#well not incredibly but its like. ouch
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Just sketched for today's prompt. Oh my god
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PROXIMITY
male reader x chou tzuyu
25k words
You’re not a bad person. And you know how that sounds apropos of nothing - defensive, unscrupulous - but it’s true. You’re like anybody else: full of mistakes, but good, mostly.
You are also aware of the way she looks at you. None of that has changed.
The slight quirk at the corner of her lips. A flicker, a smirk. A game, all doe-eyed and deep dimpled - she's playing the seduction one. It isn’t subtle, and you're losing by proxy. So you're backtracking, drawing your conclusions; you're reading into the line of her jaw, the fall of her hair. Measuring the weight behind each blink.
"You were wrong by the way," Tzuyu starts, indifferent. Through some act of divine retribution, she laughs. "Because to tell you the truth, I used to have, like, the biggest crush on you."
She’s young, and - well, she’s a lot of things. A terrible idea. Incredibly off-limits. She is anathema, red tape, an original sin. You shake your head at her, smile fading - which for anyone keeping score, is an admonishment, however faint.
Because Chou Tzuyu, you recognize, is categorically, unequivocally: never supposed to happen.
-
If you want a read on your current dilemma, then this is how it pans out:
You’re walking headfirst into one of the multiple terrible, terrible scenarios you've probably had an anxiety dream about. It’s an ambush, really.
There’s the text from Mina, explaining all the ins and outs of her winter hideaway, the logistical whereabouts, and the pinched photo from the outside, the endless winding driveway, the clearing in the woods. The remote location, the unfussed snow, the towering trees. There are no neighbors to speak of, just seclusion and isolation and that makes you, among the seven billion or whatever, the only one who will know precisely how fucked you are.
The door to the cabin swings open on its hinges. You kick the snow off your boots, and the air smells indistinctly of peppermint tea.
It’s a cozy place, you think. A slightly rustic aesthetic. There’s a pair of skis decommissioned over the mantle. Mina, as usual, has good taste. You peek around: the foyer, the open living space, the wood finishes, the sunken fireplace. You almost make out a bathroom, through a half-opened doorway - and the kitchen, maybe, is nestled around the far corner.
You settle in, find your bearings, and start taking these leisurely steps down the hall.
That’s when you see her. Wearing a sweater that's a size too big, draped over her frame - sleeves tucked, exposing the barest hint of skin on her wrists, her delicate fingertips. You blink once, twice. That’s a dangerous flare. The rest of her, this canvas of pale skin and soft, endless legs, the hollowed stretch of inner thigh-
Actually, you know what, you are going to delete that out of your mind; as far as you're concerned, Tzuyu absolutely does not have her long, satin-like mahogany hair spilling over her shoulder, her bare legs poking out from under that bulky cotton blend, and she definitely, very absolutely has not given you a complete lack of boundaries, so it's more than plausible for her to slide onto a stool near the countertop with her painted-toes peeking out from beneath the folded press of her thigh (the pedicure, really, now?) and look over at you like you aren’t perfectly familiar with that goddamn face. Those eyes, that jaw.
And her collarbone is out too. Ouch.
Tzuyu rests her chin in one of her perfectly manicured hands, and tilts her head: she’s very blatantly checking you out.
The problem is, you’ve recognized her immediately.
Which - god, the bottom-lines, the blurred borders. It’s been years. She's twenty-three, twenty-four now, and as it turns out, she's taller than you remember. She's thinner, taller, actually a bit filled out too-
Right, okay, no. Just. Delete that image from the internal memory.
"Oh," you breathe, because there's not a single thing you're sure you’re supposed to do. It takes a split second too long to put the brakes on everything in your brain and say, "Tzuyu." It takes even more control not to tack an unthinkingly fond 'miss' to the front of her name - you're a god-honest lost hope - but at the last minute, you settle for, "hi."
It’s unnatural. She's actually somehow prettier than you remember, and the tousled brown curls flowing down her shoulder make it worse. She smiles, gently; this soft-spoken, "hey."
She’s at the kitchen island, holding a bowl of cereal and looking at you like she’s taking inventory. The strap of her bra is black, loose around the curve of her left shoulder; she's barefoot. Any other context, and it's your favorite kind of combination, basically: casual and messy and haphazard. Perfect. She's so tall, christ.
"We've met a few times," and she's not even phrasing it as a question - because she knows for a fact that you know her - and now, well, you can see how that's a problem.
"Yeah." You drop your bags. "Nobody said anything about anyone being here, so, I'm just a little-"
“Relieved?” Tzuyu tries, and if it sounds conceited, you’ve imagined it.
“Surprised,” you amend, quickly. There is a massive amount of distance currently between the both of you - several feet and an island counter to top it off. That's good, you think.
Tzuyu runs her hands over the top of her hair, a half-effort at putting it up into some sort of a ponytail, or maybe a bun. You see now that her nails are bare. "I'd heard from Mina," she starts, "that Sana was coming here-"
And you watch, absentmindedly, as Tzuyu slides down off her chair. You watch her too carefully almost, for a beat. You want to follow the length of her legs with the same ease and shamelessness - like it's instinct or just expected; it's ridiculous and wrong to think, but-
"-with, uh, someone. She left it purposefully vague." Tzuyu finishes, then pauses. Her gaze slides across you. If the awkward stretch of silence is weird, she doesn't comment on it. “Then I heard the flight got delayed because of all the snow."
"Just Sana’s," you correct, and that's not information you should be simply giving away. She just stands there, blinking up at you.
"Huh," she says, eyebrow lifted - slower than is explicitly necessary, “so you’re like. All alone until she gets here.” She simply eats a spoonful of cereal, chews for a moment, and adds, “bummer.”
It’s true, in some sense. You sigh, rake a hand back through your hair, and your jacket falls further down on one of your shoulders; she drops her gaze down, almost imperceptibly, following the motion.
There is definitely a point where you could take notice of a lot of things, and they include, but are certainly not limited to: the fucking languor with which she is licking the yogurt off the back of her spoon, her stupidly long eyelashes fanning on the tops of her cheeks when she glances down, the frankly risque neckline of her sweater. Those kinds of things. Those kinds of details. Really, you wouldn’t dare.
"It sounds like she’ll be getting in tomorrow evening," you decide to inform her, though she didn't ask, and now she nods, focusing still on the yogurt and granola at the bottom of her bowl.
You walk into the kitchen. Rap your knuckles on the countertop. Tzuyu’s right there, and your mind is filling up with images you could really do without. That's the unfortunate, traitorous nature of all this: in any universe, Chou Tzuyu fawns over you. And she will, on accident or purpose, test you. And as for your hesitation - that's an instinct that gets activated every time you so much as meet Tzuyu in person, this invasive little impulse.
"Well," Tzuyu says, way too casually. “It’s just us then.”
"Yeah." you agree, stilted. “Just us.”
"There's wine," she decides, tilts her head. Then, matter of factly, "and coffee, hot cocoa. Mina’s more or less stocked on everything."
Her voice hits the room all nice, sweet, syrupy - god, fuck, maybe there's a window or a door here somewhere that you're supposed to open to clear the air, but when you look, there’s frost on the glass; it’s the subalpine frigidity. Tzuyu flashes you this other sort of glance - her teeth scrape the rounded spoon's tip before her lips fully fix around it. The drowsy, delirious feeling is almost involuntary at this point.
"I should unpack my things, is what I should do, probably," and now you are saying things for the sake of saying them, as an escape. "Hey, seriously. Sorry for the inconvenience."
“Don’t be,” she tells you. "The weather isn't anybody's fault."
(Here, a premonition. You look at Tzuyu, who raises an eyebrow back.)
The next logical move is: leave. Tzuyu folds her long limbs back up onto the stool, and you're - trying not to look. You're also trying not to do it consciously, actively - you're not, and not. You fail, like you did a few years ago, too - the eyes have a bad habit of wandering. She's made of porcelain, all thin wrists, thin neck, soft curves and delicate lines. She's made out of glass - she’s at her most dangerous when you’ve gone and broken her.
It’s possible, you think, she could break you too.
-
Look, contextually - it’s Murphy’s law, or maybe your own very specific curse. A lot of stuff happens, so here’s a rough draft, your best effort at an approximation, a smudged-pencil sketch:
Tzuyu has been on vacation in the Alps from the start of the week, or maybe the week prior - she's alone in this stupidly big cabin you're supposed to be meeting Sana in for two weeks and change of pure unadulterated, hedonistic fun. Skiing, lounging, stargazing, drinking, screwing, consummating a situationship. You know the drill.
However there ends up being an actual, literal avalanche - with snow and rocks and ice and whatever the fuck - the power goes out, and you can only assume the whole mountain's gone dark. It's like a classic, a cautionary tale: hey, dude, you're on vacation with this drop-dead gorgeous girl who will let you do whatever you want to her - in the name of love and lust and a loosely legal liability. She says she'll be yours forever, except you also heard her say that the universe is entitled to laugh at you, a bit - so you do something you'll regret (which, okay, you've done countless things you'll regret) and now you're getting punished for it, and so is the stunning temptress currently shivering in the bed next to you. Seriously, whatever you do, do not fuck her, don't let her get too attached, because oh, man - Tzuyu really likes to make herself comfortable, huh? To nestle herself into your arms, let her hand stroke circles in the dark fabric of your t-shirt, warm her cold nose into your chest, and cuddle the night away. She's so easy to give in to, isn't she? This walking, talking paradox of everything she's not supposed to be and everything she'll willingly do anyway - there's her expression, placid and rapturous in equal measures, the sleepy mumbles against your skin that sound like prayers, her damp breaths.
You should know better. You should know that this is the universe, laughing its ass off at you.
And just for the record, there is sound reason for everyone to feel, in some sense, extremely concerned by the narrative that your life has slowly, unceremoniously devolved itself into.
The first time you meet Chou Tzuyu is years ago. She’s dramatically, devastatingly, problematically, young.
It was all happening before you could really clock it, and it was morally reprehensible, and it was, in fact, probably all your own doing.
And it’s even more obvious in retrospect: how she would react to the way you reach back and ruffle your hair when you laugh, the casual appeal of your smile, the depths of your tone, how you cut it as close as you can get it. A girl will trip all over herself to let you look after her; that’s the basic blueprint, that's the default. See, you're in your twenties, an adult - not having figured out much, but having certainly figured out this - and it's very much not lost on you that the girl should not be flirting with you - but she does, and the very worst of it is: you let her.
