to write lol. thank you for reading i really appreciate it (i also really appreciate engagement lol please like repost comment etc im greedy). i love one piece and i love zoro. once i meet law expect all hell to break loose im gonna write so much fanfiction about him its concerning hes so fine im so excited. anyways lol thanks love you bye.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #one piece zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #x reader #zoro x reader

[fe-fictions]

Dimitri with a pregnant Byleth who's feeling super clingy 🥺 like, notices as soon as he gets up from bed, wants to cuddle with him even when they're seated for dinner, always clinging onto his arm when they walk 🥰 she just love husband...

(This was such a cute one!! I had to write it as quick as possible ;;;)

He was starting to notice a strange pattern in the days since you announced your pregnancy. You were still as quiet, calm and reserved as ever, but something notable had changed.

You did not seem capable of leaving his side. 

Dimtri would wake up before dawn, always careful not to rouse you since your day would always start a little later than his. But even in his stealthy attempts to ease from the bed, your arms would wrap around his waist and prevent him from moving any further.

“Must you go so early…?” You mumbled into his nightshirt, nuzzling into his back. Dimitri blushed, startled by the sudden onslaught of affection so early in the morning. But he nodded and smiled softly, covering your hands with his.

“I wish I could stay with you, Beloved. But I cannot; I must maintain my strict schedule, at least for today.”

“Can you alter it later so that you can spend a little more time with me?”

“Do you feel I spend an inadequate amount of time with you?” He paused, turning to look back at you when you slowly slipped away.

Your expression was unreadable, but if he didn’t know any better…there was a pout on you rlips.

“I…just want to spend more time with you.” You managed to mumble,. It took all of Dimitri’s will not to give in and stay right then and there.

“I shall make the neessary arrangements so that we can have more time togehter, than apart. I know we both have unforgiving schedules, but given the current circumstance, I’m sure we can convince our handlers to be a little generous.”

“I would like that,” You smiled up at him, taking Dimitri’s hands into yours. “Will you come back once you finish training?”

“I shall return just as you awaken, again.” He promised, “So please, rest easy. Your body needs it.” He kissed you then, soft and swe. He couldn’t help it; you were positively adorablke!

But sure enough, the cuteness wouldn’t end there.

No, ever since the pregnancy rstarted to become more and more visible, you were spending more and more time with him.

If Dimitri had a meeting, you were present. If he needed to be somewhere for some inane thing in the village, you would acaccompany despite Seteth’s many protests.

In the mess hall, your hand was squeezing his tightly below the table; and on your walks in the gardens and hte courtyard o the monastery, you were resting your head on his arm, your own wrapped tight around his bicep.

It seemed impossible for you to detach from your husband.

Dimitri wasn’t the only one who noticed, of course; the other Lions had started to see it, too. Sylvain was the first one brave enough to mention it, once the king escorted the Bishop-Queen from their counsel meeting for some much-needed bed rest.

“Soo…the Professor seems to be in a strange mood, lately.”

“Well, she’s starting to really show now, isn’t she? It must be the pregnancy that’s affecting her behavior.” Annette figured, watching as the happy couple continued on their diwb tge cirridor. ‘I know tha tpregnancy hormones can have a big impact on having a child. Maybe Byleth becoming more adorable is part of that!”

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird? I don’t think I’ve seen them so much as hold hands in the last two years.” Sylvain insisted. Mercedes simply shrugged, a warm smile on her lips.

“It might be any number of things. Pregnancy hormones have a notable impact on the body and mind; not to mention that she may feel insecure undergoing susch a serious life change. Can you imagine what it must feel like, to go from being an independent mercenary to the queen of a country, and archbishop of a continent. An dnow, she’s an expecting mother, too?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Sylvain sighed, “No wonder she’s feeling a little clingy.”

“You’re just jealous she’s not snuggling with you.” Ingrid rolled her eyes, “Now enough chittering about the Professor. The least we can do is afford them some grace and respect while they navigate this….new dynamic.”

“So considerate of you, Ingrid,” Annette giggled, garnering a soft blush from the knight.

I the maentime, Dimitri was practically floating in the air, his arm was linked with yours, your head rested on his shoulder, and you were enjoying the sights and sounds of the monastery courtyard in the blissful glow of sunset.

It was like a dream.

“How are you feeling, BeloveD?” He asked in that gentle, warm voice that made you feel soft and safe.

You nodded, resting a hand on your baby bump.

“I feel a little bit hungry, but…I don’t want to move from this spot for a while. It’s beautiful.”

“Shall I go and fetch you something from the mess hall? You needn’t lt yourself be hungry just to satisfy stay in my company. I’d rather you feel full than otherwise while you’re still going through changes.”

“I’m only a little hungry.” You insisted, “Nothing to worry over. I just want to stay with you a while…then we can go eat.”

“Very well. If that is what you wish.” He kissed the top of your head, prompting you to snuggle closer to him. The slight chill in the air nipped at your noses. He draped his cape over your shoulders, drawing you into him as much as possible.

“Please tell me if it’s too cold. We will go inside right away.”

“And risk losing thi stime together? Not a chance.” You shoook your head, “If we go back inside, someone will snatch hyou away for some important thing. I want to stay here as long as possible.”

“You know…I can order them away if they’re truly too demanding of my time, dearest.” Dimitri offered, but you shook your head.

“No…because then it’d seem like you’re shirking your duties. Social convention is so exhausting.” You huffed, making him chuckle.

“Is that why you’ve been staying so close? To try and balance the expectation of being a prominent figure with wanting to be with me?”

“Perhaps. I just…miss you. I wish we could spend time like this together, always. Especially with the baby on the way.” you added, looking down at your belly.

Dimitri looked at you fully, finding the slightest pout on your lips.

“My love?”

“I just…I just want to be a husband and wife for a moment. A little family; no titles or expectations or…anybody else. Just us. Is that selfish?”

“I suppose when you consider our positions, it’s difficult to be selfish. I do not fault you for wishing to be a little indulgent right now.” 

You sighed heavily, “It’s going to get worse once the baby is here. We’ll have to divide our time even further, betwen our duties, each other, and the child.”

“We will make time.” He assured you, tightening the cape around you when another chill blew through the garden. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to raise the baby without being present. My father was always there…I feel it would be wrong not to do the same for my child.”

“It will be a challenge.” He murmured, “And I worry I may not be as capable a parent as your father was. But it is a challenge we will face together…which I believe we will be able to overcome.”

“Really?” You looked up at him so hopefully, it made his heart skip a beat. He beamed at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Of course. I will have to convince some royal council members, and I’m sure the Prime Minister will have some thoughts on the matter.” Dimitri thought aloud, already anticipating Seteth’s displeasure at the thought of the Archbishop spending less time doing her duties.

“So long as we can spend as much time as possible with them…that’s what I want. I want to be with you.” 

His gaze softened at your quiet confession. You were so terribly lovely. How he was able to find his way into your heart would forever elude him.

He cupped your face tenderly, unabel to resist kissing you fully and sweetly.

“I wish to spend every second with you as well, Beloved. And once our child is born, I will feel the very same about them.”

“I’m glad.” You smiled, squeezing his hands when they fell from your cheeks. “Until then, will you…keep indulging me?” 

He laughed, drawing you back into his warm embrace. 

“I shall not leave your side until you cannot stand me any longer! I promise.” 

The two of you remained in the courtyard a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms and relishing the soft moment as a precious memory.

At least until your stomach growled…then Dimitri gladly escorted you to the mess hall (where you held hands the entire time, much to the chagrin of Felix, who had to sit next to you).

#byleth #dimitri #fe3h #fe three houses #fe 16 #fire emblem three houses #dimileth #dimitri x byleth #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!byleth #fem!byleth #f!mu #fluff #pregnancy fluff #needy byleth is just so adorable ok #she just needs to be protected at all times #which dima will do without hesitation

[frasermints]

Hey! The vast majority of non voters are people who are in such maligned, marginalized circumstances that voting has never materially benefitted them ever, but you've never given a shit about their circumstances because you're in a position where voting DOES effect you, and THAT is your privilege!

You calling the poorest, most disabled, most violently oppressed people in the US "at fault" for the political crisis for not voting is actually you being a disgusting classist racist! And also politically illiterate in what a normal voter turnout is under democracy. Genuinely hope you learn to extend empathy to people who've never felt any ounce of political power in their life and RIGHTLY so not trust the system to advocate for them, you vile piece of shit 👍

hey, listen. i know you're angry and probably very very young and likely wouldn't be able to sniff out a case of "not for you, rabbit ears" if it were staring you in the face. but voting does actually materially benefit you, always.

i understand recency bias has influenced a good majority of y'all that have just become eligible or just started to pay attention to ampol in a serious way either since oct 7 or since mid 2023 when campaigning started up again. but it shows your lack of attention, insight, and political knowledge to say that voting does not benefit people that are marginalized. especially voting in us elections.

i am one of those people. i grew up on SNAP and WIC and independently still qualify for SNAP. the only reason i am not on SNAP is because i live with my mother and washington state considers me a dependent with combined income. i have been multiply disabled for my entire life and have more medical debt than you can fathom. i am not white. i am visibly transgender. all of these things impact my ability to vote in person. but you didn't consider any of these things before you sent this, did you?

i also should not have to qualify these things when i make the point to stir and promote political engagement. the only point where i politically have a leg up is that i vote absentee, because my state has mail in ballots by default, and it's somewhat easy to register in washington state. that's it. that's the only part of this where i have it easier.

we all benefit from political engagement. voting is the most crucial part of political engagement. protesting is useless when it is illegal. writing to your representatives is useless when your representatives are fascists. sending money overseas is useless when you are legally no longer allowed to have a job or a bank account. making ragebait posts on twitter and resharing infographics on your insta stories does fuckall when you live in a country ruled by an 80 year old nazi. but you, hiding behind those cute anonymous sunglasses enjoying your time on the internet like the nineteen year old jobless nobody like you are, don't understand that. because you're angry, and you're taking that anger out on someone that is also angry instead of directing it somewhere productive. and here i am doing the same because of it. but i'm also gonna give you some fucking information at the same time. because you wasted my morning sending this to me.

project 2025 is going to happen if we do not vote blue across the board and at that point you will literally not be allowed any form of political engagement. life will be worse for you than it already is now.

also, just because "normal" during a midterm means "less than during the primaries and generals", doesn't mean the turnout we have during the primaries and generals is something good or something to strive for. we need to be better than that if we actually want to move past the stale fucking 80 year old center right democrats we currently have speaking for us. we need to aim for 100% voter turnout. i will not settle for less.

there are also plenty of things elected democrats have done that have materially benefited us. plenty of things the Biden Administration has done! but again none of you fucks are paying attention!

inflation reduction act and medicare - access to prescriptions for disabled people, highlighting insulin caps and the ability to negotiate even lower. we are paying significantly less than we were before this legislation was signed.

bipartisan infrastructure law - specific provisions for women and minority owned businesses, public transport, fish and wildlife, indigenous land.

bipartisan safer communities act - gun control legislation, expanding access to telehealth under medicaid and CHIP, expanding the medicaid and CHIP networks, allows NICS to look into potentially disqualifying juvenile records and closes the "boyfriend loophole", provides multiple grants for multiple mental health services.

respect for marriage act - defines marriage as any valid legal union between two people and

DEA rescheduling of cannabis - oct 2022 biden asked the DEA to consider rescheduling cannabis. reschedulings are rarely denied - deschedulings are rarely approved. this will almost guaranteed happen.

electoral count act reform (2) - makes it exceedingly difficult for another january sixth to happen

local democrats also codified abortion access and protections in michigan, ohio, and washington. local republicans have been a nightmare for it in florida and arizona. dook at what julie mccluskie has done for colorado.

and again, with resources like how to vote in every state, the excuse of "i can't" is lazy as hell at this point. people can literally show up at your door and help you fill out an absentee ballot or get to a polling station to vote curbside, people are allowed at the voting booth to help you with a language barrier or processing issue if you need it.

but. like i said. continue to be angry. continue to rage in my inbox, behind your anonymous sunglasses. continue to be disengaged. and then be all fucking shocked pikachu face when trump and the like-minded GOP get voted in, and everyone in southwest asia gets bombed to shit, and every queer USian gets legislated out of existence, and every latino not born here gets deported. continue to make this a me issue, and not a disengaged voter bloc issue. because this is all about me, someone that has voted in every single election since august 2018, and totally not about the youth vote that has notoriously been disengaged and fucking useless in american politics. sure babe.

#anonymous #asks #answered #ampol #american politics #long post #i was drafting more of this in the car but i forgot a lot of it tbh #anyway #i'm so mad lol

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Dark out, I’m cloistered inside where it’s warm because I’m built for triple digit temps and we have snow. Perfect circumstances for a little Late-Night Togashiposting! How could I muse on Oda’s relation to such an influence starting from Okiku and not delve into Hunter x Hunter’s biggest sweetiebaby? Introduced here in one of my favorite panels in the entire series. All that buildup about this horrific, otherworldly monster...then boom. Cute little muffin and all her stuffies. Cracks me up everytime. 

Clever introduction too. Symbolically looking like one of the dolls as a reflection of how her family sees her. Excellent contrast with the cutie that perks up when she sees big brother Kil. The idea of “something from afar” as a motif for a trans character given all too often we see Japanese hatemongers writing off queer identities as unsavory Western influence. Not to mention laying seeds for the Dark Continent down the line. Good stuff.

It shouldn’t be hard to guess why I might want to look at Alluka Zoldyck and Okiku side-by-side. We dipped a toe, but they deserve more. They deserve everything. If nothing else we have two high-profile trans characters slipped into some of the biggest ongoing series in Weekly Shonen Jump. They were both very prevalent in their arcs and served as a pillar of the core themes. We have some easy shared territory like exploring them through a sibling bond and this core element of duality. That’s barely scratching the surface though.

First, what we won’t do here. I’m not even going to try and judge which of these two is most baby. They’re both sweetie muffins, they’re both perfect, neither has done a single wrong thing in their lives. I want both as a little sister. Existing in the same series would spark a religion that finally establishes world peace. Eat your heart out Prince Tyson.

The angle I want to approach this from...ever seen much of the correspondence between JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis? It’s honestly as interesting as Narnia or Lord of the Rings. A masterclass on the philosophy of fiction. That’s how I look at these two. Dead serious. And I have for a long time, even before Oda’s glowing statements for Togashi’s exhibition. Looking at the landscape now though, these two are contemporaries even if Togashi’s the senior on paper. Because of his frequent breaks, One Piece has published more chapters than the elder’s three main series combined.

Stands to reason if an author wanted to do a big trans character they’d look at others in the genre. If I was doing so in 2018, Alluka would be a first thought. Hell, Punk Hazard is getting started right as the 13th Chairman Election is concluding. Especially since there’s potentially a similar dynamic getting from Miyuki in Yu Yu Hakusho to Rurouni Kenshin’s Kamatari. The latter pair were part of a big trend of similar characters, WSJ’s answer to a largely shoujo phenomenon. Which tracks with Japanese politics at the time as well as hitting the point new authors who grew up at the height of Stop!! Hibari-Kun’s popularity were coming onto the scene. 

Let’s start somewhere easy for the compare/contrast. Both of these little angels have a core relationship with a big brother we already knew by the time we meet them. I’m not going to say one is better, but I like One Piece’s take more and it plays into a way One Piece distinguishes itself from Shonen contemporaries including HxH. Alluka is wonderful, a great story that makes excellent use of the trans aspect as a parallel to the events going on. Much like we’ve said a lot about Kiku. Still...at the end of the day she’s an accessory to the 2nd most important character in the series. It’s about Killua being a good brother first and foremost. Trying to teach the main audience how to respect someone different. Likewise with the trans aspect just being handed to you up front. For all the ways HxH subverts common tropes, even with Alluka, letting Kiku lead her own story is awesome. Doing in a way that couches her in themes most women could relate to even better. You almost never get that and definitely not in something so mainstream. 

Why? Because it frees her from having to do as many beats about figuring her out. Killua is a nice evolution, being the one who gets his little sister compared to the rest of the family, but Kiku gets to just be her. None of her story is about being alien to begin with. It isn’t really that hard of a concept, getting to One Piece in general. Hunter x Hunter is subversive in many ways, I’d call it the more mature of the two series in terms of content...but it’s still at heart a “coming of age” story. One Piece isn’t. It’s a young man’s odyssey. That’s why we meet Koby in Romance Dawn. Why we don’t spend East Blue bumbling along as an apprentice. To show Luffy is past that kind of motivation and already the type of figure who can inspire others like Shanks did for him.

That same ethos is all over, and for Kiku it ends up being this awesome manifestation. Seriously...how many trans stories have you seen that aren’t about “finding your true self” or something like that? I’d call hers a step that can only happen past that; someone who has done that grappling with the past catching up to you. An adult who has found her own strength tested with regression, the danger of “becoming the mask” again. It’s Yamato and even Sanji who have more common beats you’d see for a trans narrative. Not trying to twist the knife...but that’s why I knew the former wouldn’t be tagging along at the end. Fans ended up telling on him; so much of the appeal was in “seeing him grow.” Great for most Shonen, not so much for One Piece.

Hmm...this is getting pretty long already. Oh darn, guess that means we have more LNTPs to come. I’ll leave you with this fun thought for now. Just consider the timing. Maybe it’s all one big coincidence. But like I said, Punk Hazard starts as Alluka’s arc is wrapping up. We were laying seeds that would matter for Kiku right from meeting Kin’emon. That’s not all though. Just...find it interesting where Togashi’s huge hiatus lines up with One Piece. Last chapter before released concurrently with the beginning of Act 2, Hiatus ends concurrently with Blackbeard showing up again. From one actress with him (Catarina) to another (Pudding). Is it a bit crazy to speculate on two authors collaborating on something funky? Hell yes, massive reach. But if any two would...

#one piece #hunter x hunter #okiku #alluka zoldyck #eiichiro oda #yoshihiro togashi #late night togashiposting

[libbymonroerandomthings]

The Jasmine Throne (Book 1 of The Burning Kingdoms)

Just finished reading ‘The Jasmine Throne’ by Tasha Suri! (11/26/2022)

This book was monstrously amazing in my eyes. It took me a few chapters to actually get into it but once I did, I was immersed and couldn’t put the book down. I’m a lover of fantasy books and also wanted something very sapphic and was guided to this book and let just say, it did not disappoint.

The book follows multiple POVs but the main two are Malini and Priya. Malini is the princess to the Parijat, sister to the emperor, and a traitor who is exiled and imprisoned. Priya is a maidservants, who tries to not be seen, has a tragic past and a large secret. Both have a connected through loved ones dying in fire. For Priya it was her temple siblings and Malini her ‘heart’ sister/ ladies in waiting. The other POVs are Bhumika, Ashok, who are the only surviving temple siblings of Priya, and Rao who is a prince allied with Malini. It’s not easy writing multiple POVs but Suri did an incredible job. None of them were boring, they connected everyone together and gave you the much needed individual depth & intimate moments of each character. You can easily see how each one traumas shapes who they are. From Priya’s soft heart and ability to still love, Malini cunning ability to use and manipulate any and everyone for her own gains and not feeling guilty. Bhumika who is wise, a mother to be, and someone in my eyes, who didn’t do enough to protect her siblings and now makes it her duty to protect everyone of Ahiranya. Ashok who believes the only way to rebuild what was taken is to burn and/or kill everything that stands in their way. Rao who was given his fate at birth and has to walk that journey alone until the right time to reveal all. As I said, Suri writing is compelling and fascinating, and does not disappoint. I loved so much about this book.

Spoiler warning!!!! I heard about this cute little Waterfall scene before I read the book, and let’s just say it was worth all the hype. My Queer little heart bursted with joy. Malini and Priya dynamic is something I will obsess over for a while. The tenderness and fierceness of it!

“There are other versions of you that I don’t know. But this one…” Her fingers were against Malini’s lips. “This one is mine.” 🥹

5/5 ⭐️ from me. Anyone who loves Sapphic Books or just good fantasy books with strong female leads should read.

The Oleander Sword (Book 2 of The Burning Kingdoms)

Just finished The Oleander Sword today (Dec. 3rd 2022) and sheesh, this book broke me. My emotional are all over the place lol. All I can say is WTF!

I think I enjoyed this book a lot more then The Jasmine Throne, but isn’t that how series work, each book being better then the last. In my opinion it had a smig faster pace compared to TJT. It’s definitely a middle, set up book but still extremely satisfying and compelling. It dives deeper into faith, war, politicking, trust, and everything else that was started in book 1. I enjoyed and am very scared of the Magical system and yaksa the was shown in this book.

The thing I found the most interesting was Bhumika. Her POVs and storyline in Ahiranya this book was… a lot. I was hungry for more of her POVs then anybody else. My good Sis was stressed to the max the entire time. Good thing she has Jeevan. I enjoyed all the characters. we got to know more about Rao and Aditya and get into more of their friendship and dynamic. We got to see more of Prince Chandra. More morally grey choices both Malini and Priya have to make.

The Romance. The Oleander Sword slaps you with romance between Priya and Malini and I loved it all. Their dynamic is amazing and tender. Suri writes it were it doesn’t feel like she’s going out of her way to create romance between them, it’s just so natural feeling. The vulnerability, the emotions, the desire and need both Priya and Malini have in this relationship is *french Kiss* everything. You are rooting for a relationship you know deep down won’t work in their political circumstances. Chapter 41…. All I can say is thank you, Tasha Suri.

“Let me show you how to break me” -Priya

And now that I’ve thanked you, Suri, I want to cuss you out in the same breath for the emotional turmoil the ending put me through (and everyone who read this book).

Once again 5/5 ⭐️. Suri has created something special with The Jasmine Throne and The Oleander Sword and I can’t wait to read book 3 of The Burning Kingdom.

Btw my favorite line in the book is by Rao, ‘What is a star, he thought, in Aditya’s slurred, smiling voice, but a distant fire, reaching for you across across worlds?“.

*spoiler* for everyone who read the book, is Rao in love with Aditya?

#the jasmine throne #the oleander sword #tasha suri #priya x malini #bhumika #sapphic #wlw books #book blog #book review

[kirishwima]

Don’t worry about us, please try not to stress out. I am only sending in this request merely due to it not leaving me alone. RFA+V, Unknown (cannot remember how to spell his name) reactions to MC in their wedding dress, what type of wedding will they have? Please do not mind and please study wisely.

ahh this is a cute and light-hearted idea :’) You speak of a wedding dress but refer to MC as they/them, so I’ll be writing for them as non-binary! 

I’ll also add photos of what I think their wedding dress/suit would be bc....I have to, and because I have a whole pinterest board of wedding dresses saved from last summer when I was helping my sister plan her wedding orz :’)

YOOSUNG:

* When speaking of weddings, Yoosung’s always imagined the beautiful classics; standing at the altar, seeing the love of his life walk down the aisle dressed in the most gorgeous gown, his smile broadening at the sight of them.

* He himself wore a humble black suit, but with a baby blue bow-tie; reminiscing of his own innocence.

* He absoloutely had Zen help him pick out his suit; they took Seven along too but he kept insisting Yoosung should just wear a onesie instead lmao

* He did discuss with MC what they’d like to wear; when they said they wanted to wear a dress, he immediatly thought of classic puffy white dresses with lace and toule. 

* Seeing MC walk towards him though, he couldn’t help how his jaw hung open, how his eyes widened. “Lucky you”, he heard Seven whisper, standing besides him as his best man. 

* MC was like a princess, and he, their soon-to be prince. He took their hand as they reached the altar, kissing their knuckles with a wide smile. He’d ditched his glasses for the wedding, finally able to see better with the help of surgery, and he blessed each of his doctors for being able to witness the sight that was MC.

*Overall he’s just a tearful happy nugget, and 10/10 will choke with tears whilst saying his vows

ZEN:

* Despite what you may be thinking, he actually doesn’t dream of big fancy weddings and expensive venues. His ideal wedding would be something simple; a gathering of friends and loved ones, perhaps even by the beach, being able to stand besides the one he loves comfortably and proudly.

* He’s glad that he and MC are on the same page about that; even if he’s a celebrity, his humble approach to life never changed, and he wants their wedding to reflect that. So a wedding by the beach it is!

* It’s Zen we’re talking about, so even a potato sack would look flattering on him, so his choice of suits is endless. He’s classy but doesn’t like the plain old black suit, so instead he goes for something more summery, given their venue. 

* I can really imagine him in a linen suit, ditching the tie for a more laid-back look, his hair tied into an intricate braid, even wearing one or two little white flowers at its end.

* He’d be just as awe-struck with how MC looks no matter what they’d wear, suit or dress, casual or formal. He’ll love them just as much if he sees them every morning in their pyjamas and bed hair, or in a gown and heels. 

* Simple and elegant, and nicer than the summer breeze blowing through Zen’s hair, he had to bite his lip, blinking back tears threatening to fall at the thought he’s about to spend the rest of his life with his beloved. (Also he has to fight the Beast until later tonight and hoo boy is that a hassle or WHAT)

* All in all-he’s one happy hecking groom, and he can’t wait to tear that dress off of them the moment they’re in their private quarters lol

JAEHEE:

* Honestly...she didn’t see the point of holding a wedding at first. Did she fantasize about it as a little girl? Sure, she did. But as she got older and the thought of dating and family got further and further away from her, that childhood dream was put aside, stored in the repressed part of her brain.

* It’d been MC who proposed, and MC who began the planning for the wedding-they didn’t want Jaehee to feel burdened with organizing, but the more Jaehee worked to plan their wedding, the more she fell in love with the idea of this special day just for the two of them, and the more she fell in love with MC, seeing their hard work and adoration towards her.

* They didn’t want to have an all-out wedding like many couples do; just them, their families and the RFA, a little get together to celebrate a milestep of their life together. 

* They had arrived at the dillema of; will we both wear suits? Dresses? Should one of us wear a suit and the other a dress? In the ned MC suggested they each decide on a look without telling the other, so it’ll be just as much of a surprise for each of them to see the other on their wedding day!

* Jaehee is a practical woman, yes, but we know that she’s not the strict short-haired lady she was whilst working with Jumin-she allows herself to explore femiminity more and more in her route, and I feel that’d be evident in her choice of a wedding gown-simple, yet elegant and chic.

* With her hair in a gorgeous loose bun, flowers adorning her head, her ring-finger soon to be decorated with a delicate ring she and MC chose together-she almost can’t believe the person looking back at her in the mirror is herself.

* Less so can she believe that the person she’s about to marry is soon walking towards her, a smile on their face as if they’re the lucky one to be marrying Jaehee when Jaehee stares wide-eyed at the beautiful person she’s eagerly waiting to spend the rest of her life with;

* Of course they’d choose a dress with pockets, she thinks with a roll of her eyes, if only to tease Jaehee about her own lack of pockets later on. 

* They both can’t help but stare at each other as they meet at the altar, wide eyed with incredulous smiles. The preacher even has to cough politely to get their attention back to well, their wedding lmao

* It’s everything Jaehee could’ve wanted and then some.

JUMIN:

* Yeah yeah, it’s Jumin Han, the handsome man in a suit, and yeah he’s gonna have an all-out wedding alright-but only if that’s what MC wants. 

* He honestly...doesn’t care what the ceremony will be like, who will be there or what they’ll say. He only cares about seeing MC’s ring finger adorned with a rind that has his surname engraved in it, a mark on them that says MC’s his, his and no one elses.

* Even if he wears suits on the daily, his wedding is no exception; he’ll wear a suit tialored to perfection, classic black and sleek, matching his raven-dark hair, slicked back for the occasion-he’d go to the ceremony in his pyjamas if he had to, so long as he’s able to call MC his spouse once the day’s over.

* He had given MC the absoloute liberty of choosing what to wear, with the only condition being they have the best tailors across the world work on their outfit, wanting it to be as unique and wonderful as MC themself. 

* It was jarring at first, to have 5 or 6 professionals tug and probe at MC whilst working on their measurements and meeting up to discuss their style, but they figure that’s just how life with Jumin as their husband will be-extreme, sometimes awkward, but full of love and care; they could see it in his smile when they came home from their fitting, tired but happy as they snuggled up in his arms, him stroking their hair until they fell asleep.

* It’s hard to find a dress picture that I feel captures what MC’s dress would be, but I think the closest to it would be something like this;

* “The most befitting dress for royal beauty such as yours”, Jumin whispers to MC’s ear as they approach him at the altar, his smile small and private, for MC’s eyes only.

* Yet as he leans down to kiss them, completely ignoring the preacher waiting to start the ceremony, he whispers on their lips ‘I love you’, and MC knows from the bottom of their soul, that no matter what they wore, how they looked, Jumin would love them just as much. And they’re forevel grateful for that.

* p.s: Elizabeth the 3d is ABSOLOUTELY going to be the ring bearer, and she’ll have her own little dress appropriate for the occasion, fight me on this.

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* Y’all....tease him about the ‘let’s get married at the space station’ bit all you want, but this boy DREAMS of a wedding, a family and happy life for so long, you can never convince me he doesn’t go all out for his wedding.

* A beautiful, flower-covered venue? Check. Tailored, custom-made suit? Check. Planning everything to the most minute detail? YES. He’ll run himself dry working on creating the perfect wedding, it’ll take some convincing from MC to tone it down lmao.

* He’ll still insist on inviting absurd guests just like he did with the RFA parties, but in all honesty, he just wants MC besides him, Saeran and Yoosung next to him as hie best men (yes he can have both of them shush), the rest of the RFA there to congratulate him and MC on their special day; the people he loves, to celebrate the day of uniting with his one true love, that’s all Saeyoung wants.

* To be able to say ‘I love you MC’, and to have MC tell him ‘I love you, Saeyoung’-to formally and completely leave the life of 707 behind, to have his brother hug him, congratulate him on his wedding-this is all more than enough to make Saeyoung cry happy tears, pushing his palms on his eyes as he laughs and cries at the same time, letting MC hug him to help him calm down.

* While he does dream of a classic classy wedding, he loves the colour red a little too much, so he’d try and sneak it in there, be it in a vest or bow tie lol (he’d absoloutely wear a bow tie instead of a tie, and he’d be allowed one (1) doctor who joke for the duration of the ceremony lmao)

* ((also....not relevant to the wedding itself, but his marriage proposal would absoloutely be at a planetarium, js))

* As for MC...they’d spent nights on the couch together, eating chips and wondering what they’d each wear on the day of their wedding. They ended up taking Jaehee and some more of their friends with them when looking for a dress, as much as Saeyoung pouted and asked to tag along.

* It was worth it to keep him in the dark though; his big wide eyes as MC walked towards him, how he had to bite his lip to stop giggling like a fool, he was jumping up and down at the altar, giggling behind his hands as he mumbled ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god allah and buddha!’. 

* “Holy shit” he whispered to himself, earning a stern gaze from the preacher, his brother groaning in the background. MC took it as a compliment though, smiling up at him as they stood across him.

* This boy....will cry real ugly snort filled tears at his wedding vows, I guarantee it.

V/JIHYUN:

* BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING BOHO WEDDING

* Like hello??? Have you seen this hippie-ass man at the end of his route?? He’ll be so happy with a marriage ceremony in the forest, in a little church that looks almost abandoned in its little spot at the edge of the woods, in a little city no one knew before V brought it up.

* He’d love to help decorate and renovate the church for their wedding, using funds taken from a painting collection he did featuring the very forest the church sits besides. 

* (I can also totally picture their wedding taking place in a botanical garden/greenhouse, if you’d rather skip the church option! Just surrounded by plants and nature :D)

* Even if it’s not a boho wedding though-just being able to spend the rest of his life besides MC, the person that truly taught him what love is, that’s all handsome mint boy needs.

* Honestly...he’s extra enough to be the kind of guy that ditches the shirt, so I can imagine him wearing something like the following, but in a darker colour; 

* As for MC....yeah I’m gonna add my personal favorite here bc bOHO WEDDING DRESSES ARE GORGEOUS AND MC WOULD LOOK LIKE A FAE APPEARING THROUGH THE WOODS AND JIHYUN WOULD ABSOLOUTELY GASP AT THE SIGHT OF THEM, WIPING AWAY A STRAY TEAR AS HE KISSES THEIR FOREHEAD WHEN THEY REACH HIM AT THE ALTAR, SAYING A QUIET ‘THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU’ ONLY MC CAN HEAR.

((something with a little simpler bust, but the puffy sleeves,,,flowy dress,,,the line cut that’s honestly so charming on any figure,,,fight me this is the cutest kind of dress))

UNKNOWN/SAERAN:

* He’d really want a small, closed wedding just for him, MC, and the RFA sure, why not (he’s kidding, he’s grown really fond of them all but he refuses to openly admit it)

* If MC suggests they hold their ceremony at a greenhouse he’ll be over the moon; he’ll personally visit the greenhouse and make sure all the flowers are in tip top condition for their wedding.

* For his own suit, he’d like to keep things simple, maybe even ditching the whole suit and tie thing; 

* I really imagine him with a suit similar to this, but ditching the vest , with flowers pinned to his blazer that he looks fondly at, knowing MC will be holding a bouquet just like these, ones he himself picked out with all his love and care, removing each thorn to make sure nothing can harm their hands as they hold the bouquet.

* As MC walks towards him through the greenhouse his breath shudders, any words he may have had dying in his throat; MC looks ethereally beautiful and he’s out of words as they come to stand in front of him, his lips trembling.

* Is this person really his? The one he’ll be able to hold, to love for as long as he lives? He shakingly takes MC’s hand in his, giving them a tight squeeze as he smiles.

* “In sickness and in health” he whispers, smiles as MC says it back.

* In sickness and in health.

-Send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions-

#this honestly took way more time than it'd take to make a usual headcanon post #bc i took so much time looking for photos orz #still this was cute and easy to write given my circumstances #hope ya like it! #asks #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger prompts #mysme prompts #yoosung kim #hyun ryu #jumin han #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #jihyun kim #Anonymous

[mllekurtz]

I have been thinking about writing a cute, floaty Shadowgast first kiss since at least February, possibly even earlier than that, but it didn't fit in any of my WIPs. Then I realised that I could write it as a standalone, so here you go. Beta'ed by @dawl-and-dapple in trying circumstances; thanks for your service, friend 💜

*

Eventually, incredible as it sounds, there’s an after.

After all the adventuring, after saving the world, after figuring out how to ensure their safety and continued survival. There’s an after, and there’s a them.

Things are good. Maybe as good as they’ll ever be, definitely beyond Caleb’s wildest dreams. They are alive, and they are together, and they’ve had a Conversation, and for the next couple of weeks after that they just exist together. Somehow — and it’s not an easy feat — they manage to convince each other that they deserve a break.

So, not long after the Conversation, there’s a cottage on the Coast, which is more like a fancy shed, which leads Caleb to cast the Tower often. There are long, sleepy days, long, quiet nights, and long conversations that span them both; there are shared books and stories and knowledge.

And there’s Essek not exactly flinching every time Caleb touches him, but not not doing that either.

He always ends up leaning into Caleb’s hands, accepting his kisses on his knuckles, his cheek, the top of his head, but his pretty eyes are round as saucers and his posture reveals a clear attempt to smother his fight-or-flight instinct. And he never, ever initiates anything of the sort.

Caleb knows how foreign the concept of casual physical contact is to Essek. He knows because he says so in one of their convoluted conversations about personal boundaries.

“You know,” Caleb says as they’re finishing lunch, as casually as he can, “you don’t have to indulge me if you don’t want to.”

When Essek puts down his fork, the gesture is slow and deliberate. “I’m not indulging you,” he says quietly, looking at this plate, getting Caleb’s meaning at once. “And I appreciate your concern. I’m just… unaccustomed.”

He looks up at Caleb then, open and honest, and Caleb is reminded — not that he ever forgets it — that time works differently for him. That if he says he’s going to think about this for a while, his ‘while’ might very well encompass the rest of Caleb’s life. It’s just how it is.

“But I want to get accustomed,” Essek goes on, with an intensity that he doesn’t try to hide. He offers it to him, placing it between them like a gift. “Very much.”

In the silence that follows, Caleb takes in the set of his jaw, the straight line of his shoulders. When he holds his head high like this, Essek’s cheekbones look almost impossibly kissable. “Can I try something?”

Essek’s immediate, easy answer speaks of a trust that, once given, is unlikely to be taken back. “Of course.”

“Wait, I don’t have my components on me.” Caleb feels lilac eyes glued on him as he hurriedly folds his napkin and leaves it on the table.

When he comes back into the room, his padded paws don’t make any noise as he slinks up to Essek and deftly jumps in his lap.

The cat’s mind is simple but sharp. It doesn’t have a broad scope, but what it sees, it sees clearly. The desire to express affection to a beloved creature is easy to pursue and fulfill. The cat is satisfied when he rubs his cheeks on the underside of his beloved’s jaw, marking him with his scent, and he summons a loud rumble from his small, furry body when, after some forgivable tentativeness, careful hands start smoothing his fur.

It becomes a sort of habit. Essek is still second-guessing himself when it comes to touching human Caleb, even though now and then he’s the one to lean against Caleb while they’re sitting side by side, and his eyes are not enormous anymore when Caleb strokes his cheek. But pets and scratches come natural, almost automatic when Caleb turns into a cat. Even the small part of Caleb living in the cat’s consciousness enjoys them. It’s simple. Mindless. Pleasant.

It isn’t premeditated, but it’s also bound to happen. They’re in the Tower one night, on one of the library’s couches, with books, components, and writing supplies scattered around them. Caleb stretches and decides it’s time for a break.

His cat form shouldn’t be as tired as he feels, but evidently some of his exhaustion translates, because he falls asleep to gentle hands petting him.

And he wakes up to his hair being played with.

For a moment he’s not sure where he is or who’s holding him. Wispy tendrils of panic start to encircle him, when he hears Essek’s soft, soothing voice.

“Hello. You’re safe.”

The here and now start to assert themselves again, turning out to be ‘in Essek’s lap’ and ‘more than an hour after casting Polymorph on himself’ respectively. As soon as he realises it, Caleb feels his face flush. He must be crushing Essek, or making him uncomfortable; probably both.

He sits up, but he doesn’t go far, because the hand that isn't in his hair is pressed on his chest.

There’s no real force behind it, no dunamantic effect to keep him in place. It’s just touch.