“Are you out of your mind?” Jihyo had said at the time, and, in fairness, yeah. That more or less sums it up.
So you end up making a point of never getting to know her, to always keep the conversation nonexistent. Or in the worst case scenario, brief - on surface level topics. The weather. Your job. Food. If you like her sunglasses. (They look protective, you’d told her, very practical. Very safe.) It's the essentials, a light, professional rapport - never once crossing the border from casual conversation to candid disclosure.
She's infatuated, of course. You're not mincing words here. It's actually rather unfortunate, how gone she is for you. You could’ve probably stood to dial it back; you, and your charm. Your smiles.
Because Chou Tzuyu was however many years young, very much off-limits - and like a lot of people it seems, totally hooked on your whole deal.
-
(Theoretically, that's how it all starts. Which is why, pragmatically, you will never, ever lay a finger on her.)
-
So, the plan to get through this was simple and to the point and as follows:
* Avoid unnecessary physical contact
* Maintain social distance, in fact - something covid-esque sounds great, about six feet
* Do not offer opinions/advice unless specifically asked
* Minimize speaking, just to be safe
* Do not exchange gifts, especially personal ones
* Be wary of the temptation to take a voluntarily-tipsy Tzuyu to bed, because you'll want to - and god knows Tzuyu will make it extremely clear that you could; this is exactly how shit turns south-
* Adjust and reframe
* Reinforce
* Remind yourself
* To just fucking think about literally anything else
It was working fine, so far - really fine, especially if you consider how early into the stay you're sitting there, telling yourself off in the bathroom mirror, get it together, you dumbass. What is wrong with you, don’t you know better by now - before an unapologetic knock on the door snaps you out of it, and the click of the door opening a moment later forces a heavy inhale from your chest: you just need a fucking second, thanks - not a half-decent excuse or a rearrangement, not a careful restructure, just a split second in your own head; that's not even the sort of thing you're prone to needing, because it's you, but with Chou fucking Tzuyu-
A soft breathy laugh, "are you okay in here?"
Tzuyu pokes her head into the room, her hair a wavy curtain that tumbles down past the middle of her back. You have this vague, fleeting impulse to run your fingers through it.
"Well," and there goes all the shit you'd managed not to think about, or contemplate, or dwell upon for that one glorious, naive, misinformed second. "Sort of," you say, offering her a quick glance.
"Really?" Tzuyu says, not catching onto the whole existential crisis thing. "Is there anything else you need? I mean," and then your eyes fall upon her; she's put a sweater on, pants, which all things considered, is a huge victory, a total rout - her baggy sweater drapes on her, practically brushing her thigh where the material stops, the hem. "I guess not, just. Um," her teeth catch her bottom lip for a quick moment, and this time she glances back towards the hall, the granite-finish tiles. "Wanna make s'mores?"
"What," you ask, because honestly, what the actual fuck-
"I went into town to get fresh groceries earlier this week. Everything just kinda landed in my cart," she says, the beginning of an explanation - the backstory, if you will. "And there's a fireplace. Momo always says the calories don't count if it's social eating, so." She makes a small shrug.
"Oh,” you say, like you understand. Your throat feels tight. “She’s totally right.”
She offers you a small nod. Tucks her hair behind her ear. You wonder if she knows how suggestive even the smallest of gestures she makes are; and more so, if she does it knowingly, or simply without thought - if it's a facet of her own effortlessness.
"Um," you say, for no particular reason other than that Tzuyu is fucking distracting. "Okay."
The edges of her mouth tick upwards at that. "We could put something on the tv,” she suggests. “For the vibe."
"Oh yeah, for the ambience."
"For the ambience," she nods.
(And fuck her, seriously. You might be a goner already.)
-
"A winter weather advisory," Tzuyu reads, squinting slightly at the tv. A minute later: "Just stay home," followed by another pause, and a frown: "hail and ice too. Yeah, no kidding."
She's reading the weather report. You're pretending you have any idea how to work the fireplace while she sets her eyes on the news, hands running over the blankets she has huddled around herself - legs folded, tucked into the edge of her chest. She'd gotten as far as logging into her Netflix account before the suggestion of cuddling was so obviously implied, her hands patting the cushioned space beside her that you were required by moral law to flip through the cable options until you found the least sexy, least rom-com-y option you could find: a newscaster reporting on the ongoing inclement weather, a forecaster saying 'near zero chance of improving, so travel is heavily discouraged, we strongly advise against-'
"Wonder if Sana's even going to make it," Tzuyu breaks the relative silence, and you are acutely aware of how casual she has been referring to Sana, the complete and utter lack of jealousy or any emotion related - or you guess, inspired. She's not even the slightest bit irked. “If the airport opens, maybe," she adds, and, after a beat, "let's hope."
-
It gets colder. You can barely see three feet past the front door. The forecast only gets worse, the storm intensifies and swells, it snows and snows - and this isn't a cottage somewhere on the lake, you're a couple miles down a single-track, woodsy road, far, far away from society.
-
If only these walls could talk, honestly. You're like, caught in a moment. With Tzuyu and marshmallows and these tiny, sticky wooden skewers. This is a story you will tell nobody, ever.
"I don’t mean to say I told you so," she says, but it comes out with a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker, and marshmallow, which sort of takes the bite out of it. "But the movie is a little more entertaining."
You pretend like you weren't staring at her mouth a beat prior. "Right, a cinematic masterpiece."
Tzuyu tugs a marshmallow off the stick, and looks over at you again. Smiles around the impromptu pastry. She's just such a bright, wholesome thing - soft-hearted, selfless, so innocuous and so pleasant. It's absolutely sick. You have a fucking pavlovian response to Tzuyu simply existing.
And you’re pretending like the white, tacky remains on her mouth haven't permanently solidified that look into memory: the melted chocolate, the whipped sugar, the dimple. You could really do without this specific feeling - for however much longer it'll last, should the storm linger.
"You don’t ever have stuff like this, just for a quiet, carefree time?" Tzuyu licks it off her skin, and the question kind of drags your attention elsewhere.
You breathe in, slow.
Maybe she can feel it too, you think. Because Tzuyu drags the pad of her thumb against her bottom lip, and a question she doesn't ask flickers to life in her gaze: if you'll break or not, if there is an absolute limit.
But it’s impossible to read her. Tzuyu takes up this real easy-going disposition, all quiet and stoic, sort of, and maybe that's the dangerous part of her - the stillness. Other moments, she has this uncanny knack for conversation. She's charming in that way, you have always thought, a bright face. She has a keen understanding of things too - maybe sometimes too much; maybe a little bit beyond her years, really, a little too knowledgeable.
"When the gang does," you answer, diplomatically. “Sure, I suppose.”
There's another smile at that, which is how you know that the back and forth, this coolly cool, somewhat-stiff exchange is sort of becoming a game. A bet on who cracks, who turns. She won't tell you it's you, and you'll never in your right mind acknowledge her. It's some version of honesty. A bit like Russian roulette.
"I used to think we were friends, you know," she muses, like it's some great mystery - all very deliberately cryptic. Like it's funny.
"Hey, you were like, a teenager," you're grasping at straws. You’re spinning the bullet round the conversational chamber. “And I have this thing-”
"You have a thing?" Her eyebrow is raised again - sweetly challenging.
"-like, a principle, a standard - if there's nothing there, and let's face it: there's really not something here-"
"Aw," Tzuyu fakes pouting, which is simultaneously very mean and also like, painfully hot, and she makes this pitiful coo, "you really have nothing to say at all, do you."
Which. Fuck, she’s right. The 'thing' here is the no touching, the no messing, the no making anything resembling a move. She's sitting over there with her mouth covered in sugar, batting her goddamn eyelashes. Which you ignore, thank god for impulse control, or the instinct of it, and Tzuyu pushes a graham cracker past her lips to placate her own expression.
And so it goes. She keeps looking at you and looking and looking and you stare, transfixed, back at her. The edges of her jaw, the rise of her nose, the jutting curve of her collarbone; you say something dumb or clever and you're making her laugh, and every time she does, her teeth catch on her bottom lip and you could really do with a distraction right now, but it's impossible not to flirt.
It's just the way the universe has constructed you - this starvation, a twisted desire. There’s cruelty in the design.
-
(Things take a turn for the worse, of course. You don’t know how, but she gets to you agree that you two should've gotten closer in all that time-
"Well, I’m sure you were just so busy," you'd shrugged, indifferent, and she'd pressed the sleeve of her sweater to her mouth, just to hide how bright the smile was.
-which, honestly, fuck you - given all the context. Because now she's right here in the cabin; she's an arm's length away, and all this time, you've meant to stay the fuck out of reach.)
-
Tzuyu does the worst thing. She returns from the kitchen, hands full, with two squat tumblers and a bottle of dark brandy. She sets one down next to you and asks if you want some.
You look. You mean, what are you even supposed to do? It's a catch twenty-two, it's a joke - what can a girl be thinking, standing there. Bending the right way, hair framing a face like hers.
Yeah, sure - it’s the voice of someone who's slipping, who’s gonna say the same thing three more times. "Hm, why not."
The ice clinks against the glass. Then, the pour. Toast to good health, a clean conscience, safe passage; you’ll take whatever you can get.
You watch Tzuyu knock back an impressive amount and make an impressive face. There’s maturity there, you cope. Because you want to touch her jaw, thumb over her cheekbone, breathe baby, it's too strong, slow down on her lips, watch her mouth open slightly-
The fire pops.
She leans toward you. “Are you going to keep stealing stories from me, or are you going to supply anything good to the discussion?"
"About me, personally?" you say, purposefully pedantic.
Tzuyu’s smirk is half-present, half-playful. She sets down her tumbler on a coaster - Mina would be appreciative - and hums at you. “What do you think I mean?”
"I was really hoping the inflection would help clarify."
She levels a gaze with you. You fight back for a hot second - this slow-burning heat under the skin, your resolve threatening to buckle, shatter, spill itself everywhere - and in the end, she is the one that looks away, softly laughing, a pfft under her breath. You’re left the opportunity to just - look. See where the glow from the wood-burning fire has cast this gorgeous gold over her face, all her defined curves, her delicate features.
"I don't care, it could be anything," she poses, settling back into the pillows. Smiling. "Please. Entertain me."