Except there’s no ‘just touch’ when it’s Essek.

So Caleb stays where he is.

He keeps still as purple fingers leave his chest and reach up to Caleb’s cheek, lilac eyes following them with singular focus. They fly over Caleb’s brow, brushing across his forehead, his cheekbones, tracing the profile of his nose, pads catching on the stubble on his jaw. Caleb has always been half in love with the clockwork precision of Essek’s somatic gestures, and this feels no different than a carefully cast spell.

The moment holds its breath, suspended.

With calculated slowness, but not a mote of hesitation, Essek covers the distance between them. Caleb remembers to close his eyes moments before he feels Essek’s lips on his closed mouth, where they remain as his brain tries to catch up.

It’s a cliché, but Caleb’s stomach swoops. A sudden weightlessness settles in his guts, making him feel pleasantly light-headed.

Then something moves, and Caleb clutches Essek’s arms when he doesn’t feel the couch under him anymore. He pulls back, trying to angle himself so he hits the floor first.

No, they’re not on the couch anymore, but they’re not about to fall unceremoniously on the ground either.

They’re hovering. Books and components float out of the corner of Caleb’s eye, but he doesn’t look away from Essek, who looks utterly absorbed, and a little bit like someone who’s just been hit on the head. Caleb’s heart clenches with affection. It’s a good look on him.

He can’t help it; he leans forward, placing a quick kiss on the corner of Essek’s mouth. Essek doesn’t flinch. Caleb tries, but he can’t stop smiling. “Schatz, would you bring us down?”

Pale eyelashes flutter, and realisation dawns in Essek’s eyes a moment after he looks around, taking in the slightly different angle of the room and the objects floating around them like huge, weird butterflies. 

Caleb has seen this man face a literal apocalypse with relative composure, wielding his power with ease and self-confidence, but there’s nothing controlled in the way everything clatters to the ground when he reverses the gravitational field too quickly.

They fall along with everything else, but the couch catches them, a soft, safe landing. Before Essek starts apologising, Caleb touches his lips. He still looks mortified, but he doesn’t flinch this time either.

“You can explain,” Caleb says, “or you can kiss me again.”

Essek’s indecision lasts for less than a second.

#have some schmoop on this fine thursday #critical role #shadowgast #cr ficlet #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #the cute floaty shadowgast first kiss #i have a normal amount of feelings about them trying to communicate and get used to each other's love languages #as well as overcoming a lifetime of habits that are not exactly healthy and doing it together #and about always-in-control essek being out of his depth #i'm sure people have already written about him losing concentration on the floaty cantip for kissing reasons #but i've has this scene running as a background process in my mind for literal months #my fics

[elfwoodfae]

“Complications”

Summary: After finding out by accident Dr.Wells’ secret, your relationship with him gets complicated as he doesn’t let anyone else close to you while you work a project for him.

Author‘s note: please if you are a minor don’t read. This piece contains smut. Do not read if you are under 18. This is the first piece of smut I write and publish, please be kind but criticism is always welcome. Feel free to reblog if you like, just don’t claim as your own please. Also tumblr is being weird and not letting me edit the space in between paragraphs better so sorry for that. Credits for the gif to the owner, I found it on Google and just cropped it.

Warning: Smut.

It had been an accident really. How you found out about his secret. A simple error in his calculations. It was a Wednesday night, the whole team had left by then, or at least he thought they had. He hasn’t counted on you coming back for something and as quiet as you were, it was no surprise when you caught him opening the time vault to come out of there, walking non the less.

There you stood, mouth opening and closing like a little fish, he hasn’t see you yet, but as fate had it the tool you were holding fell to the floor, making a loud noise. Turning his head around at a speed that had to for sure had given him a wishsplash he stared at you. Tilting his neck a little he moved in your direction with the beginning of a smirk forming in his lips. He wasn’t worried. He would get rid off you if he needed to keep his secret safe. Once he was in front of you you finally reacted, closed your mouth only to open it a second later.

“Why?” Was the only word that came out of your mouth. You couldn’t understand why would he lie. He raised an eyebrow as he approached you even more.

“You will need to specify a little more in your question y/n, why what?” It was easy to see he was thinking what to do with you after you had found out about him.

“Why would you lie about being able to walk Dr.Wells? And why were you coming out of that room in the wall? Do the others know about that room? What are you hiding?”

“I said specify, not add three more questions y/n, but to answer you, I lied because is in my convenience for the rest of the team to believe I’m, and that room in the wall is my time vault, as to what I’m hiding well there’s no point in denying it to you as you have already interrupted my plan. Your help was something I need and was counting on but not for it to happen this soon.” Your eyes widened as his hand came up to your eye level and started to vibrate.

“Is you isn’t it? You are the man in yellow , the ones we have been trying to catch!” Your lip started quivering, from fear and rage. This man who you all had trusted and confided in was the very same nightmare you and the rest had been trying to fight. Of course he was always one step ahead.

“Yes, is me” he replied in a whisper, his voice low and husky. “And now if you want your heart to keep beating, you will do exactly as I say” he lowered his hand closer to your chest, making you tremble in fear thinking this was it.

“I need you to build for me a tachyon enhancer,” he continued. “And I need you to keep this” he signaled with his free hand in between you and him “our secret, don’t think for a moment I won’t know if you try to tell the others, I’m after all always one step ahead.” With a flick of his wrist his hand stopped vibrating and as he moved to the side you made your way out of the lab still in shock. As the elevator doors were about to close you heard him wish you a goodnight, but you were too shocked to be able to process any of what was happening.

That incident had been a week ago and every second of the day you were on edge, always nervous whenever he was around and you were sure the rest of them were catching on that something was wrong with you.

You were working in your work station, a small lab a little away from the cortex, the tachyon enhancer he wanted was in process and as you twisted and secured a few of the screws you turned around completely oblivious to the world as your headphones were on your ears. The moment you turned around your hand flew to your chest as a mini heart attack threaten to appear as you came face to face with Dr.Wells.

“Jesus don’t do that!” You exclaimed, yanking the headphones out of your ears. He only stared at you waiting for your breathing to regulate before speaking.

“How’s our little project coming along?”

“I am working on it as fast as I can without raising questions from Cisco when he passes by, if I spend all the time here on it they are bound to grow suspicious.” He nodded and wheeled himself out of your lab. You had been thinking all day and night in how could you let Barry know what was going on, how to tell him who Wells really was without the man realizing it and ending your life in the process.

As if by a miracle Cisco came up with the idea that you all should go out for drinks, Barry would invite Iris and it would be the perfect opportunity to be out and talk to him without looking suspicious as all of you went out for drinks every once in a while. In there without being too obvious maybe you would be able to get Barry alone and speak to him.

“I need a drink or ten” you commented to Caitlyn as you all made your way to the elevators.

“Alright so Barry will pickup Iris and Caitlyn will pick you and then me and we meet at the bar” commented Cisco turning around and pointing at us.

“That sounds perfect to me” You said as you tried to give him the most genuine smile you could muster given the past few days.

Once alone in your apartment you started to get ready and think about what this past couple of days had been, how fast your life had taken a turn, you felt dirty, you wanted to tell them so much what had been happening but you couldn’t, not without risking a hand going through your chest. Just thinking about it made a hole open in your stomach. What you needed was a good night of drinks and some fun if a candidate appeared, you told yourself . Picking a dress a little too short and some high heels, you let your hair loose and run down your back. As you grabbed your bag and made your way to the door to greet Caity and Cisco your phone rang with a message.

“Don’t even think for a moment I won’t know if you so much as try to tell them.” You didn’t need to read the number to know who the message was from and dread filled you as you looked around in fear trying to spot him somewhere, hiding in the shadows. You jumped as Cisco knocked loudly on the door and called for you to hurry up.

The night had been promising, the bar was full and the music loud. Drink after drink seemed like the only solution tonight. Dancing and talking with your friends you started to relax a little bit more, your plan to tell them long forgotten since that message.

Around midnight you spotted a guy who caught your attention and as you made conversation with him you realized this is the distraction you were looking for. Walking over to the team you informed them you would leave with a friend and to not worry if anything were to happen you would let them know instantly. As you made it to the door of your building said stranger was kissing you, as you smiled in the kiss and and played with his hair his hand was running up against your thigh, the kiss deepened as you struggled with the key to open the door and in the moment you finally opened it and were about to pull him inside in a gush of wind and lightning he disappeared. Shock and rage filled you as you banged your forehead against the door and closed your eyes to take a breath. You knew who had done it, and to confirm your suspicions the moment you opened your eyes you were met with a pair of red glowing ones and a distorted face in a yellow suit. But as you were about to open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind he disappeared.

The next day at the lab Caitlyn asked you how it had been with your friend and you sadly had to tell her that something had come up and he had to leave.

“What a shame, he was cute, maybe you will see him again” she commented, trying to cheer you up.

“Yeah he was really cute,” you said “and who knows yeah I probably will see him again” you said making sure to glare daggers at Harrison, who was looking over at you two from the hallway that connected to the cortex.

“ Miss l/n a word please?” He asked in that tone that made everyone believe he was just worried or looking out for all of you. Getting up you walked after him, following to the lab farther away from the cortex, where no one was sure to listen or walk in by accident. As you got there, you used the little courage you had left to confront him.

“What was that last night?!” “What is it to you who I take him?” You questioned him, crossing your arms over your chest. He rubbed two fingers over his lips and stared at you with those piercing eyes that felt as if they could look inside your soul and as he lowered his hand he got up from his chair, towering over you, making you feel small and reminding you how intimidating he could be. He walked over to you in slow long strides, moving his arms to rest each one next to your body, caging you in in between the desk and himself.

“I don’t like distractions in my plans” his voice was low almost a whisper, “have we met in different circumstances it would had probably even been fun” he said. You could only look at him, and it could be the adrenaline of the moment or his close proximity but you found yourself feeling a low tingle in your stomach and the temperature of your body rise to the sky. It wasn’t a lie that he was attractive and smelled in a way that made you want to bury your noise in his neck. Your body betrayed you as you felt heat pool in between your legs and tried to focus your attention on him, only to realize that you haven’t heard a single word of what he had said and only catches the phrase “adhere to the plan.” And with that he pulled back away from you and sat back on the chair.

That night you couldn’t sleep. Your mind kept playing that moment over and over again. His voice, so close to your face, his lips, the way he moved, so dominating and confident, knowing he had the upper hand , that he had power over you, and his smell. The way he smelled, musky and clean. It was intoxicating and you wondered how you had never smelled him before.

After that incident you haven’t been able to be alone with him without thinking about it, or going as far as to imagine what would it feel like if he kissed you. You had a feeling he was a dominant man in bed. Your eyes widened as you realized just what you had been thinking about and realizing you needed a distraction you stopped your work on his tachyon enhancer and went to collect your things to leave a little earlier, taking advantage that he was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding in his room in the wall or hole in the wall as you called it.

Tonight was the night you would finally have some fun. Dressed in a very sexy black silky dress you decided to find some place to clear your mind with and after a few drinks and some luck maybe find some company too.

A few too many drinks you found yourself a little drunk but with the perfect company of a guy you had been talking to for the past half hour and making your way to your apartment everything seemed to be going smoothly. But as fate had it, in the moment you both made it through the door and he started kissing you and moving his hands to the zipper of your dress, in a fit of lighting he was gone, once again, another man with who you were about to have fun with was gone, and of course in his place was the man in the yellow suit. With the liquid courage so many drinks had given you, you pointed your finger at him.

“What is your problem!!” You attempted to smack him chest with your close fist. “What is it to you! Why do you care who I sleep with?” You screamed at him, tired of his constant interruptions. Grabbing your hand and in the blink of an eye he had you against the wall. His mask was pulled down and his red eyes stared at you. Your breath caught in your throat at his proximity and the position he had you in. “As I told you, I don’t like distractions, and you are becoming one big one, I also don’t like sharing, if I cannot have you, then nobody can” he said, his voice deep and distorted.

It took a second for your brain to process what he was saying and in between the alcohol in your system and his presence you started to blush, your mouth was semi open, unable to said anything.

Slowly he moved closer to you and as you closed your eyes his lips crashed into yours. His kiss was dominating, passionate, it made your knees tremble and your hand instinctively moved to his hair. One of his arms moved to the wall next to your head as the other came to rest in your waist. The kiss deepened, his tongue intrusively moved inside your mouth and you moaned into the kiss which only served to spur him on as he squeezed your waist and moved the hand on the wall and buried his fingers in your hair, keeping you in place.

He broke away, only to start kissing along your jaw down to your neck, moving lower he found that sensitive spot in between your neck and shoulder and when your head moved back and you pulled his hair at the pleasure, he made sure to suck on your skin and bite into it, gaining a long moan out of you.

“Which way is your room?” He asked in between kisses, his voice low and husky, as he lifted both your legs and you wrapped them around him. “Second door to the right” you said breathlessly as he sped you both away into it. Kneeling down on the bed he started to caress your thigh moving up to grab the bottom of your dress and lift it over your head, leaving you naked to him. You shivered and as he kissed his way down your shoulders and chest his hand came up your sides grazing the curve of your breast. Your hands played with his hair as you tried to feel if there was a zipper or a way to get him out of the suit.

Laying you back he phased himself out of the suit, moving his hands to your hair to hold you in place he kissed you passionately as he devoured your mouth your hands caressed all over him, feeling his skin, his toned arms, the curve of his shoulders and the way his back muscle flexed at the effort of holding himself over you. His hand moved up and down your thigh and as it got close to your butt cheek he moved his thumb slowly around the inside of your thigh right where it met the curve of your ass, feeling how warm and hot you were for him. The moment his thumb went over your entrance you moaned hard into his mouth. Breaking the kiss he held your hands over your head with one hand and started kissing down your neck to your breast, marking the soft skin of your breast, sucking and leaving small bites in it, making you squirm under him.

His other hand worked around your entrance, yanking down your underwear he ran a finger over, feeling your wetness and groaning at the feeling of your heat. Vibrating his thumb he moved over your clit, making you cry out in pleasure as one finger eased his way into you, and as he increased the speed added a second finger, stretching you, making you moan and arch your back as you tried to break your hands free.

Once out of his grip your hands went to his hair as you pulled him up to kiss you again, his eyes bore into yours, as he fingered you, watching you squirm and close your eyes at the pleasure. Your hand ran down his stomach, feeling his muscles, trying to get to his boxers and touch him.

That’s when it hit him how far he had allowed himself to let this go, you were a distraction to his plan, he was putting all of his work in danger for this, but he had been alone for so long, for fifteen years he had missed the touch of someone else, he was letting his rational size take control once again, he couldn’t allow this to go any farther, but as soon as your hand grasped his cock he knew all though process went out the window, he was impossibly hard and the second you stroke him down he had to bury his face in your neck to conceal a moan that was threatening to escape, he couldn’t hold on too much longer, it had been too long for him and the only thought in his head was how desperately he needed to be buried balls deep inside of you. He started to vibrate the fingers inside of you and you started to feel your orgasm get closer, as he vibrates his thumb faster your eyes rolled back and you moaned hard under him, pulling at the nape of his neck and scratching his shoulder. If coming over his fingers had felt this good you couldn’t wait for what coming over his cock would feel like.

Looking into your eyes he waited a second for you to look at him and decide if you wanted him to stop, he honestly thought you would realize what you were doing by now and demand him to leave, but instead you grabbed his face and kissed him hard while you struggled to take his boxers off, once his cock was free, you moved your hips against his, feeling his tip slide in between your folds, making you moan into the kiss, grabbing your waist , he hid his face in your neck, bitting down on you as he started to push his cock into you.

Groaning at the sensation of your wet walls squeezing him and for a second he forgot all about his plan, all about everything as the feeling of being inside of you consumed him.

Thrusting slowly into you he started to move. Making you moan in pleasure and grabbing his shoulders, scratching his back at the feeling of him bottoming out into you. His hand moved to your thigh, moving it over his hip, making you wrap it around him, giving him a better angle to go deeper, hitting that spot inside that made your eyes roll back and your back arch. Enjoying your reaction he kept hitting at that angle, loving the feeling of you squirming under him, in a moaning mess, sweat grazing your forehead as you tried to beg him to go faster. He knew what you wanted, but he enjoyed watching you try to form words to ask him for it.

“Move… move faster please” you begged him in between thrusts. He only moaned in response and started to move his hand down your abdomen, vibrating his fingers over your clit and speeding up his thrusts. You felt yourself clinging to his shoulders and scratching his back at the pleasure, your walls started tighten around him, squeezing him as you started to come, taking in a breath and squeezing your eyes shot as your orgasm came over you, coming around him was an addicting feeling, his cock moving in and out of you, hitting that spot in you while you came was too much for you as you moaned hard in the air, it felt like a shock, like electricity pumping through your veins, it was a feeling you never wanted to end. His trust became erratic, he was close, he bit down your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark as he came deep inside of you, enjoying every second of it, it had been literal centuries since the last time he had done this, and the feeling was excruciating.

Giving you a few seconds to breathe and come down from your high he kept his face in your neck breathing into your hair calming his breathing. Lifting himself off of you he saw the sloppy smile playing on your lips, your pupils dilated as you looked at him, cheeks flushes from the alcohol and effort. He doubted you would remember much in the morning. He hoped this wouldn’t complicate things. But he was sure he would have to do something about it if it interfered with his plan.

Slowly he moved out of you, as you turned into your side, too tired to think now, slowly drifting into sleep. He sped around the room getting into his suit and making his way back to the lab, he needed to think and check with Guideon that the article hadn’t changed.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache, looking around slowly you notice a bottles of pills in your nightstand and a glass of water. You wondered how much exactly did you he to drink last night. Rubbing your forehead with your hands it took exactly 5 seconds and a sticky feeling in between your legs for you brain to catch up with what had happened last night and as a dread feeling came over you, you wondered how could you go back to the labs and face him. Not only him but the rest of the team now that you had literally slept with the enemy, and the worst part is that you didn’t regret how good it had felt to have him deep inside of you.

@mintchipcupcake @nellethiel-aranel @saltykidcreation

#the flash smut #the flash imagines #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison wells x reader #smut #eobard thawne smut #eobard thawne fanfic #eowells x reader #eowells fanfic #harrison wells fanfic #eobard thawne x reader #the flash x reader #harrison wells x y/n

[runtedfiction]

nicer

day 1: facade @zelinkweek2021

ao3

* * *

Years later, when Link faces the castle’s crumbling walls, he thinks about the Princess.

* * *

The day King Rhoam announces this year’s Harvest Festival is also the day his subjects know they're doomed. Officially, it’s supposed to be a normal holiday. Unofficially, the language in the announcement—“the last celebration before the fight against Calamity Ganon”, “the last time the palace will be open to Castletown until the fight is over”—convinces everyone that they’re partying in the face of the apocalypse.

“They have no faith in me,” Zelda says, putting down her pen. “Ganon is brewing deep beneath the castle. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I can’t stop it. This is their last chance to let loose before all hell breaks loose.”

Impa frowns and hands her the final page of raw Guardian data to clean. “You're too hard on yourself. You still have time.”

“I just have Mount Lanayru next week.” She focuses on the Silent Princess above her desk. It's wilting. “Do you think I’ll be wise enough? Maybe Hylia will smite me right then and there for being an idiot.”