Her cheeks are rosy. You realize, quite suddenly, you are not totally sober either. This is exactly how Sana talked you into something however many moons ago, then however many moons later, surgically unattached all the strings. Sana’s good at talking. At convincing. And you don't do shots like her, or apparently like Tzuyu does - but hell, it's that maddening, pretty little dimple of hers - the one that's always there when she does her mischievous smirk - a deeply devastating look, a devil-may-care demeanor, and you're dead-drunk on it, honestly.
"Want me to talk about Sana?" you offer, "seems like an obvious choice."
"I think you’re projecting," Tzuyu teases. “You just miss her, I'm sure.”
"Mhm. Sure."
Tzuyu makes a noise halfway between a chuckle and a snort, and draws the blankets more tightly around her. "What," she says, nonplussed, "who doesn't want to hear some gossip about their friends?"
You're fucking up, right? Fucking up the same way you did years ago when you caught the wrong kind of feeling for an entirely, altogether inappropriate woman. But you'll blame the drinks. And the mood. And the ambience, the fucking fire that's almost suffocating, the closeness of her body next to you-
"Hey," you say, and it's such a mistake. You're pointing to a spot on your chin. You're making it worse. "You got a little, uh-"
You watch as she lifts her hand, glides it through the air - brushes her own cheek with her fingertips, smoothing out an imagined blemish.
"Did I get it?"
"Uh, well, sorta-" and she knows you’re lying.
Tzuyu tries again. Comes up short, and when her hair falls in front of her face, she’s looking at you like maybe you’ll help take care of that too. She’s a total fucking coquette - though maybe she hasn’t even done it on purpose, maybe she's just that unaware, innocent. Not the second one, you figure. You're leaning, tilting closer and closer to her - in any other scenario, there'd be the shortest possible time between her touching herself and you, cupping her jaw with one of your hands.
But your mouth feels like it's moving of its own accord. "No, wait, let me help you," you continue, before you know it.
Isn’t it disastrous; all ice and hazard, this is the advisory in effect; a napoleon-goes-to-russia caliber calamity, a colossal write off, a write in. You could have, should have stopped, except you didn't and now you're reaching, gently, until your palm cups the side of her face - until you press, until you hold her steady. Her head tilts. She lets you, blinking up. Her eyes are this hazy, intoxicated coffee-brown, honeyed and burnt and fucking beautiful.
You swipe your thumb along her bottom lip. The gesture is slow, languid, intentional; you think, through some cosmic error, that might just be the end of it.
"There," you say, smiling, naive.
"Yeah," Tzuyu breathes out, and she winds her fist into the fabric of your shirt. "Thanks."
You lean, or she does; you go down, or she pulls you; there's no difference, really.
She is kissing you, this soft little press. A tug in every direction. You hadn’t kissed her, at the very start, but when her fingers thread through your hair, gripping hard, bringing you closer until you groan, parting your lips slightly, and - and her tongue flits past yours - your brain does this wild mental leap that you ought to be questioning later.
But everything starts to sink.
One of your hands lands on her waist, thumb slipping under the hem of her sweater and pressing against bare skin, and her knee nudges between both of your legs - until Tzuyu hums this low, pretty sound in her throat. There is something fervent here, all-consuming, devouring; her mouth moves like it's frantic for air, for oxygen and fuel, and her whole body melts under yours like she's completely falling apart.
Fuck, you think. There is a deep, smouldering heat in the pit of your stomach.
Because she’s perfect. You always knew that, didn’t you. She is firelight and perfume and muted gold; everything else falls into shadow, fades into the background. Her lips are velvet-soft, and they open again and again with these heavy exhales of hot air - so much so that you have to shift the hand you'd set on her waist lower, a little, her hip bone under your palm, a touch ghosting towards the dip and the swell.
Somehow you have this knowledge: at the end of everything, it'll be her name falling helplessly off your tongue.
"You were wrong by the way,” she stops to say.
"About-" You press another kiss into her jaw, and her mouth parts around the same slow sigh. "Wait." You lean back enough to look at her again.
“Whatever you said earlier." Tzuyu’s eyes go half-lidded as she starts petting your hair back into place, thumb stroking your jawline. "I'd have made time."
Oh, christ-
"Because to tell you the truth," her tongue wets her lip, shiny, wet, "I've never really forgotten. Like I just thought, that whole thing was so… fleeting, you know, like the last time, when you let me text you - god, I was crushing so hard."
You breathe, shaking your head.
"Don’t," is what comes out of your mouth after, quick, sharpened.
“Don’t what?” Tzuyu taunts, pushing another inch further. That small grin on her face, her long, nimble fingers combing through your hair.
You are trying to think, and there was an apology, right? You'd had this one in you. The one that began as a guilty soliloquy, a rueful acknowledgement; something that should have been directed toward Tzuyu, told her, at one point, or another: look. Sorry it's like this.
But there is a hand tracing the collar of your shirt - a sensation that follows all the way to the base of your throat; you lean further into her touch, almost involuntarily - a simple motion, and yet. "You shouldn't. You shouldn't say things like that to me," and you mean: these things you already know. "It's not good."
"Doesn't feel that bad," she tells you, a breezy sort of whisper, warm. "I think I'm getting the opposite impression."
"Maybe for the wrong reasons," you remind her. And to remind yourself, actually. "Probably for the wrong reasons - trust me, it is.”
"Trust you," and it’s the slightest bit ridiculing, a tease - Tzuyu drops her smile, pulls you in by the hair, whispers low. "Sure," the syllable soft, pressed against your throat, "I trust you not to hurt me," and the 'not' gets hung on for an impossibly long moment, stretched out thin.
She's sinister; she has to be, or some amalgamation of the most potent version of every word she’s ever said. A dream girl, the definition and essence of a temptress, this shameless attraction - an insistent siren begging for your attention; the incepting mind-game; the entity that stalks the halls in the deepest trenches of the night, whispering your worst fears right into your ear. You fall further into Tzuyu, the prettiest of nightmares.
(Oh, it's the dimple that does you in, really: if there's any possible way that Chou Tzuyu has unintentionally ruined your life, she's done it with that innocent little smile.)
"You can kiss me again," Tzuyu says, permissive.
And you do. You kiss her, and kiss her like you’ve no choice - like you've decided, at least in this very moment, if Tzuyu can own a piece of your soul, you can take something too.
-
(The thing about a cautionary tale: sometimes it is really just a story. Sometimes it happens and the world is left unscathed. There were a lot of warning signs, yes. But this could be a coda, a moralistic adage, a story to turn the page on and laugh and be embarrassed by and say, oh, no, I'd definitely do better; a blip. We’d never do anything like that. It's all history, honestly.)
-
It's not romantic, and it's less gentle than you’d have expected: Tzuyu bites your lip at one point, and you grab her hip so hard she yelps. The pause in the after is filled with a provocation, a stare, a tilt of your head, and her saying, “hey, easy now.” You cup her face in your hands, and run your thumb over lips. The calm is pretty short-lived. She gets her hands working frantically to tear your shirt off over your head. Then it's a haphazard stumble into the doorframe of the bedroom, with her pulling you in too-hard by the waist, bumping your nose against hers in this rough meeting - until your lips fit together.
“Mm,” Tzuyu’s mouth pushes insistently into yours and your tongue immediately laves at its underside, coaxes it to slide against yours and soon she’s sliding forward on purpose - on her own initiative, pressing the steady line of your cock against the seam of your pants, the pressure sudden.
"Watch it," you murmur, breaking away a little to glare at her, which just makes her smile, like she likes pissing you off or something, likes watching you get mad at her, or whatever - if she says it's true, then it is, probably - she's honest.
Her small hand darts up, gripping the sides of your jaw tightly and moving in, kissing like it's easy; like she knows what the fuck she's doing. Her head tilts and she does it again, except it's a few times in a row, making out in the doorway.
"And if I say no?" She grins, hand at your dick again, just palming through the fabric and getting off on your soundless reactions to it all. "Like, is that really enough? I feel like you'd have to like - tie me up. Something - you know?"
"That sounds like a you problem."
A mischievous smile steals across her lips and you feel yourself doing the same. "Yeah, you're right," she responds, dragging her thumb and forefinger from the zipper of your jeans to the hard line of your cock, pinching gently along the shape. "It is my problem."
She feels pliant, more than willing, but it's a calculated type of softness. Still, you get a hint, a vague message and you figure, the way this girl's smirking in her lips: she likes being held down, held fast and steady, so you pin her wrists above her head - her eyes stay on you, don't drop; you pin her, and her expression becomes that shade more dark, more teasing. Oh, you'll go slowly, you think, until Tzuyu gives. You'll climb a hand further under her sweater, let it skim over her ribs. You'll kiss her again, open-mouthed, and slow, until she can't breathe.
Her head knocks into the wall, she bites and smiles like a promise, and all her muscle flexes under your grip. "Oh, seriously," Tzuyu whispers into your mouth. "Y'know, this is like a fantasy of mine.”
And that's kind of it: she has that look. In the morning, you can see yourself chasing her down into sheets - just pinning her with the weight of your whole body, feeling each tensed curve of her against you. She pulls you closer, into her; she seems the type.
"I’d really rather not hear that, Tzu.”
"And I want to hear you say please, more than anything," Tzuyu laughs at herself, something hard in it, "but I think you want to fuck me so bad, it'll come naturally. Like, the second you have your fingers inside me. And that's what you want, right? Tell me."
"I'm thinking about your legs,” you tell her, running your palm around the curve of her thigh. Fuck, she’s perfect. “Think they'd fit around my waist."
"And hook my ankles? I’d love that." Her eyes crinkle. "Is that it, though?"
"Maybe I'd keep my hand on your throat and fuck you like that, too. That's on the table."
Tzuyu laughs: a real, actual sound, but not at you. "It is. You're smart."
"To be completely transparent," you mutter. "I don't plan on asking you very nicely at all."
The lines in Tzuyu's face go a little blissful, contented, like she's so, so pleased with this, like she approves, and she kisses you again, the length of your bodies pressed together, except where her hips cant up and meet the space between your thighs. You drag a hand roughly along her waist, kneading muscle there, down to the rise of her jeans - which, fuck, you need to help her shimmy out of and find the pull of the sweater, whatever - and she grinds out some noise, something caught between her throat and her teeth, but mostly in the place where your hand's dragged under the material, tugging gently at the wire of a bra, and you'd actually kind of forgotten it was a thing.