“Princess!”

“I know, I know.”

* * *

They wrap up that afternoon’s study, an incredibly useful session in quantifying the powers of the Guardians, to get ready for the ball.

Zelda’s dress is her signature blue, but a bit more fluid and feminine than the one she normally wears. Made for dancing and a summer night.

“Collarbones,” Impa notes, and Zelda laughs. “A little off the shoulder as well! And the subtle constellation pattern in the tulle--how stunning!”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t design it.”

“Guilty.”

Impa’s dress, an even deeper blue, is similarly gorgeous. It’s long sleeved, form fitting, and silky.

“Impa, I just want to say—” Zelda pauses, looking at their reflections in the mirror. When will they ever look this nice again? “Thank you for being my friend.”

Impa' smiles. “Of course. And Princess—if I may.”

“Yes?”

“With all your talk of the world ending, of doom coming.” Her voice gets small. “Do you think it would be worth telling him?”

Zelda stiffens. She thinks of him somewhere in the castle, dressed in his best uniform, walking to find her.

She lies. “No.”

Three quiet, efficient raps sound against her door. Zelda’s heart lurches.

* * *

In the hot, overcrowded ballroom, she can’t stop wondering if he thinks she looks pretty.

There are important people here she needs to talk to: researchers from the Royal Ancient Tech Lab, religious leaders, captains of industry, and so on. She finds her father and tries to reach some common ground on the one night they aren’t preparing for Evil Incarnate. (She fails.) She should find the court poet and give him the dance he’s been writing about for the past month.

But all she wants is for Link to look at her.

He’s indeed in his best uniform. His gloves and boots are blindingly white; his collar sits high and stiff against his neck. He’s uncommonly handsome, and the uniform emphasizes it. When someone pulls him in to dance (technically he should be keeping watch, but that someone really insists), she hates the jealousy that blooms in her chest and takes the hand of the poet. When she twirls, when she makes conversation, when she curtsies--she tries to see it all from Link’s perspective, if he can even find her in the crowd.

“Princess, are you feeling alright?”

“Oh.”

The poet looks at her in the way that a puppy looks at its master. The neediness satisfies and repulses her.

“Yes,” she says, smiling quickly. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Wonderful. I was sitting in the courtyard the other day and...”

It’s easy to tune him out and appear to be interested with the right amount of “mhmm” and “oh?” and eye contact. But every time he twirls her around, she tries to spot the top of a Royal Guard cap in the crowd.

She knows she’s being stupid. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario where Link’s interested, what could they do? Given that her powers aren’t working, there’s only a sixty percent chance they’ll get through the Calamity. She thinks back to what Impa said earlier. Something about letting him know in the face of impending doom.

(Maybe it doesn’t make sense to do something that would possibly be useless, a tiny voice in the back of her head says. But on the flip side, it’s also possible that nothing will matter soon, so why not tell him?)

She scowls and lets the poet dip her far too low for common courtesy.

* * *

Link is definitely lost in the crowd now. The next song requires that they rotate between multiple partners, and she can’t spot him anywhere. There’s no way that he’d be looking at her anyway, because why would he? He’s the chosen one, kind and strong and handsome and blessed. She’s the failed reincarnation, mean and headstrong and cursed.

If (when) the world ends, it’ll be on her.

Zelda admits to herself, swaying in the arms of someone else who doesn’t matter, that because the world has an uncomfortably high probability of ending, it follows that maybe, possibly, probably it makes sense for her to say something.

A sense of urgency unfurls in the pit of her stomach. Where is he?

* * *

She tries to find him. She doesn’t know what she’d do--ask for a dance? Strike up a conversation? Maybe it's the heat getting to her, but it worries her that she's lost him. She walks the length of the ballroom and comes up with nothing.

There’s no way she could summon him, but…

She grabs a glass of water and walks out the ballroom to the nearest balcony.

Except in this very specific circumstance, it’s infuriating how easy it is for him to find her. Even when she doesn't want to be found, even when she’s actively running away (and nearly dying in the process), there he is. The knowledge that he’s almost always aware of her presence burns.

“Hello,” she says after a respectable amount of time.

He steps out behind her. Unfortunately, the moonlight’s softness makes him look angelic. “Hi.”

Zelda very rarely has no plan. She’s the one always bossing him around, deciding where they’ll go next and how they’ll get there and what they’ll do. She’s at a loss for words right now.

“Ah--hm.” A cooling night breeze passes by. “Are you--are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yes?” He looks confused. And hot, her unhelpful brain adds. Very hot. “Are you?”

“Yes. It’s quite warm inside, but I enjoy the music and the dancing.”

“The band is nice.”

She agrees and scrambles to find another conversation topic. Damn it. Still no plan. Think, think.

“Uh--” he starts the same time she asks, “Are you ready for Mount Lanayru next week?”

He nods, and she hates how she made the conversation about work. But he looks more confident now--talking about work is easier than trying to have whatever kind of conversation she had in mind. “Yeah. I read about the region and it seems relatively safe. We might see Naydra too.”

“That would be incredible,” she says. “I’d love to capture it on the Slate.”

He nods again. A silence passes (a horribly awkward one that eats at her) before she asks: “What were you going to say before I interrupted you?”

“Oh yes.” Link clears his throat, and the fact that he looks a bit nervous sends her heart pounding. Can he tell what her subconscious is trying to do? “I’ve been meaning to ask (oh God, oh God, what has he been meaning to ask)--are you avoiding me?”

She blinks. “What?”

He won’t make eye contact with her. Triforce of courage, my ass. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No?” She’s stunned. Avoiding? All she’s been doing for the past week is pining!

“But, I feel like.” He pauses to look at her briefly. Again, his nerves kick off her own. “Ever since we got back from the desert, you haven’t really talked to me.”

She needs to think. A week ago, what happened?

They were at the Kara Kara Bazaar, and she nearly died because she intentionally (stupidly) lost him. She relives the feeling of it now--the panic that came with facing certain death when she realized it wasn’t Link following her, but the Yiga, then the shock when he appeared out of thin air wielding the sword. His back, so strong and sure. His concern as he helped her get up afterwards.

How once she could process what happened, something kicked in her chest, and everything was so obvious so suddenly.

Then getting back from the desert, what did she do? She wrote a diary entry, spent a sleepless night deciding she had feelings for him that she didn’t want to name, and tried as hard as possible to conceal them. The pining was unbearable, and--oh. Looking at him made her face burn, so she turned away. She never knew what to say around him, so she chose to say nothing at all.

Perhaps she approached her yearning by offsetting it with its opposite.

They really haven’t spoken. Zelda shakes her head, and mentally kicks herself. How can someone like you back if you don’t even talk to them? “I promise, I’m not trying to avoid you.”

He furrows his brow a little. Cute. Unfair. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok. If you do--if you ever need more space, let me know.” He smiles a little. “I do have to follow you, but I can do it farther away or something.”

She smiles back. Please always follow me. “Thanks. No need.”

“Alright,” he says. He glances at her arms.“Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit cold. You’re getting goosebumps.”

She didn’t even notice. An idea is forming in her mind, bright and hot and something that needs to rush out right now or she’s going to overthink it to death.

“Going back inside sounds good. When we do, would you--would you like to dance with me?”

The question leaves so quickly that she’s not too sure if he understood it. She holds her breath; she might throw up.

“Sure,” he says, and the disappointment that she expected to punch her gut doesn’t come; a flood of something wonderful washes over her instead. Sure is yes, her mind sings. “How about I find you before the last song? I’ve been doing a bad job of keeping watch.”

“Sure,” she echoes. Hopefully her excitement isn’t too obvious when she turns back and nearly runs into the ballroom.

* * *

When the band announces the last song of the night, Zelda lets go of the poet and steps back immediately.

“My Princess,” he says, and the normal repulsion she would feel turns into joy when she spots a navy blue cap making its way through the crowd. “I would be honored to have your final dance, if you would have me.”

“Another time,” she says, already turning to pick up her skirt and mosey her way through the last group of people separating her from a flash of sandy blonde hair. “Thank you though!”

She doesn’t wait for the poet’s response because the crowd is gone and Link is right in front of her, handsome and smiling slightly. Her heart is at a million miles a minute when she drops her skirt and steps forward to place her hand in his.

This isn’t like her. He must think she’s acting so strange. Either that, or it’s obvious just from looking at her what she’s thinking. It’s a frenzied array of thoughts, ranging from the obvious (handsome, handsome, smells so good?, handsome, kind eyes) and the embarrassing (The smallest, least repressed part of me has dreamed about this all week.)

The music starts and swells and she’s still dreaming. His hand on her back is firm. Thanks to the design of the dress, she can feel his glove pressing into her. She wonders if he can feel the heat of her skin.

“How are you doing?” he asks when they fall into a rhythm, and she smiles too fast, idiot, calm down.

“Great, how are you?”

“Good,” he says, and they spin. He smiles back. “Good to know you’re not avoiding me.”

“Of course not.” Stupid, you avoided him!

He dips her a perfectly appropriate amount.

She feels brave. It’s the adrenaline getting to her, because the rational part of her can’t stop (giddily) telling her that she’s dumb when she asks, “Why would you think that I'd avoid you?”

“Hm.” He looks away to consider the question. The tips of his eyelashes catch the chandelier light. “I thought that maybe last week was a bit too much.”

She thinks about how warm his hand was when he helped her get up after saving her life. “It wasn’t.”

“It’s ok if it was.”

“No, no, you’re too kind.”

Link clears his throat. “So you’re not avoiding me because I kept trying to follow you through the bazaar when you clearly didn’t want me to?”

She laughs. “No, it’s also incredibly stupid that I tried to lose you. Besides, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”

Link clears his throat.

She chooses to change the subject by asking an easy “What did you make for dinner tonight?” in an attempt to soak up the final minutes she has in his arms. He starts talking about mushroom risotto, and she can’t stop smiling.

* * *

At the end of the night, when he escorts her to her room, it’s late enough that silence is acceptable.

She’s decided that she needs to do something, but she doesn’t know what. A hug would be different, but too strange. I like you is simple, but too plain. Thinking about you makes my heart soft is embarrassing. I know I’ve been an incorrigible bitch but now my walls are down and I like you is too honest.

She turns around when they reach her doors.

“Tonight was fun,” she says.

He smiles. Zelda knows romance books don’t lie when her heart jumps at the sight of it. “It was.”

This is the moment. She takes a deep breath as quietly as she can. She has that nauseous feeling again. If nothing matters, tell him. Everyone knows the apocalypse is coming.

“Hey, listen,” he says right when she opens her mouth. He pauses to look at her. If she thought he looked nervous earlier when he asked her if she was avoiding him, it’s nothing compared to now. He does a visible gulp, and—

“I think I have feelings for you.”

She blinks. What?

“And I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he continues, tense and fast, looking right at her, “especially in light of everything going on right now. But I just had to put that out there.”

What?!

She closes her eyes--what is happening right now--and when she opens them he’s still there. This isn’t a dream.

Holy fuck. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

“Huh,” she says. He beat her to it. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. He beat her to it, and now all she has to do is the easiest thing in the world.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” she says. It’s so dark now she can’t see the blue of his eyes, but she can imagine it easily.

He’s surprised. “Really?”

“Really. In fact, I was meaning to tell you just now.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “Really.”

She smiles and takes his hand. He stiffens at first, then relaxes as she threads her fingers through his.

“Oh, actually, here, let me—” He lets go. Disappointment hits her briefly before she sees that he’s taking off his glove. Some of his scars are alabaster in the moonlight. He has so many.

(She wants to kiss all of them.)

His hand is warm and rough and lovely when he slips it back into hers.

“This feels nicer,” he says, and his voice is almost shy.

There are a million things she wants to say--what are we going to do if I end the world, what are we going to do if you save the world, how long have you known for, Hylia is going to smite both of us for being fools--but she settles on squeezing his hand instead. He squeezes back.

“Yes,” she agrees. Very gently, she cups his cheek with her other hand and leans in. He’s closed his eyes already. “Much nicer.”

#zelink week 2021 #zelink #zelink fanfiction

[morgana-ren]

Pale Imitation

The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

Rating: E

Warnings: Porn, Masturbation, Yandere, Stalker Shigaraki, Shigaraki is a total creep, Rough sex, Noncon Fantasy/Roleplay

Preemptive Note: Before you continue I just want to note: I'm not a sex worker but I have nothing but the highest regard and respect for them. What ensues in this story is pure kink and fantasy and is not meant to reinforce any harmful/mean stereotypes what so ever. My personal fantasy is degradation and I can't really seem to get off without it so it's a majority of what I write, but I swear to you it was not written with the intent to insult or hurt anyone in the profession! I realize the hardships endured by the men/women/NB/GN in the adult sex work profession and this is just intended to be a pure sexual fantasy and is by no means attempting to reinforce or normalize toxic behaviors in the workplace.

Bad wig? Check .

Poor voice imitation? Check .

Shoddy, unsealed makeup that sloughs off onto the unfortunate scene partner’s skin? Check .

All the tell-tale signs of a bad porno but with one distinct peculiarity that drew his interest.

You know, this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting to see when he settled in for his first nightly wank. The front page of any porn site is always a marriage of humorous and disturbing, but he can honestly say he wasn’t expecting to see his name at the top of any list that had a direct connection to satiating someone’s libido, yet there it was, plain as day on the top ten.

He’s no stranger to the villain kink page. Tons of civilians indulged in their darker fantasies through their nighttime excursions below their pantyline, and being a villain himself, naturally he was curious. Most of it is about what he’d expect. Villains, ancient and new, participating in copulation of all sorts. Some of it is that extremely out of character slow and romantic pornography. Other times, strangely enough, it’s the villains themselves getting taken advantage of. Sometimes by heroes, other times by random people, objects, or even tentacles. It’s interesting, to say the least.

Him though? He’d never seen himself in one, let alone being featured on the front page.

Up until recently, the media and all it’s sinful offshoots had opted to ignore him. However, his recent exploits must’ve caught the attention of the general public, and alongside it, the licentious denizens that dwell within. There had been a few forum posts, a little fan art (most of it flattering), and even a few oddly obsessive fangirls he’d come across. But this? Oh, now this was a whole new caliber.

He didn’t think of himself as particularly narcissistic, but this he had to see.

The guy they’d hired to play him was naturally a flat disappointment; Too bulky, and way too short. He could tell there was a classically handsome man underneath all that poorly done makeup that was meant to make him look pallid and dry. A sad, pathetic, and pale imitation of the real thing, missing some of his scars and moles entirely. The ashy gray wig they used to try to mimic his shaggy, unkempt hair had an awkward cowlick and kept flopping down too far on the actor’s forehead and looked far more dead than even his own unwashed mop. The voice he was using to mimic him was strained and scratchy, far too forced to be comfortable or even remotely realistic. If he had to place it, it sounded like the guy already had a terribly sore throat and had continued yelling for several hours to achieve the ‘desired’ effect.

He hadn’t expected much, but it was still disappointing. Though to be fair, they nailed the clothing, minus the brand of shoes he wears and the exact coat he’d chosen as his signature.

A part of him was ready to shut it off. Whatever lies ahead could only be utterly insulting, right? This grotesque pastiche lifelessly parroting his mannerisms was already curbing his sexual appetite toward something more violent, and not in the way he liked. Yet, out of sheer curiosity, he kept watching. What exactly did the average screenwriting porn cinematographer think he was into anyway?

It was a little ambiguous at first. At least until the shaky camera followed the Walmart brand Shigaraki knock-off down a generic hallway and into a borderline barren room, bringing into frame a quaking young woman tied up on a filthy mattress. After that, it became very quickly apparent just what type of smut he’d stumbled onto.

The camera zooms in on her face, tears leaking from her eyes and leaving trails of thick black makeup and mascara trailing down her cheeks, her begging and pleading muffled by a rag hastily stuffed in her mouth and secured with what appeared to be a bandana tied around her head. She’s clad in nothing but a flimsy tank top with the straps yanked down over her shoulders and a small pair of lace panties, covered in what appears to be made up lacerations and fake bruising. A nice touch, he notes.

He’ll admit, he’s intrigued now. It looks like they got one thing about him right, perhaps two now that he inspects the adult actress hired to play his unfortunate victim. She’s flattering, far more flattering than he expected given the low budget circumstances. Her watery eyes and quaking body coupled with the slight rope burn embedding into her chafing skin is enough to get his legs stirring and his pants tightening. She looks so pretty, so vulnerable behind all the waterworks and thick stage makeup. He thinks, just maybe, he might be able to get into this if he hyper focuses on her.

As his imposter approaches, she pushes her bound legs out, squishing herself back against the wall and as far away as she can manage from the threat encroaching on her personal space.

“Heroes can’t save you now.”

The shallow mockery of his voice grates at his ears, but he’ll admit the comment is on brand. The actor harshly yanks the bandana out of the woman’s mouth, her pouty lips trembling as she begins to grovel, blinking more tears down her swollen cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry! Please just let me go! I won’t tell anyone anything!”

All things considered, she’s convincing enough to get his blood pumping. Tomura readjusts himself in his chair, reaching his hands beneath the band of his sweatpants. If he can ignore her counterpart, he thinks watching her squirm and squeal will get him off. After all, it’s supposed to be ‘him’ violating this cute girl. Maybe if he defocuses his eyes enough, he can pretend it really is.

“I’m going to show you how much of a villain I really am!”

Ugh . Whoever wrote this dialogue clearly had never met him, or probably any real villain for that matter. It’s enough to make him want to retch, but the feel of his own hand on his cock and the soft whimpering of the actress  as the villain stand-in strips off his coat brings him back and makes him throb. The camera moves in to offer her a close up, face dropping and eyes widening in horror as she comes to the “realization” of what he means.

“No! Please! Anything but that!”

She kicks at him, trying to fend him off with bound limbs as he crawls over her onto the bed. A harsh slap to the side of her cheek is enough to quiet her down and allow the assailant to cage her to the bed with one hand, the other clumsily fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. After he shimmies his ill fitting skinny jeans down his thighs, she looks at him with eyes widened in horror, shaking her head erratically.

“No! Please Mister Shigaraki, it’s too big! It won’t fit!”

A hand far too burly to be his wraps around her neck, pointer finger plucked awkwardly upward. “Quiet! You’re my prisoner and you’ll do as I say!”

Just ignore it.

The free hand goes to grab at her tank top, a brief but noticeable pause in the filming leaves her topless with stage prop ash sprinkled along her torso, the ropes around her wiggling legs conveniently gone now. While the cinematic effect was laughably bad, Tomura can’t bring himself to care. Not when her tits are now on display for him to ogle.

Chest bare and heaving, perfect nipples perked to attention just for him. Smooth, creamy skin goose pimpled and tender, so tempting that he's aching to feel her. A quick swipe of his thumb over his sensitive, spongy tip elicits a rumbled groan from deep in his chest. It’s easier now to ignore the shitty portrayal of himself, especially when he can lose himself to the throes of lust and pretend that it actually is his hands wrapped around her little throat, other fingers drifting lower and lower down her trembling belly.

A quick hook around the seam of her panties and they’re ripped clean from her hips, legs splayed and leaving her pussy center frame, already wet and glistening. He swallows hard, the sight enough to make him salivate. She fumbles around beneath him, desperate to buck him off, but it’s to no avail. Fingers, his fingers, tease the entrance to her tight little hole, slipping one finger, and then two inside, oscillating in and out preparing her to take all of him. Just like she said, he’s so big. He doesn’t want to hurt her, not like that.

After that, it’s all too easy for him to slip into his fantasy. He strokes his cock in tandem with the pumping of the fingers, pausing only briefly as the girl mewls as the fingers slip out and the tip of his cock is aligned with her little entrance. He pistons his own hips as it slams inside, head reeling back on the edge of his chair.

The high pitched whine that escapes her throat as the fake buries himself deep inside has him biting his lip, slowing his hand by force on his shaft. Fuck, even her moans are hot. Her bouncing tits and staggered breathing as his imposter rails into her has him enraptured. The subtle way she leans into the hand on her throat, back arched off the filthy mattress, face expressing clear distress but body betraying her clever act.

It matters little that she’s being paid to partake in the scene with ‘him’. The fact she was open to it says more than he could have hoped to know, and clearly she’s enjoying the treatment. His hazy eyes focus in on her face, working his hand harder with every little nuance she gifts him. The twitch of arms as her nails imbed themselves into her palms, the parting of her moist lips. He’d be willing to bet her tongue could work magic, taking him all the way to the back of her throat. God, she’d look so cute like that. Hands tied behind her back, a sloppy, drooling mess around his dick.

“S-Shigaraki! You’re too rough!”

The hand clamped around her throat tightens, her final word more of a croak.

“You like it, you little slut!”

At least there’s one thing him and this mediocre porn actor can agree on; she certainly does like it. Rolling her hips against him and wailing in a way that has him wonderfully immersed in his fantasy. Hearing his name on those sighs only strengthen his hold, he can practically feel the warmth of her skin, indulge himself in the wet, clenching tightness of her cunt.

It’s fucking insulting that this trash gets to wear his skin, steal his countenance to fuck her. It should be him. If this whelp could get her all hot and bothered, just imagining what the real thing could do sends the remaining blood reserves rushing between his thighs, prick pulsing even harder in his palm. Yeah, he could get this little bitch squealing. She’d fucking like it too, judging by the look on her face as she gets plowed by a man wearing his visage.

Oh, he’d make her scream. Leave real bruising in place of that cheap costume makeup they’d so lazily applied to her naked form. Truth be told, the video itself was rather boring. He’d only kept watching because of how enraptured he was with the little witch being stuffed full of cock by his imitation. He’d never really been taken with an adult actress before but this one? Oh yes, he could really get into her.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her. So pretty to him, so deliciously pliable, so completely worked up about a villain using her as a toy, pumping in and out of her warm little pussy until he fills her with his hot cum and she’s overflowing with every fluid thrust. Sweet, sensitive neck exposed just for him to bite and abuse. Face stained with tears, puffy cheeks just aching to be squeezed and smacked. Probably tastes like rapture, eager to swallow whatever he decides to spill into her mouth.

And she could take it. He just knows it. Bent over for him, any hole he pleases free for him to use, hand-shaped welts raising on the swell of her ass. Fingers fisting her hair and arching that cute face back to look directly at him as he spits between her open and waiting lips. She’d swallow it like a good girl, just like a good girl, he knows she would.

He works himself faster, his own breathy whines joining the cacophony of licentiousness that echoes in his eardrums. His imagination shifts into overdrive, clumsy, irregular strokes of his hand tenting and deflating the crotch of his sweats. Soft, pillowy tits bulging through his fingertips as he kneads them, sucking on those tender nipples until they harden just for him. Fucking her mouth until her lips are swollen and red, face covered in a mixture of drool and cum with lipstick smeared around her cheeks. Legs locked around his narrow waist as he slams into her repeatedly, chanting his name and begging him incoherently not to stop, never to stop.

“P-please don’t cum inside me! Please- I-“

Oh, he’d cum deep inside. He’ll cum anywhere he wants on his little whore until it’s slick and dripping. He’ll tie her up, smudging it across her broken expression and let it dry nice and thick. Slip his cum covered thumb into her mouth and then ignore her until her thighs are grinding together and she’s begging for his thick cock again, any way he wants her.

Fuck- fuck she’d love it too. Ride him until each slap of her ass on his bony hips made his cock punch hard against her cervix, crying in pleasure and pain but never stopping until he allowed her. Dig his nails into her back, his teeth into her flesh and mark her up real good, let everyone who sees her know just what she’s been up to with him-

“Shigaraki! Fuck! Shi-Shigaraki!”

His name spills from her lips in a needy sob, voice cracking and so utterly genuine that it sends him over the edge. His cock throbs and stutters in his hand, shooting jets of sticky white seed all over the inside of his black sweat pants and staining his fingers. His entire body shudders, legs stiffening and balls tightening and clenching as his cum spills in fat ropes across the fabric. Try as he might to focus on her face as she cums for him, he simply can’t, eyes slamming shut and mouth left agape as a strangled cry erupts from his throat.

He gives a few subconscious pumps into his hand as searing pleasure crackles through his body, toes curling in his shoes as his lower body lifts off the chair to chase his high. Millions of images flash across his mind, the foremost of which is her, greedy eyes hungry for pleasure only he can give her, silky cunt milking him eagerly. A jagged tooth bites a little too hard into his blistered lip, enough to crack it open but he’s too submerged in bliss to notice. The only thing he can feel is her.

His thighs tremble as his body falls back down into the worn computer chair, orgasm leaving his entire body feeling weak and drained.  His breath comes in heaves, gulping down air as he tries his best to shake off the residual searing pleasure so hot it almost hurts. Overstimulation looms on the horizon and his heavy eyes drift open, feeling so drowsy now he can hardly keep them apart. The orange bar at the bottom of the video is all the way to the right, the video having concluded itself.

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

Her name. He needed to know her name. He needed to know everything .

He doesn’t bother reaching for the tissues. He simply withdraws his hand from his waistband, wiping his mess onto the knee of his pant leg before grabbing his mouse and scouring the page for any crumb of information he can find. The comments, while amusing, are hardly helpful.

So hot xx thanks

Who’s the guy even supposed to be?

This babe is so hot, luv her stuff everytime

Yall r gunna get rekt when he sees this shit lol

any sexy girls wanna reenact this with me? Hmu

I’m a girl and I love this!

Wish he’d do that to me <.<

He’d dwell on all of that later. For now, he settles for a quick search through the uploader’s account. It’s a small studio, only a few films out to date, most of which revolve around taboo relationships between villains and society. Following a hyperlink to their main website leads him to bio, complete with her stage name and picture, and even another link leading to an interview with a small time adult magazine, an article called “Cum to the Dark Side” that he bookmarks for later reading.

Even post-cum, she’s just as beautiful. Enchanting, sultry smile and cheeky little expression in her picture. Maybe it’s fate that he stumbled upon her. Maybe she really was just that good at acting and she didn’t have a thing for him at all. Either way, he wants some time with the talent. For research, of course.

Her personal details, as expected, are hidden. They go the lengths to protect their employees it seems. What isn’t hidden, however, is the studio’s number.

He thinks he can work with that.

#NSFT #shigaraki x reader #tw adult stuff #tw yandere #tw uhh self love #tw stalker behavior #Part 1 #tw noncon roleplay

[newvegascowboy]

'If I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop'

For the writing/ship meme ! With whoever you'd like to write for :D❤

oh, tysm! <3

from here

tw for blood/violence/Red not being a very good doctor

"I'm beginning to think you're bad luck," Red says to the ceiling of the dusty shack where they're sheltering. To the right, cushioned on a bed roll and a pile of blankets, Arcade slumbers on. Between them, an IV snakes across the dusty floor, from Red's extended arm to Arcade's.

Red flexes their right hand, the needle in the crook of their elbow pinching. It'd taken a couple of tries to get it in right, something that probably would've turned Arcade blue in the face. It'll hurt later, but right now, that's the least of Red's worries.

Head falling to the side, Red studies Arcade. He looks... Bad, in a word. His hair is mussed and bloodied, face sallow even in the dim half light of the shack, where the sun spears in from cracks in the old wooden walls. The bits of skin that aren't padded in bandages are bruised or smeared with blood. There's a split across the bridge of Arcade's nose, mirrored in a crack in his glasses. He'll have a black eye by morning.

He's been asleep a little while, ever since Red dragged him through the doors of the little desert shack and dropped him on the nearest pile of blankets that could've been considered a bed. Red's skills are suited to hasty patch jobs that can be walked off with a deep breath and a shot of whiskey - not this. Arcade needs a real doctor. He needs his own people at the fort. It'd take them at least a day to get to New Vegas, and Red's in no shape to go dragging anybody anywhere.

As if in response to their thoughts, the wound in Red's abdomen throbs. They grimace, putting a hand over the bullet wound in their side. Blood has already soaked through the hastily packed gauze and is pooling against Red's skin. It'd been a glancing shot, but a lucky one. The bullet is still lodged inside them, probably buried in a kidney or some other equally important organ.

Sighing, Red rubs at their face, fingers digging into their temples and the hollows of their cheeks. Stubble scratches at their fingers. They stare at the ceiling, tracking chips of light that trace along the wooden slats, catching in the cobwebbed corners.

"Think we'll die here?" they ask absently. "What a lousy way to go. Killed by god damn powder gangers. What an embarrassment." Red sighs, eyes slipping closed. Their hand falls to their chest, slipping inside the interior pocket of their vest. They withdraw their cigarette case and flick it open.

"Ah," Red says. "One left. I'd say somebody up there likes me, but considering the circumstances, maybe not." They withdraw the cigarette, tapping the rolled end on the case to settle to tobacco. To their right, Arcade sleeps on, stirring only to breathe.

"You'd be nagging at me if you were awake," Red says, the cigarette placed between their lips. They reach for a lighter, striking the flint and holding the cigarette in the flame until the ember catches. Red exhales again, eyes closing. "It pisses you off so much, like you don't smoke. You get this... annoyed little knot between your eyebrows."

Red cracks an eye open to glance at Arcade. His exhales whistle a little, likely from a partly broken nose. The sound is almost comforting - like Red doesn't have to watch him to make sure he's alive. "Can I tell you a secret?" Red asks. "I think it's kind of cute. Half the reason I do anything is to see if I can get you to give me that look. Well - half's a little generous, but you get the point."

Arcade, of course, is silent. There's no point to the conversation, really, but maybe that's why Red's talking. You can't get the last word with a dead man, but Red's left things unsaid for far too long. And it's not like Arcade will tell, really.

"I'm not easy to get along with," Red says. "And I've never really given you a reason to like me, but against my better judgement... Gannon, I kind of like you." They scoot forward, pushing away from the wall until they can reach out to touch Arcade. Red's fingers press against the hollow of his throat until they find the slow, steady drum of his heart.

"Healthy as a horse, in my medical opinion," Red says. They move down to his arm, pinching at the IV buried in the crook of his elbow. Blood spurts from the needle as Red removes it, pooling along the swollen vein. "Just gonna take that back. Tank's a little empty if you know what I mean."

They repeat the process on their own arm, wincing at the sting of the needle. Discarding the IV tube, Red leans back on one elbow. The wound in their abdomen is getting harder to ignore, as is the blood slicking their hand and dusty shack floor. They clamp a hand over their side, feeling blood pulse between their fingers.

"Gettin' someone to like you is so miserable," Red says to Arcade's sleeping face. Their words don't have much definition, slurring together. "So I never really tried. S'my fault, I know. I'm not... I'm not that kind of brave."

They reach out, touching Arcade's hair with bloodied fingers, leaving red smears behind in their place. It might be Red's imagination, but they think they see him stir, his head rolling to the side, eyes pinching at the corners. "If I was, though," Red starts. "If I was, though, I'd kiss you. And if I started kissing you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

The world has lost its clarity around the edges. Things are turning grey. The floor feels like its spinning and Red doesn't feel well. They fall backwards, sprawled on the floor.

"I think," they start as the world begins to fall in on itself. "I'm going to rest my eyes for a bit."

#fallout #kal talks #kal writes #courier six #courier red #arcade gannon #arcade #arcade x courier #yaass we have some romance

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #81 Review

i swear i actually thought no one was interested so i didn’t write one but a grand total of two (2) people said they wanted to read it, so here it is. honestly, my opinion’s been going a bit downhill, but the art is really cool and there are some decent parts so. holding out i guess? i really hope taylor has an end goal or at least a cohesive plan, otherwise i don’t see this series going anywhere i’ll particularly enjoy

the cover is very straightforward in its imagery, this villain has nightwing in the palm of his hand, easily manipulated, easily controlled no matter the action dick thinks he’ll take. 

what i find interesting is the colour: both previously and heavily in this issue, the colourist has chosen to make pink this villain’s main colour, with different shades of pink as accents. so why the red in the cover? possibly to just make it more eye-grabbing, though one could argue that pink is even more eye-catching than red. maybe to convey a sense of dread or fear that pink won’t fully get across. either way, it’s definitely a decision i’m curious about.

so melinda zucco is in a high enough political position within bludhaven that she is next in line to become the mayor after the previous mayor died and dick just,,,,didn’t have any idea she existed? dick didn’t know anything about her? forget dick’s own brilliant detective skills, forget his doggedness at anything zucco related, you’re telling me bruce never found her and told dick about her? maybe he wouldn’t have now, but back when dick was a young kid, he definitely would have at least made dick aware of her existence, to let dick know and ask if he wanted to interfere with her life or anything.

i have a thought about zucco’s facial expressions. she is very much stone-cold poker face throughout the entire issue. the only time i see her pull a different expression is near the end when dick corners her against a wall with an arm around her throat. 

this is most certainly intentional, what with the varied and intense expressions we see on other characters, dick most prominently. i’m wondering what exactly is the creative team’s reasoning behind this. in these panels, zucco is meeting with the most dangerous, powerful, near-bloodthirsty man in all of bludhaven and becoming the mayor of the city respectfully. in both of these panels, there is barely a hint of emotion in her face: no fear, no determination, no satisfaction. it’s just odd, considering the circumstances she’s in, regardless of any training recieved.

just spitballing here but. like. from what i’ve read so far, dick doesn’t really seem like bludhaven’s guardian angel. more like when peter parker first put on spandex and blindly stepped out into new york.

dick, how exactly can you underestimate someone from one move. so he caught your escrima. anyone with enhanced reflexes can do that. you still don’t know how he can actually fight, and this is shown in the next set of panels. 

i just don’t like the wording here. dick’s “underestimated” him, but beats him up easy in the next page. in addition, i don’t know much about combat, but i would assume it would take more than one move to determine exactly what an opponent’s skill level is, made even more complex when you add physical enhancements and metahumans and aliens into the mixture.

idk my first thought when i saw that he caught the stick was “ah ok he’s enhanced” because obviously he couldn’t have reacted fast enough if he wasn’t (as there are few people trained enough to catch it on human reflexes alone.) then the wording in the next panel, i’ve underestimated him, made me think “oh no ok so he’s not enhanced, he’s just a really good fighter and can give dick a run for his money in a fight.” then, it turns out my first assumption was proven correct in the next panel. it just comes across as misleading to me.

(also sidenote but his curls are cute.)

have i praised the art enough in this series? no, i have not.

i adore the way this is laid out and illustrated. without even having to read the text, the action sequence is visually engaging and intense, and easily followable from one panel to the next. dick’s physical expertise comes through quite efficiently, and i love the special attention shown to draw our attention to dick’s escrima in the bottom right corner.

also that move in the middle row leftmost panel that’s the mcu black widow move to get up off the ground it was the first thing i noticed and it made me laugh; thought it was worth noting

i’m really loving dick’s escrima sticks in this run. they’re just so multipurpose, it’s hilarious and exhilarating. kinda reminds me of bruce’s belt, the way the button in the middle does eevveeerrryyytthhiinngg. 

got a problem? don’t worry! dick’s installed a feature into his escrima that can fix that! (i like thinking dick helped make them it makes me happy and makes my engineer!dick side satisfied)

yawn. your big heart is your one true weakness yadda yadda the fact that you care will be used against you blah blah we get it. jesus can the villains please find a different weakness to exploit, this is getting old.

i need dick’s capacity to empathize and care and love to stop being a weakness that villains sneer about. bonus points if dick saves everyone anyway, either because of or despite his great big heart and the villain is surprised by the goodness of mankind or some shit like that.

i need it to be a strength, right from the get-go. the fact that he cares so incredibly much should be an asset that dick has and will use. he’s a very complex character with years of background, it can’t possibly be that hard to find another weakness of his. 

ooooh this is cool, gosh i absolutely love this.

because what exactly is the reader doing? we are seeing the fear in dick’s face, just as this villain intended. even better, we’re seeing the reflection of it from the villain’s glossy mask, telling us exactly what we’re seeing and exactly what he likes so much about it.

dick’s standing up straight, shoulders drawn back, looking up at this villain’s face with determination and resolve, but his suit is tattered. one eye looks to be swollen. his hair is falling limply around his eyes, as opposed to the curls from earlier. his escrima aren’t even part of the main focus, instead blending into the side of the mask in the outer corners of the mask’s eyes, which tells you exactly how big of a threat they are to this villain.

poor bitewing’s quite alarmed.

also on second thought why would you bring your puppy out like this, when you know you’re gonna end up fighting someone in the suit. a) how many grey three-legged adorable little puppies live in the bludhaven area dick? and how easy will it be to connect the doggo running around with nightwing with the doggo that dick grayson owns? and 2) is this puppers trained? does she have fighting experience? how exactly can you ensure she will survive this highly stressful situation?

dick take better care of your dog 

you know what? i was with tim on this one. why exactly is dick so optimistic and trusting about the people of bludhaven? bludhaven, which has been described as gotham’s smaller, smellier, more corrupt sister city once or twice. it’s not just the corrupt people in power, the entire system needs to change and people need to have faith and hope in order for them to come together, espcially if they’ve been living in conditions like how bludhaven has been described. from how clueless dick is about his own goddamn city, i can tell he hasn’t been here long.

it was a nice moment of hope, i’ll admit. but it was a tad unrealistic for me.

also it was in a weird place in the comic. this sort of confrontation and big get-together of the people to rejuvenate hope in each other feels like it should come near the end of a run, if not the end of an issue. certainly not in the first third of an issue. the pacing’s a bit off to me.

loyal little puppy patiently waiting for her human to wake up. i love her so much.

no it’s not. it’s bitewing.

living for this t-shirt honestly. do comics of dc characters exist in the dc universe? they must if the mug and the shirt are any indication

(now i’m imagining the first batman movie that came out in the dc universe and bruce just. being so offended at who they chose to play him.)

well, yes. but when a group of people are put through hellish conditions over and over again, they soon become desensitized to the pain and terror of their everyday lives in order to both stay sane and keep their life relatively stable, and part of that becomes ignoring or blocking out anything that isn’t directly important to you or your loved ones. having a bleeding heart will most likely get you killed in a city like bludhaven if you don’t have the same skills that vigilantes have.

and of course, people are more than capable of coming together and rallying under their city’s vigilante after seeing the good they’ve done and how they’ve helped the people, but that sort of trust takes time and effort to build. dick also had the whole ric arc and was gone for a while, which has been referenced several times in this particular issue in fact. that’s not going to make bludhaven’s citizens any more likely to trust him.

maybe i’m being a bit harsh but this comic is comic off as a bit too idealistic for the amount of change nightwing can do in a city given the present and past circumstances as well as nightwing’s own abilities. even dick grayson can’t pull off everything.

ok seriously this needs to stop this needs to stop.

right now, dick reminds me of oliver queen in the few episodes of the cw’s arrow i watched. he does the punchy-kicky-fighty and occasionally has smart insights due to the skills he gained from his past that he certainly definitely totally has but only ever exhibits once, while his team does all of the background research and information gathering and actual work.

this is dick’s city. if he has the same intelligence, worth ethic, and stubbornness in this run that he’s been shown to possess all his life, then he knows this city inside out. he’ll have meticulous notes organized in a ridiculously efficient system, he’ll have scouted out zucco long before this started, he’ll have known when anything big happened in the bludhaven political landscape in an instant.

i’m really not liking exactly how much dick’s relying on babs and tim in this series. sure, he loves them and cares for them and likes working cases with them. but he always pulls his own weight, has always been a mentor figure to tim instead of what’s weirdly becoming the other way around, and takes point on the cases in his own damn city.

what kind of weak-ass oracle is this?? redacted fbi files are child’s play. babs used to hack into the fbi for fun. this one particular picture is so out of character i want to laugh.

reading this series has unfortunately made me confront that, despite the tiny fluid acrobat dick that lives in my head 24/7, canon dick is impossibly 5′10 and muscular at that.

mmm. titties.

tim said hydrate or die-drate bitch

love how dick’s doing all this intense brooding and stuff meanwhile bitewing is curled up in a soft comfy post having the time of her life.

you don’t understand i would legitimately kill myself for her.

also the lighting in this one scene is cool. the blue tones come off so well.

they’re just. so multipurpose!! they can become a bo staff. they can cut glass. they can become a grapple hook/line. they can electrify someone. they’re a funky colour. i’m becoming really attached to these things. absolute solid choice in weaponry.

if you’re gonna write up every rookie mistake dick has made during this series to head trauma, then dick shouldn’t be out and about at all, much less in costume.

see this? this is just straight up wrong. dick most definitely should have spotted her, and would have immediately moved to take her down.

scratch that, dick would have done a full check of the building, because he knows not to break into places uninformed, especially if the owner of the apartment was raised by the maroni family. someone as highly trained, experienced, and competent as dick wouldn’t have done this.

and if you chalk it up to head injury, (which is probably true), than his ~love interest~ and his little brother should have done a much better job making sure he stays in his house.

zucco looks so awkward it’s fucking hilarious

are those shadows that mimic a domino mask, to both reflect and hide the fact that his mask is missing? are those bruises around his eyes, to show how, despite what good he’s doing, being nightwing is hurting dick right now? 