It's when you hear her own rasp, when she slips the side of your zipper open with a few quick strokes, shoving her fingers inside to hold the base of your cock, that you finally decide:
She's yours and you'll prove it. You'll make sure she knows: the evidence, the fingerprints, the bruises blooming the size of your thumbs and she'll be the one showing them off with pride. She'll let you do whatever you like, which'll be a lot. She'll appeal to all the worst parts of you; she'll say thank you; she'll whimper while you're pulling her bra off and simply letting it flutter to the ground; she'll be crying within the first half an hour of you touching her. You can read it right off her gorgeous face. She'll be so damn breathtakingly-pretty, bouncing on your cock, folded under your weight - it'll be incredible. She'll be yours.
"Come on," Tzuyu breathes. "Yes. Please," she adds, as though it's an afterthought, her free hand tangling in your hair, pulling. "Hurry, or something - I fucking love this but we need to- I’m literally going to, like, die if you don’t touch me right now."
"Yeah," is what you get out. Her jeans finally fall to her ankles and she kicks, to get them to puddle onto the floor. "Yeah. Alright, maybe."
You won't even need to hear her begging, you already know how she sounds: a little annoyed and very turned on, rolling her eyes at herself. This part - she's playing at resistance, but she's giving in. A kiss back, hotter than you were expecting, as you slip a hand up the back of her bare thigh and the edge of her underwear, a thin strip, like it's done on purpose.
When you tuck a finger inside the waistband, feeling a little guilty about the way her whole body reacts - the flex, the pull, the weight of all her muscle straining against how her legs fall open - Tzuyu manages, her face in the hollow of your cheek: "you've waited long enough, right?"
God, she knows where the wounds are still fresh. Which bruises will hurt most when she puts a finger right into one - a reminder you couldn't possibly ignore. She's playing this whole thing a little bit sadistically; she wants this to be your fault, you can tell.
And your mind isn't unbending. You push a finger into her cunt and the girl absolutely shakes apart, body jerking like you've severed a lifeline. She's so wet, and so pretty, so sensitive. Maybe you really have.
"Tzu," you tell her. The hand in your hair tightens, a warning, as you let two, then three, fingers shove inside her. She's breathless; the slow, rough motions, her entire body riding the heel of your palm. "Do you want me to tell you how good you are for me, right now? Is that it?"
"Yeah - do. Please, fuck - please say it."
"I was right," is what you manage, biting your tongue.
"Right?" She asks, her fingers locked, urging your thrusting to turn punishing. "Please."
"Do you want me to make this a nice, pretty little memory? Suck the bitterness out and - have something sweet to go back to, the next time someone hurts you."
"I can take it." She snaps, not even responding to your comment. "Tell me you need me and you're leaving me no choice."
You smile into her hair, because she's a dream. Your thumb pushes into her clit and you can feel her seize up with a pathetic whine.
"Pretty," you mutter, as she slumps her chest to yours. You kiss it right into her hair. “I need you, Tzu.”
And the idea's seductive: keep her pinned and fuck her right into the wall. See her wrecked by the end; the swell of her thumb bloody from how she was biting into it, how she's wrenching at your wrist. Your lips land over her collarbone - no, hers do, to the side of your head - she'd be bent in half if it wasn't for the wood at her back. Her leg crossed in the small of your back. A proper, all-consuming kind of wrecking, with your name on it.
"Yes." Tzuyu nods into your temple, “just- that.”
You're kissing the crook of her neck; your fingertips sliding right against the end of her, your fingers pressing into her and stretching the girl to her limits, making her tremble in her own skin, making her insides melt for the next round, and the next round, and the next; the best, and worst, and longest-lasting kind of high. Your fingertips push together, flutter apart, and Tzuyu's eyes open all of a sudden, locking onto yours.
"Please," she gasps, this one thing. She has tears in her eyes: her face falls into your hands like water, a long drip, and she's all but unraveling.
"I'm going to make you cum, okay?" you tell her, and it sounds so sincere that she simply nods. She trusts you. Implicitly. You see how something in her relaxes, muscles unwinding as though for one last moment. Then you lean down, to her ear, to murmur: "say you're mine."
Her teeth are gritting. You can feel every last point.
"Just yours," she mutters, and it's barely even audible, but she'll say it: over and over, as her orgasm builds, before her mouth goes slack. "Always been. From the very beginning, please-"
“Fuck,” you bite down, and she looks like she’s won.
“So long, y’know?” she manages, in her halting voice, as if you haven't got two fingers up her sweet, perfect cunt, which is, currently, gripping the shit out of your hand, the hungry slutty muscle spasms, a slippery fist; it's not too hard getting Tzuyu to talk dirty and vulgar like a total degenerate - all it takes is the circle of your thumb and she’s perfect and pliant and absolutely out of her mind. “Since like, forever-”
You need her to stop. Need her to be quiet. Your palm lands over the shape of her mouth. She's murmuring something else, but it's muffled - and that's perfect, really. You’re not going to hell; all the devils are already here, getting off on the impropriety-
On the fucking drag of your fingertips. If it isn’t mean, it’s definitely cynical. Each curl of a knuckle unwinding her, a little more, a little further. The gush of her slick that’s collected on the webbing between your fingers is getting unruly, and you’re pressing her mouth flat against your hand, muffling the sheer appreciation.
“Shh,” you tell her, and she seems to calm - insofar you find a spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back and her chest shudder. “Don’t. Hold still for me, I want to watch you cum, Tzu.”
The only thing you can hear beyond the stilted breathing against your hand is her wet cunt getting stretched and fucked on your fingers. It’s so simple. So straightforward. The front of her orgasm makes her jolt against your hips and you pin her again, just to see those gorgeous eyes opening and shutting in sync.
It's this beautiful thing, watching her cum; her flushed cheeks, her pupils blown.
"Good girl," is the only thing you manage in response. "Such a good - such a good little-"
She moans into your hand and finally the muscles of her core tighten, tipping over the precipice as she tips back from the edge. "Ah, you - oh, it feels so-”
You tell her not to talk, and thumb her sensitive clit until the girl's screaming.
Her cries cut through the hallway: the friction, your movements - she's grinding desperate to ride her own orgasm. The absolute highs wracking her silent. She doesn't seem capable of getting off her tiptoes, or opening her eyes properly. Her mouth's still gaping beneath your palm with a whimper, her lungs heaving, and her cunt practically burning-hot - or, she just is, she's overheating, and everything else is burning around her.
"I'm going to fuck your pretty little cunt, Tzu," you tell her as her hips jump and her eyes open. You drop her leg, which buckles instantly. "You're going to be good for me, won’t you?"
"Yes, sir," Tzuyu promises you - it makes you wince - like she'd say anything else, with her hips pushing into your hand like she can't remember how not to.
Even with her brain turning to mush, Tzuyu finds it within her to tease, to pull, to coax - as her slick slides down the seam between your fingers, like she's gushing, a wet ribbon coating the backs of your knuckles. There's a fantasy in it, you think - and it's always the unapologetic type, like, they never admit it: they want the dirt, the debasing. There's always a blueprint to it; they want to hear how terrible it is and then have some fun playing into it, playing a part.
Only Tzuyu’s lip is wobbling; she’s looking at you like you’re going to fuck her apart and she’ll thank you for it. There's no play. Tzuyu wants your cum and she's so open-legged about it you can't pretend it's not exactly that simple.
She’s going to fall apart if you don’t shove your cock in her tight cunt. You need to pin her there - fuck her until she’s shaking. You can already see the face she’ll make when you shock yourself inside her-
"What is it, baby?" you ask her, and a beat later, you draw your zipper down with a steady hand, the other working in her mouth, pressing down the tip of her tongue - not exactly holding, not exactly pulling out of her.
Tzuyu sighs, heavy on her eyelids and slow. Very pretty.
"I want-" Her head is lolling. She's in a daze, now, you can tell: her mouth wet and trembling, her legs kicking weakly, a full-bodied tremor overcoming her. Everything wraps around you as your cock slides inside her: the pale-soft underside of her legs, her slender arms. All those lovely, endless tensed lines, her strong abs. She can hold you like this, with only her abdomen tightening, the rest of her almost liquid. Her head knocks into yours. "Fu-fuck my cunt, fill it, please.”
You use the angle, the approach. Her pussy's practically spasming on the thick tip, milking the hardness there - but the deeper, more confident strokes, you feel it in every one of her shaky breaths. The only thing you can see is Tzuyu's dumb little doe eyes, the one-to-two second interval, fluttering in between slow, heavy blinks. The walls of her pussy are all at once so gentle and smooth, her cunt a plush, warm vice on your cock; she's clinging, and hot, and you're so buried inside you could probably pick her apart with a few words alone:
"Please," she's muttering to herself, and every single cry gets stuck in her mouth and vibrates between the both of you.
Your fingertips hook into the curve of her waist, until your nails are sinking into the flesh, pinching gently, and watching her expression twist, you grip her hips with all the bruising-strength in your hands, yank her back onto your cock. Her spine goes rigid as a line of curses fall like rain from her mouth. A shuddering gasp - you have to steady her against you, where her knees lock tight around your waist as though she's worried you're leaving, like she's scared you won't stay-
"Baby," you grit out, like you'd beg too, "Oh- fuck, my baby, you're - you're all mine, okay."
You bury yourself balls-deep - and there's no pretense, it's just you and her, the pace making Tzuyu's little repeating "ah" go choppy with your thrusting, her eyes clamping shut, her limbs locking around you.
"Too deep," she groans. "Jesus, it's-"
"Uh uh," you mutter against the bend of her chin, and press in, still, maybe just to spite her. "Fight me. If it's too deep."
There’s tears in her lashes, she’s sobbing; you’re fucking her so properly you think she wants to kill you. It might even be written into that glossy expression: death, your demise. But her pretty eyes glint with mischief and her lips split into a grin.
"Try me," and this laugh, coming up from your chest - low, amused. "Go ahead. Put my neck in your hand, if you want-"
There's only ever a couple of moves. Like in chess, the combinations repeat, patterns emerge. Tzuyu pulls into your kiss; her wrist pinned to the wall behind her with one of your hands, the other knocking her thighs apart. Her ankles hook into your hips, just as you knew they would. There are so few options for a person; the only solution's the natural one - the urge to match each other's needs; to lose yourself in the easy push and the easy pull.