(isn’t his domino mask supposed to have an electrifying feature that keeps people from removing them?)

it’s a little odd how the three known villains of this series are all coloured in warm shades, more specifically pink. meanwhile, in earlier issues, dick’s fondest memories were in pink, memories of him and alfred in particular. why has the colour pink changed from signifying something benevolent to something malicious? idk i hope this gets explained later.

this i did like. either it’s just a display of brute force in anger, or dick slipped the ties and pulled them off once untied. both ways, it’s an unintentional display of power, and i think that’s kinda cool.

again. dick is,,,tall? sort of? weirdddd

i’m so glad most readers are unified in the notion that this was the absolute dumbest fucking thing.

i’m hoping this gets disproved or something soon. and i hope dick doesn’t fall for it, because he definitely knows better than to take something as important as this at face value.

what exactly is taylor trying to accomplish here? why is he trying to go back on what we all knew was a happy, loving childhood and throw strife and disharmony and (what i’m assuming will be) infidelity? this will not end well at all.

---

,,,,,this review got way longer than expected lol. and i realize most of it just became me ranting. i guess i didn’t realize how ticked off i was originally. fingers crossed it gets better.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer

#nightwing 81 #nightwing #dick grayson #dc #nightwing 81 meta #nightwing meta #dick grayson meta #dc meta #river thinks too hard

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (4) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog and Taehyung have become very comfortable around each other, getting used to each other’s presence. Their bond grows even more once a ghost from the past comes back to haunt Taehyung. His natural response is growing even closer to Frog, relying on her completely for comfort and… a distraction.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angsty themes in the second part (an “ex girlfriend” comes back, Taehyung puts up a wall, just a little). Frog starts asking herself questions about sexual attraction. There are some innuendos here and there. Taehyung receives unwanted attentions that make him deeply uncomfortable. That should be all.

The parts that look good were edited by the miraculous @joheunsaram​ (I recced one of her pieces right here in my main blog 💜)

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. Here is Tae and Frog’s music companion (spotify playlist, the playlist in case you wanna create it on other platforms)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Taehyung had become a comfortable addition to your life. He was steady and reliable — from your bi-weekly lessons, to drinks with his friends on the weekend.

Terry had extraordinarily managed to stay friends with both Jimin and Hoseok, occasionally taunting them, but overall keeping things neutral and platonic.

However, the one who was struggling with friendly, platonic feelings was you. It was difficult not to notice the way Taehyung always managed to predict your objections, your movements and your needs.

You felt a connection that made you feel weak, queasy, like clay gently sprinkled with water.

His lessons had become a secret guide to people and relationships.

The first time he had actually placed you at the wheel, helping you throw your first small bowl, he had given you the epiphany of a lifetime.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.”

A revelation had struck you just then and there. That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed your ex husband in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out.

“Every shape has its specific requirements,” Taehyung had explained, dipping your hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from your fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched,” he had reminded you from the previous lesson. With a small nod he had invited you to press down the pedal lightly. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up,” he had smiled at the material underneath your hands.

“Gentle. Easy,” he had corrected you, his sinewy fingers gently leading your hands, recalibrating the pressure points. You had watched the greyish water stain his hands as he helped you. “That’s the secret to good things.”

In the following lesson he had taught you the importance of separation and remotion.

“It's been a few hours* what you have right there it's a leatherhard*. It's hard enough to withstand some pressure, but not ready to stand on its own,” Taehyung had shown you how to cut the bowl from the base, to turn it around and let it dry evenly.

“Still it wouldn't survive the kiln yet,” he explained. “You need all the water out. Water weakens the structure and your piece would crumble. And you would need to start anew,” Taehyung's delicate fingertips had lifted the piece, turning it around. “They're like children. One wrong move and, bam, you lose their trust and you need to earn it back, from ground zero. Yes, Frog. Just like that, easy with the pressure or you'll leave fingerprints,” he had scolded you, exhaling and closing his eyes once he noticed the damage had already been done.

You had looked at him with a sheepish grin, smiling apologetically.

What you didn't know is that he had scowled at the realisation that he simply could not keep a long face at you.

Taehyung had discovered an even weaker spot for you.

He had realised he liked you a lot.

You were quiet, observant, and incredibly intelligent.

And he liked chatting with you on your nights at the pub. And he liked your fashion sense.

He liked leaning his head against your shoulder, he was just extremely sorry he had to be half drunk to be brave enough — or to be somehow excused for the excess of clinginess.

He liked you, the cheerful and polite smile you wore while talking to Jimin and Terry indistinctly, like they had the same importance to you, no matter you had known Terry for ages and Jimin for a few weeks.

He liked the way you trapped the tip of your tongue between your lips while you focused on a piece, or the fact that once he had stopped by the bookshop, only to spot you curled up on an armchair with a fuzzy blanket on your shoulders while you read a book.

He had studied the sleepy smile you had offered him as he handed you a cup of tea that had just been brewed in Seokjin’s café. Taehyung had felt young and foolish as his smile mirrored yours. He’d wandered around the few shelves in your shop, studying a few books and asking questions about the organisation of genres on the shelves.

He asked for recommendations and chuckled as he noticed you growing increasingly chatty, disrupting your streak of quiet to passionately discuss authors and plots and publishing houses, little naive art books and detective novels and half unknown poets from entirely unknown countries.

It had been an amazing morning, with a lazy yellowy light floating in from the large windows.

After that, his visits to the bookshop had become more frequent, even stopping by during a reading date — which of course was not the two of you having a date, but rather other people coming in, mostly couples from university, to explore the shelves together, have that niche romantic academia experience, which sometimes meant that professors also came in with their husbands or wives. The loveliest of them all was the Ancient Greek professor, a seventy year old man who always came in with his wife, opening the door for her and walking around with her hand in his, usually stopping in front of the Russian section to see if they could find anything they liked. Taehyung had helped you create some artsy reading nooks that your customers truly appreciated.

The last month or so had been a blessing, for the both of you.

You both liked the steady, warm presence you could offer each other: he liked having you around because he felt less lonely, and because it was so easy to focus on you rather than the discomfort of loss; you enjoyed his respectful guidance, like a toddler still stumbling on their feet finds comfort in the parent walking right behind them; you felt free to move autonomously, but you also felt him there, never looking away in chase you needed a hand to hold. You had found a companion.

And with that many things started getting out of your control.

One in particular.

It was Tuesday afternoon and as usual the bookshop was closed. You parked your bike in Taehyung’s driveway, grabbing your tote and blushing a little as you fixed a classy, old school ribbon in your hair, covering the hair tie of your ponytail. You felt fickle and juvenile.

You felt romantic.

You felt ready to be pampered with tender guidance and soft touches, still strictly limited to your hands, always after mannered glances asking for your permission. With eager joy, you opened the door to the studio, only to notice an extra wheel beside the usual one.

And one extra person.

A woman.

Currently running her hand down Taehyung’s arm, toying with his fingers.

You blinked a couple times before you rebuilt your happy facade. “Oh, hi! Hello there!” you greeted with a smile.

Taehyung immediately took half a step away from the woman.

“Hello Frog, how are you today?”

“Happy,” you chirped in a way that had Taehyung warning immediately. He knew that kind of gleeful tone was dedicated to other circumstances — books, your friends, squealing when you managed to make a good piece. He frowned also because you weren’t one of those easily excited people.

What could have possibly made you want to show off so much happiness all at once?

“I’m glad,” he commented before noticing the extra wheel and suddenly remembering the guest.

“This is Dolly. Dolly is a fellow artist. She’s from a small town nearby. She is designing customised tableware for a resort cottage nearby. She’ll work with us today.”

You nodded, grabbing your apron — the only apron, you noticed — and got ready for the task of the day.

“Would you like to try making a plate for today?” he asked, taking out some premixed clay and preparing it on the table for you to wedge. “Or we could do some glazing while Dolly does her thing.”

“No, I could use two teachers,” you replied, trying to be inclusive, shushing all the unmotivated jealousy. How unreasonable!

“She won’t let you get away with things just because of your cute smile,” Taehyung warned, the stern reprimand sugared by the half hidden compliment.

“I almost don’t make mistakes anymore!” you complained before walking to the table, rolling up your sleeves and beginning to pat the corners of your piece of clay.

“Do you need me to do that?” he asked, feeling twice as apprehensive as usual.

“You could wedge some for me, Tae?” Dolly called, preparing a large disk and bringing it over to the table. “Please?” she cooed.

Taehyung agreed, feeling more comfortable at your side, both your foreheads growing sweaty with the warm spring weather and your arms getting sore as you worked the clay until it reached ideal plasticity.

“How was yesterday? I didn’t manage to bring you breakfast,” he mentioned almost casually as he started giving the final twists to the clay body.

“Oh, it was okay. Slow Monday. A couple teachers brought in some stuff to print. One of my parents’ friends asked me to grammar check her dissertation. I had a few books brought in for safety rebounding. Same old,” you said, sitting at the wheel and throwing the clay down. “How should I go about the plate?” you asked, looking up at Taehyung.

He was suddenly enchanted by your beauty as you looked up, a few rebellious locks escaping your hairband and making you look so unreal, so breathtaking and young.

Sometimes he forgot you were young.

Sometimes he even forgot he was young himself.

He was living the kind of fondness his grandma had always told him about, the kind of fondness she had met once sixty, ready to conclude her earthly struggles by herself. Instead, she had met an honest man, a widower who understood her past and her present.

The two had shared a quiet, tender feeling until she left. They were friends, they talked about the weather and gardening, went on walks, had picnics and went to church together. He always held her hand and kissed her forehead with a reverence Taehyung had never met.

Except for you.

He knew the only love he would never doubt was the one that accompanied his granny through her last days. He knew she passed a happy woman and that relieved him immensely.

Being the son of a single mother meant many complicated things, which included his mom moving half a continent away when he turned fourteen, chasing a man he barely knew.

He was glad he had his grandmother then, and the guys. Jimin and his family, although very complicated.

Taehyung didn’t understand the inner dynamics of relationships, and his lack of experience during high school had definitely not helped.

It’s not like he hadn’t tried, but he didn’t feel comfortable. He was always trying to learn while all the girls he had dated expected some sort of latin lover for unknown reasons — probably because of a rumour started by Jimin and Jeongguk, which had clearly, miserably failed.

All he could do was show kind devotion and gain continuous inspiration by the women in his life.

Pottery itself was an art he had learnt from his mother, who in turn had learnt from her mother. He had liked it from day one, like he had been called to it, made for it, even.

“Taetae please, could you help? I think I’m stuck,” Dolly whined, stopping to look at her attempt of dish. “What do you think?”

You tried to ignore the way her voice hurt your ears, leaving some clay aside to handbuild fruit for decoration to add later. Once done, you remodeled the amount for the plate in a round ball against your apron before throwing it a bit too aggressively on the wheel before starting to center.

“See, I’m not sure about the lip. Should i give it a wider edge or make it a bit… I don’t know. I kind of wanted it flat, with a slightly raised lip,” she pouted through her words, but you kept your focus, centering the piece flawlessly, repeating the procedure a few times, feeling the movements terribly familiar and comforting.

“It’s a good idea,” Taehyung confirmed, “a bit of a modern twist.”

“Aw, you’re so nice!” Dolly cooed, batting her lashes at him just as he turned to look at you.

“You’re still centering? All good?” he asked, noticing you stuck on holding the half dome under your palms, ready to bring it up again.

He let you go through the motion, finding himself the excuse of checking your technique only to stare at your strong but precise hands.

You went on without answering, letting the clay grow against your palms before feeling it peak and changing your grip, pushing your thumbs across and down.

“Good job, Frog,” he praised you, watching your face light up in a shy smile while you kept working the ball onto a large, thick disk.

“It’s a lot more than usual,” you commented with a sheepish grin.

“You’re doing perfect,” he reassured you. “Keep it even. Remember the ashtray-turned-jewellery plate?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Use the side of your hand. Press down harder,” he directed you. “Use your whole body, Frog. You’re handling a lot there, you need to be a bit more aggressive.”

He bit his lip before testing the waters. “Make it wetter, Frog.”

You felt yourself freeze for a second. You swallowed and dipped your dominant hand in the water.

“Don’t make it drip,” he corrected you.

“I’m gonna drench it,” you replied.

“Taetae—”

“Just a second, Dolly,” he replied absentmindedly. “Drench it, Frog.”

You obeyed.

“Gonna touch your back,” he warned you before you felt his forearms on your shoulders, pressing you down. “Use your whole weight. You need to make it to three inches. The thinner the easier.”

You felt his voice close to your ear.

“When it starts to drag, it’s too dry. Hug the side,” he rose and placed his palm against yours. “Just hold it. No pressure. Lovingly.”

“Tae—” Dolly called again.

He closed his eyes. “Just keep pressing,” he told you. “Tell me.”

“Can you help me with the lip?” Dolly asked, batting her lashes.

“First, make the base wider. Flatten it nicely, till the edge, then pinch the wall up. It will fall a little as it dries, but maybe we can find a way to secure it. If you make it short enough it should hold,” he explained professionally.

“Could you show me, please?”

He nodded. “Wait, Frog, stop there. Watch,” he commanded curtly.

You slowed down the wheel before stopping, holding your hands for a second before making sure that your piece didn’t get out of control.

“Okay,” you told him once you were ready.

“Come up here, I need you to see the details.”

You reached the two other people, Taehyung taking Dolly’s spot at the wheel. He fixed his stance before he wet his hands. Instinctively, his left palm went to hold the side while his right fingers grabbed a needle, measuring the thickness of the plate. “Just around two inches. And here it goes thicker, you see? Around three inches,” he showed, sticking the needle in.

“Did I do wrong?” Dolly asked, awfully dramatic.

“You just need to make it thinner,” he commented, already dipping a small sponge in the plate before squeezing it in the plate, still being very careful.

“Now, Dolly first used her fist — the side of it — and pulled it toward her to spread the clay lower. Repeat that several times. At least six or seven, based on the pressure you manage to apply. Then she used her fingertips, center out. Like this,” he said, showing the motion.

You felt ready to throw yourself out across the glass wall head first.

His middle finger pressed down with such firmness that you couldn’t not think of it doing very inappropriate things to your body.

You felt dumbstruck at the sudden thought, like it was some sort of exceedingly vivid dream, too realistic to actually be a dream.

“Rib next. Dolly didn’t use the rib properly here. She was too light.” He corrected the woman’s mistake, using his chest to press down, exhaling loudly as he did. “You have to go deep, Frog. Stay there. Be a bit stubborn.” He grinned. “Hold position.”

You nodded, licking your lips.

Dolly’s eyes were glowing with arousal next to you, his brow arching once he put down the rib after five minutes or so. “Wet fingers,” he reminded you, wiggling as gimey, grey water rolled down his wrists, the vision unfairly erotic for the dirt covering his hands, dripping down the hypervascular back of them, the veins of his forearms significantly thicker.

You shook your head with a grin as he wiggled his digits. “You put one inside, on the outside and press them together. Make sure you dig deep with the one on the inner side. You’ll want to press down firmly to collect all the material you’ll need for the lip. In this case, we keep pushing out, to further widen the plate and give it a short, erect lip.”

You were out of your mind, nodding just in hope to get away from torture.

“Oh, so that’s how I need to do the lip! Thank you Taetae!” Dolly exclaimed, giving you a way out.

You caught the chance immediately, sitting back at the wheel, drenching your hands before reapplying water to your piece.

“Wetter,” Taehyung called immediately.

Oh.

Your brain froze as you realised that wetter you were, indeed.

“Make a fist,” he ordered as he poured more water on your piece. “Press the side of your pinkie knuckle in the middle.”

You looked at him, crouched beside you, his mop of black hair tumbling back as his dark eyes met yours.

They hid so much longing, so much need for comfort. You read them immediately, nodding.

He placed his hand on top of yours. “Push down, Frog,” he murmured, in a way he hoped only the two of you would hear over the sound of the wheels’ engines. “Harder, lovely.”

You held your breath, his fingers and palm swallowing your fist entirely as he slipped his thumb into the hole created by your index and thumb. “Pull it towards you now,” he spoke softly. “Hard and slow, Frog,” he reminded you.

Your brain was far, far away, filled with questions about how you now found yourself comfortable about seeing Taehyung as a potential partner.

Duh. Because he knows you, dummy, the reply came instantly

Because he seemed to do everything just right for you, and when he ended up making a mistake, he seemed to know exactly how to ask for forgiveness and actually learn from his previous wrongdoings.

“Do I keep going?” you questioned, looking at him.

His face lit up slightly. “Yes, darling.” He let you go slightly after, cleaning up his hand.