It doesn't take long before she opens up beneath you: until there's nothing between the hard pound of your hips and her tender, creaming cunt. Then there's that final gasp, this violent pulse as she takes her hands back from you to cup around your ears and press her lips to the line of your cheekbones and nose and mouth, with her tear-slick skin and saliva and, god - she's a whimperer, you now know, but Tzuyu holds her body still enough to not sway. The picture-perfect example of a good little girl -
That's how you push your mouth to hers: the steady-languid thrust of your cock between the hot clamp of her legs. "Oh, god, you’re gonna make me cum again, christ," her cries go, all muffled, right into your lips. She’s a little lost. Fucked-out. Blissful.
It's not right, though; just pinning the girl against a wall - no, she deserves better. You don't let her fall as you drag her into the bedroom. Not until a tumble into the sheets. She doesn’t try to control the fall, you land on top of her, and Tzuyu laughs a little, but it dies into the hard breaths you can feel bouncing back against your mouth. Her soft thighs pressed beneath your weight, quivering still.
"Fuck your cum into me," She huffs out, softly, more air than noise. You’re practically crushing her. And then the tilt of her head, almost inviting, like a question. "Please. I want it."
In hindsight, the real memory of this moment will be a soft and lovely thing - fabricated mostly: her tiny frame shaking, trembling in its effort to take you in, her voice giving out around a cry as she cums again - there's something sacred there, surely, a holiness that isn't altogether safe, considering what this girl is.
You’ll try not to remember how you fucked her and buried your face between her tits, though she did look up at you through her tears and made it sound sweet, said your name just so, or even the fact that she watched her whole body get filled and only smiled with contentment. That part won’t survive - nor the fact you’ll hold the girl down later and cum inside her three times. Until she’s leaking. Details to be confined to Mina’s cabin-secrecy - or at least, to whatever depth of oblivion, past your will to suppress it, her mind reaches when you bury your hand in her hair and pull her head back to really make sure you've hit every corner of her and left your cum there, marking her insides, turning her warm.
And look, Tzuyu doesn't balk. Instead she lets you pull her in close, her nails raking into the nape of your neck, the muscles under your skin. She drags scratches down your back as you sink into her cunt, hot, willing - she’s so fucking wet you’re bottoming out in each sloppy thrust.
"Tzu," you can't stop yourself from muttering, almost reverent. You were right, on all accounts. The girl is a problem.
One that is currently collapsing under you. You push her knees up to her elbows, and all her weight melts under your hands, limp and helpless.
"Fuck, your pussy is unbelievable.” You shouldn’t be fucking her this hard, but, well, you are - “Tzuyu, baby,” and when your hand comes up to her jaw, she palms it. Takes your thumb into her mouth and sucks. Fuck, it’s all slipping, consuming, you need to cum in her, need to bury your cock deep in her cunt and cum right into that wet sopping mess. Fill her up where she’s molten hot and her walls are gripping you so hard they’re practically begging-
"Yeah," she repeats around the digit, flitting her tongue against your fingertip. “Yeah. Cum for me.”
That's how she likes it. She'll scream, if you let her. If you give her the deepest fill. She’ll apologize and she won’t know for what. You already know how her expression will shift as soon as it hits. Head falling back. Her hands fisting in your hair, the bedding - her knees nearly get drawn up, and you push them apart by your fingertips. She whimpers, and whimpers, and you can't stop from fucking the pretty noises right out of her lungs until she's dripping - soaking you, all over the sheets. You want her to feel it when you leave. Your presence. It’s only fair - she should remember some part of you, in exchange for what she’s traded and stolen away - ideally forever.
You thumb at the tear tracks and lift her by a fistful of that pretty dark hair. And for her, you can be kind, you let your lips graze hers. As tenderly as you can manage, which isn't much, but then the angle settles lower, your cock hits deeper, all the right spots - and god, Tzuyu is so easy to fuck. She slips a little, and you’re catching her, pushing deeper, harder - she’s easy to pound too, to hold down and smother and grind deep, to have under you, all boneless, insensible-
"So pretty for me, Tzu," you growl into the shell of her ear, because you can, and another stroke, another velvety drag has you cumming in her hot, little cunt.
Each throb brings more, pumping her full of your cum, and she likes it. Keeps muttering baby, baby please in your ear, and fuck, you almost slip a hand down and make her fall apart too - but - her fingers wrap around your wrist before they get there, so tight.
"Can feel it. So deep," she whispers, when your eyelids screw shut and the mess floods out of her - gets fucked right back in: your hot cum and her thick slick, the creamy mess leaking from her cunt. You pull your cock out halfway, and she does sob - that sounds just like you'd imagine, too. "Please. Oh, my god- sir. That's it. That's it, let it out, sir. Sir, all your cum feels so good in me - please. Please- just give it to me, sir, yes-"
She’s not even taunting or mocking on that ‘sir,’ you think, not the way she sounds now, the halfway-slur. It's all torn up and tired. It makes you press closer, making the head of your cock swell between the thin walls of her pussy. It hurts - the squeeze. And then the soft, pleading sound she makes.
"Anything for you, sweetheart," you groan, a last attempt at a condescending tone. But she's so raw, so broken down by now that nothing is quite right.
"Fuck," she mutters against your mouth, "fuck, thank you," and your palm drags down the length of her sternum, following the angle of her jaw, slipping your palm onto her tits, thumbing at the indent. It's soft, pliant skin, and you pinch: not anywhere sharp or cruel, not especially sensitive, just in a line below the ridge of her rib cage, and it's too pretty a picture not to smile at her, when her entire chest jolts at the contact, the intake of breath. "Sir. Fuck."
"I'm still fucking you later," you assure her, as if her breathing could've convinced you otherwise. "But I wanna hear your voice some more. Hum a little. Give me a yes, sweetheart. Can you do that?"
The noise is barely audible, almost nonexistent, except it is: she hums her assent as you dip two fingertips back into her swollen, well-fucked cunt, scooping out some of the mess. Your fingers hook into her cheek and her mouth opens, because she's so obedient, because that's why it has to be like this.
You rub her bottom lip. Her eyes open into yours; a wet mouth. It's impossible not to see what's right there. It's easy, really, to press through and in, and give her that taste, that warm, velvety brush, like she's been sucking your cock, and maybe - oh, yeah, you'll remind her about it tomorrow, how she's a needy little slut for it, can't get enough - how you could've fucked her face until she was drooling and out-of-her mind - but the way her eyelashes flutter against your touch; the look-
You’ll take your time. You know what she wants: more than anything. It's the thing you can read. Maybe the hot, sticky mess, the flush in her cheeks. A touch to her face. Your thumb in her mouth, too, stretching, prying, holding. More cum falling beneath her tongue, dripping in those gaping, half-open red lips.
She’s licking your load from your knuckles, your Tzuyu. You can’t believe it.
"Swallow," you tell her.
"Mmm," and it’s there: this gorgeous expression on her features, her eyelids dropping, the shimmer, the shine. You'd do anything to keep it there.
You let your thumb leave the corner of her mouth and it stays open, just the tip of her tongue darting out to taste what little she can. The rest of her lulls back with a satisfied murmur, eyes half-closed, clearly the type of content-afterglow of wanting the man who'd just ruined her. A gratitude, or a simple, silly thing, if he would just pick her up in his arms: "thank you, sir."
Her panties end up back around her hips, and a new shirt's thrown haphazardly on, a soft, gray cotton which rides down, slipping past one pale shoulder. And then she turns over, to the side, her back curling into the heat of your chest. There's no attempt at leaving or any plans either. The arm you've loosely wrapped around her waist simply tugs. It's not subtle or even nice: your hand rucks up the fabric and snaps the waistband, and the soft cotton doesn't stop it from being painful.
"Fuck me again." Tzuyu shakes off with a shrug. She's wiggling her ass, practically. She's not wrong, you suppose - your cock hardens easily, more of a reaction. "Are you just going to - keep teasing?"
“Such a brat,” you say, and that makes her whole body tense; she makes the most beautiful sounds for you, but words, praise, humiliation - those always hit harder. You know your girl.
"Your brat," says Tzuyu, easily. "You can do whatever you want."
Your grip on her hip is brutal. Of course you know. That doesn't mean you can't look for loopholes, anyway, right? You don't move, but the threat's there.
The look she shoots over her shoulder is smug. "I like it rough, or something. Doesn't it make you mad that someone could've had me before?"
"Should I be?" You're swiping your cockhead through her folds before you have a chance to say, "Should I care that some guy's had my little cocksleeve before? Should I be angry that someone used my pretty toy before I got to?" You thumb at the tightness, and Tzuyu gives up the front immediately and jerks her hips backward. "If I wasn't the first?"
"Not exactly," comes Tzuyu's mild answer, "not if I was always thinking of you. Plus, they didn't make me feel like that." She tips her head up, to nip at your jaw. She's smiling so fucking coy when she adds: "please, don't hurt me too bad."
You wrap your hands around her. Press a kiss into her shoulder.
“Or do, maybe. Whatever feels natural, you know," she bites down.
"The hickeys are going to be difficult," you agree. "People are gonna see them and they'll picture themselves, probably, with you spread out, huffing, gasping - fucking you out of a brain."
"As they should," she says, and then hums this low, heartfelt note into the mattress. "So how hard can you do this, hm?" She's moaning into the pillow as you slip back into her cunt, but it's a challenge, the tilt in her voice. "Like, if I ask, real nicely."
Who’d have ever guessed she was so filthy. All hidden behind the pristine, the perfection. The prim girls are always the worst: all that beauty means more to them wrecked than revered - it means they've won, again.
Well, that works just fine. She's won you over.
You lean into her shoulder, murmuring, “you’re pushing your luck here, Tzu.”
“Am I?” Her head tilts back until it finds the curve of your jaw. Those deep brown eyes flashing. She knows what’s coming, her pussy tightening prettily. "I'm sorry, sir. I’ll clean up my act."
And the little smile. The fucking dimple, proudly stitched into her cheek - right as you pull her back onto you again, your length working its way slowly into her cunt. The way her ass fits in your hips lets you know you're no match for this girl: how unbelievably good it feels to be inside her. Hot, tight, wanting. Pressed tight between her gorgeous thighs.
“Guess I never noticed,” she says, before falling quiet with the soft punch of breath as you drag her backwards, against your body and the rocking press of your hips. Her eyelashes tremble while your cock nudges its way fully inside her pussy. The rest, as it seems, is silent: only the crash of skin, the sound of your breathing.
You’re already gathering her hair into your fist when you tug her back to your waist, mouth hovering right at the shell of her ear: "fuck, you take my dick like you're made for it. Do you even know how good your pussy feels? I'll ruin you if you let me. We can find out together," you tell her, pulling her back onto your cock. A wordless, pained, perfect whimper.
Tzuyu lets herself go slack against your chest.
She's taking you like a dream and that's it, that's enough, all you've got to say, and Tzuyu, jesus-fucking-christ, she does it with a laugh: this awful, melodic, bright, sweet, airy fucking thing: "don't fucking test me, Tzuyu -" you repeat, a warning.
Tzuyu bats those long lashes, like it'll mean anything, like this isn't all the proof you need.
"Okay. Don't tease, then.” Her hand reaches up to the nape of your neck, finds your body close and hot. She sighs. “I want to feel it, sir. So much that I can't walk after. That I'll still have you in me. I want it all to hurt. Is that too much?"
All she does is try to hide her smiles, and she's terrible at it. There's a gasp buried underneath her giggling, one that Tzuyu loses every time she moves her body with yours. There are only two conclusions now: either she's that perfect of a fuck or she's as full of shit as you are. Either way, the dimple's giving her away - her smile, her lips, the full, syrupy brown of her gaze.
Tzuyu wraps that leg up and back around you and the angle is devastating.
"Baby, I want you- I want your cock deeper - yes, baby. Deeper - as deep as it'll go. I want you to fuck me until I can’t think, until there's nothing I can do. Seriously. Fuck me."
Her hand dives over the shirt; there's no question when your gaze follows the trail she takes over her tensing body, over the curve of her breasts and down to where she's dragging at her pussy, where she's exposed herself. She finds the space and lets the fingertips flutter down, onto her needy, swollen clit; the place where your bodies join and separate; the throbbing pulse of her pussy.
"And then fuck me some more,” she adds, like that'll help. Her pussy fits you like a glove - it’s not fair. It’s not right.
But she's so beautiful up close, eyes fluttering in pure, concentrated rapture as she loses the tension in her face - one more thing that the facets, angles, and shades of Tzuyu become, something you tuck away in a vault somewhere safe; a secret just between the two of you.
Her hand runs up your thigh, fastens back on your hip. “You owe it to me, to use my body a little bit, don’t you think?”
There's no sense fighting it, not anymore - maybe there never was - and when you grip Tzuyu's upper thigh, tilt her leg upwards, she gives you an anticipatory hum. This light sound. An ankle lands over your hip, and what follows is a tight, enveloping slide, your cock buried in her wet pussy. So close together that she can't move much at all except to take it - the hard thrust, the one that forces its way up to the hilt. She's impossibly, overwhelmingly soft, a pleasure unlike any other. The absolute worst kind.
She knows exactly the danger of getting involved with you, and when she cums, once, again, and once more - her eyes water, her voice flooded - you think, so do you.
-
It’s in the hours of the morning that’re not quite today, nor quite tomorrow when Tzuyu leans on the end of the bed as she stretches. A loose t-shirt is draped over her petite body - you glance over at her as the bottom of the fabric lifts, exposing more skin across her legs. No matter the circumstances, the space she inhabits will always feel charged. She could wear a potato sack and have the same effect, you suppose, because that's just how she is: Tzuyu is magnetizing.
"That is definitely not yours," you say, finally.
The girl has a lovely arch to her back, a golden glow of perfection that you can't find elsewhere. That's when Tzuyu laughs and spins around. "Is that a question?"
You only have yourself to blame. Of course it's not hers. The shirt's oversized and could fit all five feet, eight inches of her like a tent. It doesn't belong to her, but her heart-shaped lips make you feel stupid, so you're giving her a second chance. You really need that shirt back. You packed light, it's your favorite tee, it’s a family heirloom, or something - whatever makes her get it off, you guess. You sit up against the bed, and watch her fingers hook into the hem as it slowly peels off from her frame.
And that is - a vision.
You already knew - but it's worth repeating, or forgetting your name and every last bit of your existence for; the sharp collarbone, the striking red lines beneath them, the palest, sweetest chest. Her breasts, a bit smaller, a bit rounder than normal (not that you would know), sit heavy in her hands, soft and full - oh, the hickeys, the perfect peaks and the bruised nipples - she's an aphrodisiac.
"I want one later," she tells you, and runs a hand over her breast, pressing against the angry red marks that color the pale skin.
"A shirt?"
She turns back toward the mirror, an image reflected tenfold - a beautiful flush on her high cheekbones. It's only a small win to think that those rosy cheeks are there because of you. Only a little one, if at all. "One of yours, sure."
You laugh, but she looks taken aback. "What, you mean like a keepsake?"
"Hey, if it smells good." Tzuyu brings up the neckline to her nose, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before they snap closed. "Yes. Like a keepsake, is that so unnatural?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you are, like, really forward." You thought you knew, but there's this part of you that wonders. Why the sudden revelation. "Not that it isn't obvious. I meant...with the rest. Just to clarify."
"With sex, you mean?" Her smile turns a little sheepish. "I can tone it down a little. I don't even notice sometimes, I just talk."
You walk forward and wrap your arms around her waist. You fit easily around her. "Don't," you say, quietly, against the back of her neck. "It's nice, in a way."
She cranes her head to trade the reflection of your eyes for the real thing. Her body is soft, warm. "You like to talk too."
"Right."
"Your favorite past-time."
"Point taken." Your thumb runs down the middle of her breast and traces her nipple. It's tender, you note. You can’t really keep your hands off her waist, or stop touching her tits - because who would ever let something so delightful pass them by? Not you. No way. "Want to hear a story?"
"If it's coming from you," she whispers, a little smile, a lot of entendre, "I’ll listen to anything."
"Do you see the wall over there?" You nod to the window. She follows it with her gaze, her chin jutting towards your shoulder, her long neck arching. It's hard not to kiss it. There's a clear stretch of drywall beside her desk. She nods. "When I came here with Sana and Mina last," and your nose presses into her hair, inhaling her, the way she smells like something tropical: vanilla and citrus. Something far from here. "I put up a few paintings. I'm handy sometimes, a hammer seeking a nail sorta thing."
Tzuyu almost snorts, and sways a bit in your grasp. You tighten your hold, not wanting to drop her. "Oh?” she teases out, suggestive. “Show me."
-
(You shouldn’t. You can’t stop, frankly. Fucking Tzuyu is in its own category: the luxury, the treasure, the extravagance; feeling between your fingers the finest silk, the richest cashmere.
Her palms slide higher up the wall, fingers splayed. The curve of her back, the pull of her hair. Tzuyu kissing you like the world will end and the moon will be the first to know, her fists curling into your back, a furious, frantic urgency - Tzuyu fucking you. Well. Tzuyu always, always kissing you; it's the universe resetting, it's a timeline rewritten, it's trading everything sweet for salt, giving you teeth and tongue, the insides of her lip rubbed raw - she tastes like 80 Proof, a sticky, melting liquor, and it goes down too easy. "Why are you making this hard for me." It's not a question, her face in your neck - then she says, like there's a hundred other things, a hundred thousand ways you can ask:
"What makes you think I want to make this easy?")
-
The power goes out early in the morning.
Which means you're in the dark. But, it's alright. You consider for a moment the omen-like timing, if such an idea is ludicrous in the first place. This could be a metaphor. After all, what is Tzuyu if not a classic trope? It isn't fair to judge anyone based off their flaws. For starters, you have more than you can count. You consider a moment longer, that the timing isn't metaphor-worthy. After all, if this was a punitive force, you're certain that it would've been more apparent, more explicit, if the electric panel had burst into flames or the cable box was shot-out; something bigger, flashier, less like something that you'd play up for theatrics. And it probably would've been when you had the girl on all on fours, your handprints seared into the round of her ass-
Or, when she got on her knees. The snap of darkness setting in as you slipped your cock out of her lips and spilled a rope of hot cum on her face, in her hair. The way she just relaxed into it, a reverence to her being baptized, kneeling. “Oh, Tzu,” you said, with a fist around a cock, and jerked the rest right out on her tongue. You probably would have heard her sniffle after, still recovering from her choking a bit.
Or, when you had half a mind to kneel down between her legs in the shower, suck her clit until she was dripping, fucking her open with your tongue; you could taste her sweat, her slick, and imagine how hard it must be to put up that front: biting into a washcloth, trying not to fall apart.
(Karma arrives late, or it doesn't arrive at all. Or, something. Who knows. It doesn't matter. The outcome would have remained the same.)
Tzuyu opens the sliding glass door to the balcony.
You watch her from behind - there's a small pile of snow at the edge. The whole mountain has gone into complete darkness. No moon, no lights, no light poles, or blinking bulbs or strobe signs or house lights - just night. How eerily romantic, that. And if there was an excess amount of snow before, it only got heavier, thicker, now weighing on the steel bars of the railing.
Tzuyu rests her hands there, leaning her hips a bit forward, so far that her knees lock. Her back bends. "It's so weird," she breathes out, and you can see your exhales, both of yours. "I feel like you and I are the only ones here right now. Everyone else is probably taking shelter. Maybe the power went out for everybody."
"Maybe."
"It's all a bit spooky. Or creepy. But, exciting too, yeah?" She turns, just enough. Her fingertips run along the side of her face. "In the mountains, yes." She doesn't even need to say the rest, doesn't need to ask: does that appeal to you? All this isolation? I could scream and scream and nobody would ever hear it. I'm yours to fuck, to have, to own, to do anything to-
"It'll probably be fixed in the morning," you tell her. "Who would turn it back on tonight. To this place. They'll start at the closest areas to town and go out from there."
"Mina has a generator," Tzuyu supplies helpfully. "No living clue where."
"Want to look for it?"
She lets her head tilt, as if to follow the expanse of trees leading up into the rocky ground. "Would it kill us to wait for tomorrow?" Her bare toes curl into the floorboards. The blanket stays wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and a single line of her wrist can be seen when she tilts her arm a certain way. "We won't die or anything."
You wouldn't die, not before being smitten with a different death, falling headfirst and in love; and that's what you've felt since the start, since the beginning: you've always wanted more. It was always inevitable, her letting her weight fall backwards, in the living room - all your filthy secrets falling out. It felt like the sky had dropped. All over the bedroom floor.
"Then let's get some sleep," you say, but still step closer, as you do with anyone, to brush aside the strand of hair over her ear.