You missed his guidance, but you convinced yourself you could do without.

“Slow down. Test the thickness,” he reminded you, offering the needle. “You did perfect, Frog,” he murmured with a fond grin.

“Really?” you reacted incredulously.

He confirmed, nodding as he stuck the needle along the side. “We need to work with your fingertips along the sides, here,” he showed, closing down the small puncture.

You wet your digits and placed your middle and ring finger on the center, slightly angled, letting them slide all the way to the edge as the wheel turned.

He assisted your outer hand, supporting it and showing how much pressure was needed.

“Keep going like this for a couple minutes. Make sure that it slims out. Just a few minutes—”

“Tae, do you think this is right?” Dolly asked with her squeaky voice.

His left hand grazed yours reverently as he parted from you.

Taehyung cruelly realised he was head over heels for you.

“It looks just fine to me, Dolly. I think you could give it a last test and then let it dry.”

“Yes, maybe you could give me some hands-on guidance with the next one. I could learn from a… master like you.”

You almost scoffed, giving a choked snort before you could actually control yourself.

“Uhm… I’m sure you just need to refine your timing.” Taehyung tried to evade the request.

During the rest of your lesson, you managed to throw two plates, even building a few decorations that would be added once the clay was leatherhard, in about twenty-four hours.

“I’ll add the decorations tomorrow,” Taehyung told you as you washed your hands. “Unless you want to stop by during lunch break.”

You dried your hands, thinking about his suggestion. “I think I’ll be busy tomorrow. You know, the Spring fair is soon and there’s some stuff I need to do.”

He pouted and nodded. “I’ll trim and decorate then,” he agreed. “If we’re having our Friday lesson, we can bisque them.”

You smiled and agreed.

“Maybe I can throw some plates for you and show you how to decorate while the kiln is working,” he reasoned, helping you to remove the apron once he noticed you were stuck in it.

“That would be lovely, if it’s not too much work for you!” you replied happily. You deposited the apron and caught your bag, fixing it on your shoulder. “It was a pleasure, Dolly!”

“Likewise!” she replied with a smile so sour it would have made milk curdle. “I’ll see you again!”

“Yes, for sure!” you cheered back, making your way out.

Taehyung accompanied you, almost as if you didn’t know the way. “I have a book to return,” he said, making you frown. He didn’t borrow any book from you.

“Uhm,” you started, trying to understand his intentions.

“Come in, I have it in the kitchen,” he said, leading you through the backyard.

“Taehyung,” you called, once you reached the door to his house, keeping your voice low. “Are you okay?”

He opened the door and led you through. His house was incredibly traditional compared to the way you had expected it to be.

“I’m… I just needed to check in on you. Dolly can be a very… loud… presence,” he said, grabbing a glass and a pastel pink porcelain pitcher. “Lemonade?”

You shook your head. “She is indeed very… loud.”

“I’m sorry,” he sat down and drank. He looked sad. Worried. “Are we okay, Frog?”

You stood at his side, looking at him before delicately placing your hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay, but are you? You look terrified of being in there with her.”

He placed both elbows on the table and held his head. “I’m just very tired today.”

Your hand moved to his nape, feeling the corded muscles. “Tell her you’re tired and that you’re calling it a day. I can make up an excuse for you.”

You were reminded just how much he had clung to you for the whole lesson. If she was giving him special attention, he clearly didn’t want it.

“Would you do that?” he asked, suddenly hopeful.

You frowned. “Of course?” you reacted, playfully disappointed in his lack of faith. “We can stay here. I can read, you can nap or watch the tv. We just need to make her understand it’s time to go. I’ll hide my bike and wait for you here. You’ll go in there and tell her Jimin or someone called and they need your help.”

“Are you sure you want to spend the afternoon like this? I mean, it’s your free day.”

You shrugged. Your plans were going home, getting rid of the awful tension running down your back and possibly going to the shop for some cleaning, maybe work on that dissertation… “You’re my friend. And yes, I want to help you.”

Taehyung knew that some people would have been highly disappointed by being called ‘friend’ by their crush, but that made him feel warm, like he was wrapped in a cosy comforter. “Go hide the bike,” he said, grinning like a child.

You grinned right back at him, starting down the corridor with long strides. He helped you choose a nice spot, hiding your bike between the house and the bushes tracing the outline of the garden.

After fifteen minutes or so, you heard Dolly’s annoying voice as she said something like “call me if you need help with Jiminie”, dramatically bidding Taehyung goodbye.

From the window, you watched her get inside a car in front of the house, Taehyung appearing a few minutes after. “We. Are. Free,” he panted theatrically as he flopped on the sofa, throwing his head back.

“Why did you let her come?” you asked, staring at him from your spot by the window.

“Because she’s an old friend. I met her way before she became like that,” he admitted. “I hadn’t seen her in ages. And now she’s clearly trying to get back in my life, using the commission as an excuse.” Taehyung rubbed his temples.

For half a second you wondered whether it was a good idea to ask. Would it make any difference? You realised it would. “Were you… In a relationship?”

“If for ‘relationship’ you mean ‘let’s fuck him so I can complete the friends collection’, then yes.” Taehyung propped his forearms on his knees, exhaling heavily.

You hissed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to do. “If you’d like to rest, I can go home,” you said, looking at him with cold, uncertain eyes.

He met your stare, suddenly feeling confused, scared even. He frowned and crossed his arms, trying to put some distance after he noticed his refuge turn hostile to him. “You can go,” he said, shrinking within his shoulders, trying not to show how much he feared being alone.

What he didn’t know is that you could feel the hurt in his voice and the pain in his eyes like needles sinking in your skin. You walked to him, touching his hair hesitantly, feeling wary about not receiving spoken permission.

You watched him bloom under your touch, his lungs inflating with a large inhale. He exhaled way more slowly, taking his time. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, letting your hand slide down the side of his face.

He shook his head, placing his hand atop of yours, holding it there just in case you foolishly thought he didn’t need your touch anymore. “Can you stay?”

You placed both your hands on his hair, cupping his face. “I’ll read, you take a nap.”

He watched you move your free hand away, putting down your tote and grabbing a book. He grabbed your wrist, staring at you with his dark puppy eyes. “Can you sit here? Close?”

You smiled and nodded, settling at his side before he grabbed a blanket, spread it wide and laid down, nuzzling closer, inch by inch, until you found his head on your lap.

“Can I?” he asked, adorably, his cheeks puffy and his eyes glittering vivaciously.

You smiled back at him and nodded. Fondly, you moved your book aside, watching him close his eyes contentedly as your thigh became his pillow.

After a couple pages, you almost thought he had fallen asleep already, only to realise you were mistaken once he reached for your free hand and brought it to his hair.

“Cuddle?”

You smiled even brighter, tracing the shell of his ear before starting to hand-comb his soft, dark locks.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered gently, barely holding back as you looked at his face, peacefully relaxed.

Your heart was a messy thing, but in that moment you realised that, could you have a new one, you would gift it to him and never ask for it back.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

#taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fanfiction #thetruthuntoldnnet #thebtswritersclub #taehyung strangers to lovers #taehyung angst

[sunshineandaisies]

Tuesday

Words: ~3.3k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injury, a tad bit angsty?

Note: I haven’t written anything new in the marvel fandom for 4+ years now, so this is me dipping my toes back into it before I start working on new series that I have planned. And because I hate myself sometimes, I decided to write something for a character I’ve never written for, our smol bean peter. Hopefully I did okay???

A typical Tuesday for you was, well, normal. 

You’d go to school, mildly pay attention in class, and do your best to stay out of whatever drama was currently overtaking the halls of Midtown High. When the final bell of the day rang, you walked home with your headphones in, playing loud music to drown out the sounds of the city. You’d get home from school, maybe have a less than healthy snack, and watch a random television program until your mom was trying to pull you away from the couch for dinner. After dinner was eaten - and the dishes were cleaned and drying, because you needed that weekly allowance money - you shut yourself in your room to work on homework and to subsequently procrastinate that homework by playing mobile games on your phone. Usually, you’d end up falling asleep with one of your textbooks open to the page you’d been in the middle of reading and with your phone slowly dying in your hand because Candy Crush was lighting up your screen and draining the battery.

Pretty uneventful, right?

This Tuesday, however, was anything but uneventful. 

You should’ve known from the moment that Peter Parker spilled chocolate milk on your white top at lunch that the day was going to be anything but your typical Tuesday. It only got worse when he shoved a handful of napkins onto your chest, dabbing at the stain while stammering and blushing and being so frustratingly cute that you couldn’t bring yourself to yell at him for practically pawing at your chest in the middle of the cafeteria.

It didn’t end there. 

Your locker jammed between fifth and sixth period, preventing you from grabbing the calculus assignment that you had spent hours trying to complete over the weekend and making you unable to turn it in on time. The worn strap of your backpack finally broke on your walk home from school, and you were forced to carry the heavy bag in your arms, making the limbs numb and tingly by the time you finally reached your apartment. Your mom had picked up a rare night shift at the hospital at the last minute, leaving you to fend for yourself for dinner – which, in normal circumstances, would have been fine, but the Moroccan place down the street that you ordered from had given you the wrong food and you were too hungry to call them and have the order corrected.

You figured that would be the end of it. You figured that there was absolutely no way that anything could go wrong as you spent the rest of your evening actually working on homework, sprawled lazily across your bed, and bopping your head in time to the music coming through your headphones.

Oh, how wrong you were.

It had to be nearing midnight when you were startled from your chemistry homework by the sound of banging on the fire escape outside your window. You paused your music, slightly startled and more than a little confused. Sure, there were occasionally stray cats that somehow found their way to the metal platform outside your window, and sure, sometimes those cats where assholes and pushed each other around every now and then – but this…that thump either came from a very, very large cat, or someone was outside your room.

You got your answer when a very sweaty, very tired looking Peter Parker stumbled through your window and landed face down on the floor, groaning softly. Your mouth soundlessly opened and closed, opened and closed, opened and closed as you tried to find your words, but the Spider-Man suit that he wore and the red mask clutched tightly in his hand had left you absolutely speechless.

You easily stared at him for five minutes, trying to process what had just happened. Did Peter Parker really just crawl through your window and then pass out on your floor? Was Peter Parker fucking Spider-Man? Was Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – in your bedroom? Did Spider-Man touch your boobs today?

“What the fuck?” you finally spoke, startling Peter as he looked up at you with wide chocolate eyes before panic sunk in and he jumped up to his feet abruptly, which in turn only served to startle you more and make you repeat, “What the fuck?”

“Y/N?” he asked, as if he wasn’t sure that it was truly you that sat in front of him. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered as he started to pace, pulling at his hair nervously. “Mr. Stark is gonna kill me.” He glanced back up you, eyes still wide. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re Spider-Man,” you countered, eyes flitting over the tight suit before focusing on the mask in his hand. “You’re Spider-Man, Peter.”

“Okay, so- so maybe it is what it looks like, but I-” He cut himself off, and you could tell that he’s struggling to explain the entire thing away. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, yes. I’m Spider-Man, but you can’t tell anyone. Please, Y/N. No one else can know about this.”

You nodded slowly, abandoning your textbook and sitting at the edge of your bed as you stared at one another awkwardly. “Don’t tell anyone. Got it. But, like… Are you- Can I ask questions?”

“Um, yeah, I- I guess.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck nervously as his checks tinted pink. “Ask away.”

“First question – why are you in my room?” It seemed like the obvious question to ask. If Peter – Spider-Man – hadn’t crawled through your window in the first place, you wouldn’t even need to ask him any questions at all.

You had to bite back a laugh as you watched his eyes widen momentarily as he finally took in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the few photos you had of you and your friends hanging on the walls and the stack of books that sat on your desk just waiting to be read. “Your room? I, uh- To be fair, when I crawled through the window, I thought it was my room.” You opened your mouth to interject, but he continued, “I live here. Well, not here, here, but in this building. With my aunt May. We live here. In this building. I must’ve swung to the wrong fire escape.”

“Swung?” you asked, his explanation providing more questions than answers. “Like with your webs?” He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “And you swing around the city and fight bad guys?” Another nod. “You’re Spider-Man.”

He paused, as if thinking his answer through. “Yeah.”

“This is wild,” you commented more to yourself, leaning in closer and poking at the material of his suit. He stayed completely still as you prodded the suit some more, feeling the thick fabric beneath the pads of your fingertips. You let out a short laugh and looked up at him, repeating, “You’re Spider-Man.” You laughed freely then, and the little smile he gave you was enough to make your heart pound wildly in your chest. “Don’t worry,” you assured him once the laughter died down, “your secret’s safe with me, Parker.”

You could almost feel the tension and nervous energy leave his body, and you watched as his shoulders slumped forward, finally relaxed since he first realized that you saw him as Spider-Man. “Thank you, Y/N. I know I’m asking a lot, but I- It’s really important.”

You smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Parker. My lips are sealed.” You mimed zipping your lips and locking them before throwing away the key, and it made a small burst of laughter escape his lips. “Besides, you have more things to worry about than me telling the world that you double as a superhero after school hours. Like our Spanish test in first period tomorrow.”

“Spanish test t- Shit!” You watched his eyes widen again at the reminder of the test that you both had to take in eight hours, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he quickly scrambled towards the window. Halfway through your window, he glanced back at you with a soft smile curling his lips. “I, uh- Thanks again, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Spider-Man.” You winked, and he was gone, crawling up the wall to the fire escape above yours. You crouched down at your window and listened for a moment longer as the sounds of Peter hauling his body over the rails of the fire escape and the opening of a different window – presumably his – echoed through the alley between your apartment building and the building next to it. Knowing that he’d be able to hear you, you called out, “Goodnight, Peter,” and shut your window.

After that night, your typical Tuesday was anything but normal.

Your mom started to regularly work night shifts on Tuesdays, and while there were no more mishaps with incorrect takeout orders, no more chocolate milk spilt on shirts, and no more jammed lockers, there was Spider-Man.

Peter was quick to realize that every Tuesday night, you would leave your window slightly open just for him regardless of how cold the autumn air outside was. Some nights, he crawled through your window as early as eight. Other nights, you didn’t see him until nearly midnight. Some nights, you would spend hours going over chemistry and calculus homework with him – because, seriously, Peter Parker may just be the smartest sixteen-year-old you’ve ever met – and discussing his latest superhero escapades. Other nights, you simply sat together on your bed, sharing candy as you talked about school, friends, family, and everything else that happened to come up in the course of your conversation.

The easy friendship you had formed with Peter had confused a few people, to say the least.

His best friend, Ned, had openly stared at you with wide eyes the first day you sat beside Peter in the cafeteria, and your friends looked at you with confused expressions before quickly following suit and taking a seat at the table. MJ – who you thankfully already had somewhat of a tentative friendship with thanks to a history project during freshman year – simply lifted her gaze to you, shrugged her shoulders in greeting, and returned to the book she was reading. Flash was quick to make a mean comment about Peter once he noticed you and your friends sitting at the table, but after you made a passing threat of sharing his Spider-Man fanfiction with the school, he scurried back to his own table with his tail between his legs.

Peter, though. Peter looked at you with such a tender expression that made your heart flutter uncontrollably in your chest and your cheeks flood with warmth as you settled into your seat beside him. You playfully knocked your shoulder against his and made a quip about Spanish class that made him laugh before falling into easy conversation with the others, though your mind never drifted far from the way that your thigh was pressed against Peter’s or the way that his pinky finger would occasionally brush over yours.

That first day you sat with Peter in the cafeteria had a domino effect. Over the course of a few weeks, you spent an increasing amount of time with Peter, both during school and outside of school hours. You walked home from school with Peter every day (or at least every day that he didn’t disappear for Spider-Man duties); you joined him, Ned, and MJ for movie nights on Fridays; and you even had dinner with Peter and May on the rare nights that you spent hours studying in Peter’s bedroom rather than alone in yours.

But the domino effect didn’t stop at just changing how you typically spent your days.

Without any warning, you found yourself falling painfully in love with the nerdy boy that lived in the apartment above yours and that masqueraded as a crime fighting superhero in the evening and on weekends (though you knew that if he were really needed during school hours, he would find an excuse to disappear from class for as long as Spider-Man was needed).

You thought about telling Peter, you really did. Every time he crawled through your window, a wide smile on his face and his cheeks tinted pink from the exertion of swinging through the city, you thought about telling him how he made your heart race in the best way. Every time his fingers brushed against your arm as you walked home or across your fingers as you sat in the cafeteria, your thought about telling him how he made your skin tingle pleasantly with just the slightest touch. Every time he appeared at your place with sandwiches from Delmar’s and spent hours on your couch watching old sitcoms, you thought about telling him how moments like that were what made you happiest.

You thought about telling Peter, but you never found the courage to speak up.

Your friendship with Peter was too valuable to risk losing it because of your feelings, and you didn’t miss the way that he would look at MJ when she wasn’t paying attention, the way that he would go out of his way to speak to her in the halls between classes, the way that he seemed so in tuned to everything that she was doing and saying. Your feelings would fade eventually, so you kept them to yourself and told yourself you were content with just friendship.

It was only fitting that it was a Tuesday night when everything changed nearly three months after Peter mistakenly crawled through your window.

Despite the December chill and the light dusting of snow on the fire escape outside your window, you left the window cracked open just enough for Peter to easily pull it open and crawl inside. It may have made your room almost unbearably cold, but it was nothing that fuzzy socks, a comfy sweatshirt, and a heated blanket couldn’t fix.

It was later than usual when Peter finally arrived, stumbling through your window when he finally managed to open and it, and it didn’t escape your notice that his fingers had left bloody streaks on the glass pane of the window.

“Peter!” You heart leapt to your throat as you scrambled from your bed to support him, and he slumped forward, struggling to stay on his feet. “Pete, c’mon. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Stabbed,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “He had a knife.”

You were not prepared for this. Absolutely not. No one had ever told you that being friends with a superhero would mean them stumbling into your apartment at two in the morning with a fucking stab wound. “Okay. Uh…” You led him to your bed, helping him lay down before scanning your eyes over his body. And just as he said, there was a large slash across his abdomen, his red suit staining an even darker red as he bled from the wound. “Shit, I- Pete what do I do? Tell me how to help you.” You tugged at his suit with shaking hands, trying – and failing – to pull the material away from his body. “How do I take this fucking thing off?”

You stepped back as his hand pressed against the spider symbol on his chest, and the suit instantly enlarged, allowing you to pull it away from his body and to bunch the material around his hips. (If it hadn’t been entirely inappropriate given the circumstances, you most certainly would have taken your time appreciating the sculpted muscles on Peter’s chest and abdomen).

You inspected the damage, your eyes burning with unshed tears and the fear you felt increasing exponentially the longer you looked at the gash that marred his skin. It wasn’t too deep, but it was deep enough to nearly send you into a panic. “We should call 911, Pete,” you told him once you found your voice, though it was still thick with fear. “I- I don’t think I can help you. I don’t know how to-”

“Hey,” he whispered, his warm hand curling around yours and squeezing reassuringly. “I know you can. I watched you stitch that pig up in biology at the end of the dissection a few weeks ago.”

“I just didn’t want to leave it cut open like that,” you defended, though you knew there was really no need to. “But a dead pig is much different than a living human, Peter. I don’t…” You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand even tighter. “I’m scared, Pete.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I promise.” He let out a hiss of pain, his jaw clenched tightly. “Your mom has a first aid kit, right?” You nodded. “Get it.”