-
It feels like the temperature must have dropped dramatically. Not that it bothers either of you very much, you note, when you move under the blankets together. Some might feel embarrassed by the necessity, but then, most aren't half the people that you both are.
Tzuyu presses her fingers under her thigh to keep her legs shut. To avoid the cold, she claims, but you can hear the slippery noises that her cunt makes as her body shakes with each thrust of her fingers. You almost suggest that you heat her up in an entirely different fashion, but the smile, her smile, gets the best of you. Instead, you let yourself touch and trace, and feel her wherever it may land. There's no sense in pretending either, so you tangle yourself into her: a finger between her legs. Another in her palm, resting against her hip. When you press your thumb against her cunt, she begins to smile, too, as if to show you exactly what kind of person she is. That is to say, completely insatiable.
You let your free hand slip under her chin. Tilting her head up, exposing the faint pulse-points. You wonder if she's imagining the things you'd do if the snow never cleared: toying with her hair, petting the top of her head, speaking pretty and dirty and pressing kisses against her bare back, in a rhythm, as you fuck her without care - something close and tight like the little noises she makes and how they die off, finally, when you push your cock deeper, still.
There are no words between you anymore, maybe - but she's not laughing, and you're not angry, and it's only one second before your mouth is on her neck, kissing the column of her throat. It's easy to sleep with her - so, so simple, if not anything else.
"I don't have anything in the morning," you murmur to the top of her shoulder, barely moving as not to break the moment. To tell her it's fine to leave her body or keep it forever. Either way. Both, if it's an option.
She smiles. Her eyes are still closed. "It'd be weird if you did."
She can be a tease - a complete brat - sometimes. Like now. But then again, who would you be if not the person who falls for exactly that.
And that is a weakness: you have a very specific kind of hunger, that won't fade, that can only be sated. She knows it, and yet her coy grin remains. It's a habit, not a mistake. "Yeah, well," you lean up onto your forearm, pressing the knuckles of your right hand against her soft cheek. "This is the most inconvenient of all places, but- don't worry about it."
"Meaning?"
"I don't think they sell birth control or morning after pills or anything up here," you explain, lightly. Your gaze passes from her eyes to the pink of her bottom lip and back, again.
"Do I look like I'd care?" Tzuyu sighs and takes your wrist, pulling your arm over her body. "I know what I'm doing," she adds, which might actually be a lie. "Obviously. You don’t need to pretend you’re like, responsible, or whatever."
Yes, obviously. As if it was all as easy as pulling strings, deciding exactly which points to tease, to stress. You should know. You just kissed and held down and fucked and fucked your cum into this one: you know how to move her strings better than any.
-
You flip the switch in the kitchen. Up, down, up, down: except, nothing. The electricity is still decidedly off by mid-morning, and you and Tzuyu end up having actual, quality, conversation.
You sit her on the kitchen counter - though it’s not fated to last long, because her legs loop around your waist, and she tugs your sweats down as you try to fix the two of you lunch - Tzuyu gets what Tzuyu wants, of course - so you're standing there fucking her while her head leans back on the cool marble, her silky dark hair tumbling off the end of the counter.
She ends up propped up on one elbow. Eyes hazy and half-lidded, fixed on the glide of you into her creamy folds, spreading her wider, wider.
Tzuyu asks questions - all innocuous, at least to the ear. About your past. Who you were before all this. Whether you want kids, when, whether you were religious, once. She gets personal before you have her cumming and incoherent: how you sleep, in what positions. How often you jerk yourself off. What you're thinking of when you do. How you'd use her - not the lewd version, the spitting, filthy iteration, just the you and her and her being yours part. And she gets specific about that. She'll slide up to you and bury her nose in your throat, wrap her arms around your shoulders, mumble about wanting you closer - you feel her, maybe more than you should - but every few seconds you're sliding home into that pussy and her chest heaves out a deep breath-
"I want what's in here," she finally says, her delicate palm cupping your balls. She's pulling you into her on each stroke like the fucking sun's gone out and this is her last chance - she's magnetism, gravity, a blackhole you'd give up the rest of the universe to. She's got one fist on your shirt, and the other hand on your sack, and her pussy's fluttering around you, and she's watching you watching her, and it's infinity:
"The idea of you." Tzuyu smiles at the way your eyes narrow, the way the word turns itself over and over on your mind, her. She tilts her face to look at your expression. "Like, in here. All your cum. There's so much. Can I please have it-"
You swear.
"Pretty please, baby," Tzuyu's asking if you'll fill her up, if you'll make her your cumdump, keep fucking her even with all your cum inside her, asking what the worst of your fantasies are - you fuck harder, deeper, and she nods eagerly, tightens that fist in your shirt. "Can you give it to me? Please, it's the only thing I need, and we both know I always need something, please."
"Jesus fucking christ," you tell her, helpless, and it's never felt better: her cockwarming on your lap, her teasing and teasing until your self-control's paper thin - won't you? won't you? fucking breed this slutty little cunt? won't you cum until I'm so full it's spilling out-
The snap. Like falling, it’s something you notice right away, but only ever understand a long ways down.
"Yours," moans Tzuyu, half in an accusatory fashion - fuck - she's almost gasping: "fuck - just use me, use your cumdump, 'cause you'll never have a tighter cunt than this."
God. Damn. Her. You cum so hard it aches, and there's no hesitation:
"My cocksleeve, my good girl, shit-"
"You could leave a baby in me, even, just like that. Couldn't you. Isn't that hot. And nobody could do a fucking thing." Tzuyu’s tits are spilling out the sides of her camisole and she looks like pure porn, in person. Your cum is dripping out of her and you watch as it spills on the marble.
"Is that what my girl wants?
She smiles, again, so prettily.
“You wanna be full of cum, is that it?" You grab Tzuyu's hair; pull just enough to get the point across. "Is that it? You're a perfect cumslut who needs all that fucking cum, huh? Wants it pumped deep? You like being full of it, right Tzu? This needy little cunt loves the thought of getting bred? Knocked up? Goddamn, Tzu."
"That's me," agrees Tzuyu, in the afterglow. Dimple dug deep. "Yeah. Your personal cumslut, sir."
She just grins when you reach between her thighs, pressing your fingers into the cum you've fucked into her, before you decide that the wet warmth is yours and you’re going to fuck her even further into delirium.
Her hips come up off the granite, desperately.
"Uh-huh," she mumbles, already drifting - you put her off her balance, for real. "God, yes, please," she's whispers, as if all the ways you'd ruin her were prayers, like she wants to start a new religion all her own: you're a god, and it's all about Tzuyu - just you, and her, asking, again, the questions piling on top of other ones, the sweet drawl, the sinful want, the curiosity-
Fuck. She wants everything about you, your dirty secrets and your nice manners - the stories behind your scars, your funny little quirk of raising just one eyebrow at a time-
You turn her around. She's made for this, intelligently designed: her tiptoes just touching the floor, the delicious curve of her lower back, your cock sliding effortlessly into her and hitting a spot she arches into like it's divine intervention and that pussy making its first church of your name. The cum you'd already left in her cunt is making everything wetter, making those obscene sounds echo in the space around the two of you. It's rapturous; you let her feel it slow, and deep, and it’s bliss.
“Tighter,” you growl into her ear, and her cunt clenches like you own it.
The girl's figure is pristine, an ass that belongs under spotlights, on camera; those thick lips, the curtain of her hair when she tips her chin down. It's all been in magazines, billboards, it's been idolized - she is the icon and you're the follower, but, this weekend, here and now-
"So. Fucking. Good-" she gasping, falling apart. She’s collapsing and it’s not even noon.
"Oh, the world knows." You pull her up, hold her body in yours and snap into her cunt. Her skin's hot, feverish, the light that filters through the blinds and the snow slows outside.
It all happens without a moment’s notice - Tzuyu reaches behind and clutches your thigh, as if she could ever pull you deeper, like it wouldn't tear her in half. But you find yourself in a position to grab the edge of the counter; your phone buzzes. It's Sana, probably asking what's up. You want to ignore it and keep fucking Tzuyu from behind. You want to hold her hips, be mindful of the marks, the bruises, sink your fingers into her hair, her tits - you end up murmuring things like please and fucking perfect and if we were a little more religious then you'd be a sin to remember-
Fuck, you're cumming again. The writing’s on the wall as soon as your cock makes her breath draw short and her eyelids snap shut. She’s exquisite, a masterwork - you’re painting in broad strokes, all over the beautiful curves of her ass - not only because you’ve needed to see it cast in hot streaks of white, all debased with your cum, but simply to prove a point; to say that you can. You cum on her cheeks, her cunt, you pump your fist around your shaft and cum in the crotch of her panties too.
"That's it, Tzu," you croon, "look at that," your spent cock twitching against her plush thighs, her dripping pussy lips, and she's sagged forward, onto the counter, your thumb running through a particularly thick rivulet. Her face dips down, pressed to the cold surface, and the words coming out aren't coherent, are just filthy and true; but they're there: she's taken you and kept you, all for herself.
(Thank you, she says, for making me into your little cockwarmer, your toy, for breaking my fucking cunt, baby - thank you, please, thank you-
You could end your career tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Just saying, man. This girl, fuck.)
There’s a beat, the strained breathing, the panting, the disbelief. She ends up kissing your chin after sliding back to her feet, a saccharine imitation of chaste. Pulls up her shorts without a second's consideration. Her panties, still sticky with your spend - well. She puts those back, too, grinning dreamily.
Oh, how is a woman like Tzuyu even real, huh? You really do need to find out, somehow.
"Your imagination is…" you say, your tone flat. “I swear.” But you don't deny that the sex isn't. You don't think of her that way. She doesn't ask you for your hopes or your dreams or the full gambit of life, as some people might. She asks about what you think about at three am when she's got one hand on her tits and one on her clit and one finger in her mouth:
"Anything we can think of," she corrects, her long limbs squeezing her tighter to your front. Her grin bright, so perfect she's beyond believable, and how can such a dissonance exist in something, someone, you're holding on to? "I mean, we can if you want."
-
"Maybe we'll talk about that - how you can handle me," is what Tzuyu rasps, softly, tying her hair up afterwards: and you realize this is her post-coital. For her, sex makes her nice. Sweet.
You've already fixed her lunch; Tzuyu comes to sit down at the table with you. "Like, for future reference." You're raising an eyebrow. She grins at that, kicks her feet. Her hips don't do the same, though - no doubt still a little sore, like her lips. She's worn out, finally. She won't try to slice off and claim any more of your aching soul.