You did as you were told, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet in your mom’s bathroom before returning to Peter. You worked slowly after you had cleaned his wound as well as you could and threaded the needle. Your hands shook as you started stitching the wound back together, careful to not make it any worse than it already was. Peter hissed in pain each time you poked the needle through his skin, but he whispered reassurances to encourage you. Soon, his abdomen had been stitched together, and while it certainly wasn’t pretty and would definitely scar, it looked stable.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do wi-” he began, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you hissed. “Do you have any idea how fucking terrified I am right now?” The tears you’d been holding back while you stitched him up finally spilled from your eyes. “Do you have any idea how much it fucking hurt to see you like this?”

He sat up on the bed, bracing himself on his elbows. You didn’t miss the way he winced in pain from the movement. “Y/N, I-”

“I’m not done talking, Peter,” you snapped, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “I get that you’re Spider-Man, that you feel responsible to protect the city and do whatever it takes to stop the bad guys, but- Fuck, Pete! You could die!”

“But I won’t!”

“You don’t know that!” you shouted, your lip trembling as you sat next to him on the bed. You lowered your voice to a whisper and repeated, “You don’t know that, Pete. You just don’t. Tonight, you got lucky. But what if next time, instead of a knife, they have a gun, and you get shot.”

He glanced up at you sheepishly, his chocolate eyes pleading with you to stop crying. “I heal fast,” he tried to reason, but it wasn’t enough to appease you. You looked away, but a gentle hand on your cheek brought your attention back to him. “Besides, I’m pretty motivated to not die. I can’t take you on a date if I’m dead.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him before promptly snapping it shut. Did he really just say that? Was it the pain and the exhaustion talking, or did he really mean it? “Date? Did you just- What did you say?” It was definitely the pain and exhaustion talking, right? It had to be.

He leaned forward and rested his head on your shoulder, and you froze, concentrating on the way his warm breath ghosted over the skin of your neck. “A date, Y/N. Uh, if you- I mean, only if you’d want-” You giggled as he stumbled over his words, tilted your head slightly to rest atop his. The action must have soothed his nerves, because he took your hand in his and confidently said, “I wanna take you on a date, Y/N.”

Your lips curled up into a wide smile, unable to contain how absolutely giddy you felt in that moment. “I’d like that, Pete,” you told him. “But we really need to have a conversation about superhero safety.”

He laughed, but it was cut off by a groan of pain. “We can probably do that.”

And unsurprisingly, your first date was on a Tuesday.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem!reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker reader insert #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man reader insert #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Do you have any sort of, words of encouragement, for a Greek-American who is struggling to learn Greek? My family is pretty connected to our heritage but I was never taught to speak Greek. I am an adult now, and I know I'm at an incredible disadvantage trying to learn a new language. The most discouraging thing is when I try to pronounce a word with a sound that isn't really in English (like γ) and I KNOW I am not saying it right, but no matter how hard I try I can't pronounce it correctly.

Hello! I'm very sorry for delaying this answer for some days, but as we see here, Zeus was fucked this week 😅

I will pin my answer so you can see it when you return, and the rest will be under the cut.

I believe there are MANY reasons for hope in this situation. Of course it feels very discouraging that you don't know the language already and you might feel left behind in this process. Plus, learning a new language is not an easy thing to learn. But worry not!

You are grown, and that means you can learn a language better and with more consistency and discipline. Have trust in your skills as an adult. What is more, you have grown up around Greek speakers and you will pick up certain things faster.

You are not alone in feeling this way. Most of the world has to learn a second language (and a third, as it's usual for many) and that would be the language most dominant in the wider area. Almost every person in the West who is not an English speaker has to learn English and learn it well, otherwise we feel embarrassed every time we try and form a sentence. For example, we apologize to each other about our accents in English German and French, even though we speak Greek.

Surely there are some differences between your situation and ours, but I mentioned this to show you that most people will be very understanding with accents because they have the same struggle. I mean, I'm not going to make fun of someone for having an accent in Greek when I sound like a demented chicken in German, despite taking years of lessons 😵 I have more confidence in my English but even now that I'm writing to you in this language I have to quadruple-check my sentences and phrasing. The amount of times I apologized in advance for my accent to English speakers is higher than my credit.

I relayed your situation to other Greek speakers and non-English speakers, and ALL agreed the accent is not anything they would pay attention to and told me to write you that you shouldn't feel bad about that. I did that because I knew they would have words of encouragement for you. And it turns out they believe exactly what I'm writing in this answer.

Accents are natural. You cannot expect not to have an accent when you have been speaking a different language all your life. Beating yourself up for having difficulty with the Greek pronunciation is like beating yourself up for something normal like walking or laughing when hearing something funny. You lack practice with the pronunciation due to circumstances beyond your control. You are doing what you can to change that, and every small win is worth celebrating!

I found this post the other day:

The notes? The likes?

And NO disagreements in the comments and reblogs for OP’s statement! Look how many thousands are supportive in this! (And that’s a small fraction of people who understand accents are natural.) And some of the responses:

Sure, some mention they have met native speakers who made it more difficult to feel comfortable with their accent and phrasing. But those people are assholes in general, and not the people you want to surround yourself with. If a relative expresses disgust about your accent remind them you didn’t have any control of how much and how well you were taught Greek when you were a kid, and then tell them that if they are a true friend and relative to you, they should support you in your journey. And even if you had some control and chose not to learn, you are learning now. So they should leave their resentment behind because, honestly, what do they have to lose from you learning the language better??

For the embarrassment you feel for yourself: you wouldn't make fun of a Greek for having trouble with the “r”, "s", “ch”, and possibly the "h" when speaking English, so extend that kindness to yourself when you speak Greek. Not to mention that with enough practice and time you can nail the accent!

Worst case scenario, if the accent never leaves, that's no problem whatsoever. Anyone who thinks badly of you for your accent is probably a PoS and they don't deserve your time. No matter where you are from, if they make you feel bad for having an accent in Greek, block them from your mind forever.

But chances are that (from experience) if anyone laughs with how you said something, I guarantee they are not laughing at you but because of how strange the sound or phrasing was. The person doesn't think badly of you because of this. Making mistakes of any kind when learning a language is very natural and it's something everyone must accept. If you are not willing to make mistakes and expose your language vulnerabilities to people who know the language better, might as well not try improving at all.

If anyone corrects you, they are not doing it out of pity. The majority of Greeks do it because they are very happy you speak the language and want you to be even more fluent. Like, they are doing it as an act of backing you up, they are feeling like they are giving you that extra XP to reach the next level! Others - like me - get that rush of happiness when they get to share their language with others 😁

I remember a guy on Tiktok who was learning Greek and ordered a coffee "without sugar" in a Greek cafe but instead of saying σκέτο ("without") he said σκατά ("shit"). I mean damn that was funny! I remember it weeks after I saw the video of him telling that story and it always cracks me up. Do I still appreciate him the same as before and follow him? Absolutely! He just had an unfortunate - and funny - incident, not something that lessened his integrity as a person.

From tiktok again: An American girl wanted to pronounce γύρος correctly when ordering it, and she was mumbling to herself on camera: “yeero, yeero, yeero!!” When her time to order came she shouted “May I have a gairow? FUUUUCKK FUUCK FUCK I SAID IT WRONG” 🤣

Another example is Athena from the Bachelor 2! She has given some gems throughout the show because she doesn't know the language that well, but everyone still loves her because she spreads positivity and is so cute!! If we, as viewers, disliked her it would be because of her character, not because she doesn't know the language well. And if some of the other girls in the show don’t take her seriously is because she laughs too much and mentions feta too often, not due to her Greek level of literacy. Athena, even when she is hurting someone else’s feelings, is always so genuine and you just can’t be mad at her!

I really can’t stretch enough how people laugh at the mishap, not the person! Please don’t feel discouraged if you ever see a Greek laughing with the pronunciation of an English speaker when it comes to Greek words (which I have done as well) because we never laugh at the speakers. We don’t even know them! We might laugh at one mistake but then instantly want to become this individual’s friends because we think they are amazing (see the three examples I mentioned above, the sugar guy, the gyro girl and Athena). Because that’s the normal thing to do; laugh at fun stuff and not judge people for their small mishaps. (In a casual setting, and not to an uncomfortable degree ofc!)

There are so many things to a person other than their accent and the accent becomes old news really fast. What remains is how the presence of a person makes you feel and if they are a good individual. If an English speaking friend says yatakai instead of γατάκι that opens the way for sooo many jokes! Greeks will laugh, do some YATAKAAIIII screams - ninja style, and then continue being friends with that person!

Greeks makes these mistakes as well... A Greek once said "arrive arrive" (φτάνει φτάνει) instead of "enough" when an English speaker was filling his glass. A Lower English degree caught fire that day 🤣 I have many bad examples of Greeks’ mistakes in English but I can’t remember a lot. But I’ve seen many videos of Greeks mocking themselves for how they sound in English. You can take a look at Tsipras’ (our former prime minister) mistakes on youtube if you are feeling brave 😂 (Ο Τσίπρας μιλάει Αγγλικά)

So, own your possible mistakes, laugh at them and move on because everyone makes them and we better have some good while we are struggling!

(( For the record, we are not making fun of Tsipras because of his accent, but because 1) he doesn’t know γρι English and yet he rarely brought a translator with him in international meetings with world leaders, 2) he could absolutely not hold a conversation with negotiating or discussing 3) he didn’t take steps to improve or fix the situation (like bring a translator). 4) Instead, he chose to torment us all with mind-numbing hours of reading English texts and making other world leaders struggle to explain to him what they meant for the nth time and meetings move at a snail pace.))

Alright, now that I cringed with the memory of Tsipras speaking English, I’ll go though the recommendations for improving the Greek pronunciation.

1) Go to my resources for learning Greek (#learn greek) where I have many videos where you can hear the sounds individually or withing other words very clearly. Easy Greek on youtube has excellent videos about pronunciation!

2) Seek practice as much as possible. Some Greeks switch to English when they hear an English accent to make the conversation smoother for the other person. If Greek speakers insist on talking with you in English tell them that you would wish to speak in Greek. I've seen that people often mirror the accent of the native speaker when they speak to one, so this might work for you as well with hours of practice. If no Greek speakers are available to you now, you can find Greek Americans online – or go to their festivals – and start talking to them.

3) Listen to Greek podcasts, songs and shows. (In my blog you’ll find them at #greek youtuber #podcast #greek tv #greek movie #short film #greek music). You know when you hear a catchy foreign song and then it’s stuck in your head and you say all the words perfectly without even knowing what it means? Well, this helps with pronunciation!

4) If you had Spanish in school or have Spanish friends mimicking the Spanish accent might help you. (Our accents are extremely close! The Spanish are the best at Greek pronunciation, and vice versa!)

5) Find sounds in your native language that sound close to the sounds you want to say in Greek. In German lessons I had trouble with “ch” in certain words because I made it sound like χ and it was horrible. My Greek teacher told me to remember how χ sounds in χήνα (it sounds a bit flatter) and make that sound when I encountered “ch”. It worked actually!

To people who have English as their native language I often suggest they remember the sound of w for γ because, although not used the same in the word, at times they have the same intensity. Γ is pronounced more “to the front” of the mouth, so if you can bring that sound forward in your mouth you’ll be very close, if not accurate, to γ. (But don’t bring it too much forward, sometimes it can sound like a “y”, unless you are saying a word where γ sounds like “y”).

Greeks pronounce σ more closely to “sh” than to “s”, so you also might want to keep that in mind since σ often distinguishes the Greek accent in English for me :p

That’s all! If you have more questions or want to tell me anything else about your experience with learning Greek, feel free to send another ask or a DM!

#answered #learn greek #pronunciation #encouragement

[wannaholdhandswithfictionalmen]

Can I send a request for a fic with venti and a gender neutral mc? It's not really meant to be romantic or anything along those lines. I've just been constantly thinking about how the mc was stripped of everything, including their wings when they lost their fight against the unknown god, and how the gliders might have brought them a bit of comfort when trying to get accustomed to Mondstadt.

Something more heartfelt, maybe the mc just talking to venti after a late night out, or just waking up in the middle of the night to take a stroll in peace away from paimon, amber and the rest of the Chaotic knights of favonious.

This is more of a prompt if anything- I dont usually send requests so I dont know how to format them- sorry about that :'0

A/n: first time writing Venti. Oof. Hopes it's alright and anon I hope this is close to what you wanted.

Genre: Angst. Some fluff. (The power of friendship.)

Warning: It gets a bit angsty before it get softer.

Summary: The reality of your circumstances of the trapped traveler get you and Venti offers you some advice and comfort as your friend.

Word count: 1,420

In The Days To Come (How Much Will I Miss You?);

It was a series of perfect events, little coincidences, Paimon got distracted a while back by the smell of food, fluttering off with 'Delicious. Tasty food! Paimon will be back' before vanishing from your side. The knight of Favonius had no urgent problems to ask for your aid with now that the Dvalin has been saved and Mondstadt and its people can rest easy. You finally had time to yourself, time to feel and think of your new reality. 

It was the gentlest tug, pull of melancholy it crept up slowly, slowly, slowly all day nipping at your heels until you felt it from your toes to your head. Numbness, so empty at first then came sadness buried deep, ignored for days for the sake of saving others, making sure others were happy, living in their home, with their family-- while you were still missing yours. It felt unfair. Resentment and anger reared their ugly heads, howling like starving, ravenous beats. 

What an overwhelming torrent of emotion, waves after wave, lapping at your chin, your mouth, your nose. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking. No. Drowning. 

Until there was nothing but a muffled, muted haze of the world around you. 

If you nodded and 'hm', 'yes', 'sure', 'okay' your way through passing conversations no one noticed. Oh, how kind, brave and stoic the traveler was! Our hero! Maybe you didn't want to be a hero. You just wanted your sibling back. 

Gliding from the highest building in Mondstadt in the dead of night, you could close your eyes, imagine it, see it, your wings, the wind through your hair, the laughter of your best friend, your constant companion, your sibling-- 'I am absolutely certain, I can beat you!', 'Ha! How hilarious. You just try to keep up!' 

Then your feet hit the cobblestone of Mondstadt, your eyes snap open and that dream, that wish, all of it shatters into the most fragile fragments, fading away, slipping out of your mind, no matter how hard you try to grasp onto it, hold it close. Gone. 

You just want to cry. 

Figures it would be Venti who just so happens to find you. In the late hours of the night, every minute passes towards that too late but also too early threshold of time. 

He is whistling, then humming a gentle, soft song. Lyrics and melody unknown to you, deft, nimble fingers strum quiet, easy notes from his lyre. 

Quiet footsteps approaching your seating form, nearly hunched over a ledge outlooking most of Mondstadt from this peak near the cathedral and the statue of your friend, it was still a little odd to think of Venti, the whimsical, chaotic bard as a god but easier to wrap your mind around given the fact you had traveled to many different realms and worlds in the past. 

"How lucky I am to find a lone traveler, perhaps I could provide you with some company?" Venti interrupts his little performance to sit down beside you, cradling his lyre in his hands, you don't really have the energy to even answer or protest his presence even if you wanted. 

"Did you catch a bit of my new tune? I must work on something that will blow away even Master Diluc! Perhaps enough for a night of free drinks in the tavern in exchange for the request of my music!" Venti exclaims rather determinedly as always, especially when it came to getting the best wine possible, for free as well. The lengths he'd be willing to go is almost admirable in a way. 

Your answering silence, no laugh, huff or even a scoff at his expense nor a head shake, roll eyes. Nothing. 

"Ah poor traveler, your gloom could bring down even the brightest flowers bloom, what has doubled your trouble?" Even his joking yet sincere rhyming can't bring much of a reaction to your face and that eats away at Venti. Never one to want his friends to suffer, not if he is there to help in whatever way he can. 

Venti loses his playful, mischievous nature for the moment in favor of being serious. It's then he is more Anemo Archon then Venti the bard. 

"What is wrong, friend?" 

One tear is followed by many others, everything rushes to the surface, you shake, tremble, break under the weight of your own sorrow. Sobbing out to the blinking stars far, far away. 

"What if my sibling is gone forever? What if I never find any clues, signs? What if I spend the rest of my life trapped here, searching and searching?" You sound half hysterical with grief and worry, rambling out every doubt, insecurity you have kept so tightly hidden away. Because everyone else had their own problems and all the problems they wanted you to solve. 

"Years side by side, through every trouble, every battle, every adventure, journey, they were always with me. Now? I am alone. My power, my wings, my sibling taken from me." You sniff and cough, squeezing your eyes shut as the world around your blurs and become a mess of colors. 

"I am tired. I am scared. Why do I always have to be brave? Strong? My whole life has been turned upside down and I have barely had time to adjust! To take all of this in, it feels like every person I meet needs my help for something unrelated to finding my only family!" You can't help the way your words turn exhausted and bitter. 

Venti waits and listens to your venting without interruption. It's only once he is sure you have let it all out that he speaks. 

"There is no shame in your sorrow, your pain. You have been thrown into a situation unfamiliar and unless anything you have experienced before and you are being forced to endure this without your closest friend, your sibling." Venti's tone is slow, decisive as if he is giving every single word meticulous thought. 

"You are incorrect to assume that means you are alone. You have new friends here, people who care about you, your journey and your goal. Paimon, Me, Jean, Lisa, Diluc, Kaeya, Amber, we all care for you. And you will have our support whenever you need it. Without question." The finality and firmness of his statement leaves no room for argument. 

You realize and recognize the truth in his words and Venti stays by your side, in the quiet night as you cry and cry, relieving the tangled knot of everything you had let grow, fester and linger for so long, even before you found Paimon. 

Venti plays a soothing harmony, a mellow, delicate dance of the strings of his lyre and his soft voice, singing; something just for you, for the moment of trust and sharing between two friends. It is a lovely, comforting song as your tears begin to dry and the burden on you is lessened for now. 

It's easy to smile and hum along with Venti as if you've heard this a dozen times.

You have no idea what is awaiting you on the journey, what struggles you will face, what obstacles and hardships that will cause you to stumble and fall but you do have friends who will be there to pick you back up again and again.

"Paimon just enjoyed a juicy, sweet, savory meal! (Name) you should have join- wait a minute!" Paimon takes one look at you and her cheeks puff out in anger, it's too cute to be truly scary but the glares she shoots at Venti is fiercely defensive. 

"What did you do tone-deaf bard?!" 

You laugh, reaching out to take hold of Paimon, you hug her gentle. Paimon squeaks out in surprise but you feel her tiny arms gently squeeze your neck. 

"I have done nothing wrong, this time." Venti had paused his private little song, ensuring it was something meant to be shared between you two just like this night would be a shared memory to look back on. 

Paimon wiggles away from you, floating before you, you watch her stick her tongue out at Venti, blowing and making a hilarious show of her disbelief. "Paimon doesn't believe you! Apologize to them now!" 

In the ensuing 'fight' between Venti and Paimon, you watch Venti reach forward and pinch her cheek and the small girl lunged at him in a failed attempt to choke him, you are sure, Venti holds her back with a hand over her face. 

You laugh. 

Yeah, you had friends and you weren't alone. 

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