“You have no business thinking about babies.”
“Tell that to my ovaries.”
"You have a breeding kink, is what it is, really. I’m being completely serious."
"Well, am I pregnant yet?" Tzuyu flutters those lashes, puts those big pretty eyes on full display. "No? Then I'm getting off on something else, clearly, isn't it obvious, like maybe there's something about being on the other end of someone so big. Have you considered how wet you make me when you-"
"Tzuyu, cut it out," you chide her. The little brat's giggling. You aren’t going to let her know how pretty the noise is.
"Fine." She reaches across the table, puts her small hand on your larger one. "Like I said - how to handle me." Her tone is placating, the sharp edge to her personality blunted. It's different with Tzuyu - after sex, she gets like this: playful, easy, fond. The mess you've just made, the cunt you've stuffed full, that's another Tzuyu altogether. "For your... benefit."
"My benefit, really?"
"Aside from getting my brains fucked out," she explains, "is what I meant."
"Not making this easier, babe."
Her mouth curves a slow smile. She likes when you call her names, cute shit like that.
"I need to call Sana back," you explain, finally.
Tzuyu nods.
"In a bit," you add. "Also," you're saying, leaning forward. Her head tilts toward yours.
She's receptive, her whole body pliant and lazy, after that, well, marathon - she'll roll with whatever you're suggesting. This has always been a dream to her, she's mentioned. (Who has dreams like that? Someone so young, that innocent - well, yeah.)
But you kiss her temple, lightly. "Gimme a minute."
Tzuyu blinks, in that catlike way she has of staring, intent. Her mouth slightly pouty.
"Then you get your turn," you offer.
"Deal," she nods.
And that makes her beam - your beautiful, very good, very perfect, little toy.
-
"You're going to have to slow down," you tell Sana over the phone. "I have zero reception up here, sorry."
"The highway is shut down, I literally can't get to the other side of town," she yells over the sound of tires rolling on snow. Sana does not sound in the best spirits. If anything, she sounds slightly desperate. "Part of the mountain collapsed on a cliff somewhere. Fuck's sake. The weather is still terrible and they're shutting everything down. Literally shuttering every road off the base of the mountain."
"You sound good," you deadpan, and when Sana grumbles, say, "try the next exit, head around and take a back road-"
"Yeah, except it's snowing like nobody's fucking business right now - I'm not going to risk exposure to try to get there on my own."
"What should I do?" you try, a bit helpless. "Stay here?"
"Why are you even asking," Sana scoffs, "yes, stay there, stupid. Tell Tzuyu you can't drive in snow, that she can't possibly expect me to deal with any of you leaving a safe situation." There's another brief pause. "Ah, seriously, there is not a single living human being near here that can be helpful - and they're supposed to bring us new tires? Here? No, fuck's sake."
"Oh," is all you say.
"Don't worry about me." Sana's voice goes up a notch. "Just be there, alright? Stay warm, okay?" A crackle, more radio waves or distance.
"Text me," you urge. "Tell me you're getting in safe."
"Of course, of course," and that's when you get the click, the abrupt disconnection. You stare at the device in your hand and consider the possibilities, and the outcomes, and how to stay sane while alone with temptation incarnate for a couple nights.
Maybe this really is hell. Or it's a trial. There’s the storm, and there’s your angel, contextually out of place. You're incapable of controlling yourself, clearly.
You sigh, let your gaze slide. The lights are still out, and in their absence, Tzuyu has dragged every available blanket or bed sheet within her reach into the living space, spread a dozen pillows across the sofa and is now occupying one of the corners: there's a book, opened onto her lap, as her nails run circles down the blanket draped over her lower back.
"Tzu, what exactly did Mina mention to you about the generator," is the first thing you blurt, upon entry, and Tzuyu smiles, holding up the page against the fading daylight - which is currently hardly much. "Better question: how are you able to read in the dark?"
"Takes a lot to shake me off, honestly,” she says, which you already know to be true. “Also my eyes aren't old like yours, so."
"Wow."
"What?" Tzuyu grins, tilts her chin. "Do you want me to say that you're ageless? Thirty, flirty and thriving. So impressive, your youthful vigor, that sort of deal? How attracted I am to your experience," the insinuation, this sudden intimacy. She laughs. "Seriously. Let me read."
"Apparently we're going to be stranded for a few days."
"That's cute." She pauses. "Sucks for Sana."
"You don't know what sucks for Sana."
She peeks over the corner of the page, then, grinning, the teeth of a joke. "What's on the menu, then? Hm? So far, the best part was waking up beside you," and you almost grin, at how honest she manages to be without seeming conceited. How shameless Tzuyu has become in the ways of liking you, and maybe a bit of who she thinks you are. And why that's dangerous, really, and it makes the guilt burrow down beneath your ribs a bit: "my ass hurts," she's complaining now, which is only going to encourage the teasing-
"As it should," you comment, then watch her eyes sharpen, glint with mischief. "Oh," you realize, with a shrug, "do we get to cuddle again."
(Let's hope, for a moment, this isn't really karma. Because really, it'd just be an uncalled-for injustice: Chou Tzuyu delivered down on all fours, head tucked into your thighs as a fist grabs a handful of her hair, a slow push and pull - your cock sinking into the velvet warmth between her lips, again, again, and again until she's ruined and crying and still swallowing you whole - as she, not the universe, forces a massive dose of her own medicine down your throat. You see how that might not be quite fair.)
"But I'll have to leave again," you're protesting - no heat, no vitriol. "There's, like. Stuff I gotta grab."
"Then grab me," she sighs, pats her lap, "read over my shoulder. Make out with me. Just keep me warm. That'd be very helpful, and I would be so grateful."
Well, fuck. You're not one for inflating egos - at least not anybody else's - especially when, unchecked, that tends to do the exact opposite of keeping them grounded.
"Fine," you're muttering, and you clearly have a habit for capitulation wherever Tzuyu is concerned, the quirk in her lips, the quiet pride in her dimple, the cadence in her speech - which she's already smug about.
"Wonderful." She taps the back of her fingernail against a book page, waits, just a few more seconds, her grin spreading as you begin to fumble around. "Please," she says, flicks her gaze back down, a tease, "take all the time you need."
-
The thing about mountain air is it has a way of clearing your head, cooling down the frenetic thoughts of indecision and uncertainty and moral conflict.
Well, maybe that's a slight overreach, the mountains also have a way of getting you killed, but the intention was to look upon the white caps and ponder. It didn't work.
-
You eventually find the generator. You hear the clicks of metal and electrical wiring, the roar of the motor kicking on, a steady hum. Then, Tzuyu pokes her head out from behind the shed, her cheeks tinted a warm pink; her eyebrows rise up a beat.
"Yes?" you prompt.
"Is it working?"
"Does it look like it's working, miss?"
"Looks a-okay to me," and she presses the heel of her mitten into her teeth, tries to bite it back down her wrist; she stumbles, a moment, slightly clumsy in the snow. You instinctively reach out. Your hands brush the outer seam of her pajamas, the heavy fabric of her coat - "oh," you can feel the instant the shivers start, "fuck, I'm cold.”
“We’re both probably pretty due for a hot shower,” you say.
"Yeah, you came in my hair. Er, sorry, I meant, we both need a hot shower."
"It was really adorable when you were rutting back on my dick like some horny animal," you snort. "Admit it."
"No comment."
"So shy."
Her smile cracks open, and her breath is a white plume. "Fuck you."
"Sure, babe," you're agreeing, the tone almost saccharine. "If you insist."
She blinks back in mild surprise, the blatant answer - and god, her fucking eyes: soft, dark, her eyelids barely lift up. Even when they should've narrowed. That was another thing to learn. (Maybe, god - who knows, maybe she's still learning how not to care.)
She runs a hand through her hair. The scarf around her neck is fluffing up. There's white clumps settling on the fibers, slowly dissolving into a damp mess.
"Listen," Tzuyu murmurs, wraps an arm around yours to help herself up.
Your palm settles on the round of her thigh. She shifts, her hand dropping lower - tugs at your arm until she has an elbow in hers. The backs of her knuckles settle against your hip bone, her fingertips sliding across the waistband: you walk backwards through your snowprints, gently - the side door to the cabin is unlocked - Tzuyu's stumbling toward it.
"Going to the shower, we're turning the water on," she explains. You grin, feel your own arm, a slow drag around her lower waist; she tilts into it, steps closer. Presses a finger to your chest: "dinner's gonna be in half an hour," she announces, "and before you ask, I've been craving those boxes of instant mac & cheese in Mina's pantry."
"I haven't had one of those in ages."
"Me neither," and with her heel, she kicks the side door shut; Tzuyu yanks on a cord, pulls the blinds closed. It's pitch black. You're chuckling low, turning around - one of Tzuyu's hands smacks over a nearby light switch, illuminating the room just a shade lighter than it was prior. She presses a hand to your chest, a single-minded goal to your front.
You put your hands on her hips.
"It's the kinda thing that makes me feel like a kid again," you hear her say, just slightly; that, and how the white fabric of her sweater twists, pulled to a single point.
"Happens," is the best explanation you can give. She slaps the lightswitch again. Kisses you. You shove a leg forward. She whines. "Be good," you're chiding, though you both stumble until her back is pressed against the wall. "You were just complaining that you're still sore."
"Maybe I can't help it, maybe that's all on you," the end of the sentence fades. Her nails slide up the sleeve of your arm. There's the soft hitch of a moan. "It's just you. So unfair." She rubs up. Swallows like it's instinct, at the slightest hint of friction. You curl your hand, your thumb grazes the waistband of her underwear; her fingertips tighten, her blunt nails sink deeper - press like she means something else, wants something more.
It'll be a few days, at least, more likely a week; and by then, this girl will have you right where she needs you. She's proven, time after time - you can never just say no.
-
The days bleed together after the snow.
You fuck her, but slower; sometimes softer, a little less raw, the hurt. Not that you'd ever try to take too much: the thought is unthinkable, un-imagined. Infinitely impossible. You'll pull out and empty everything you have, paint her skin, make her ache, fuck until you know exactly where the bruises are and how to touch them, how to breathe the hurt down from her ribs.
But some mornings: she rolls over onto her side, opens her eyes and smiles. Brilliant like the sun, something that would warm your heart even without trying. Some afternoons, you put the fire on; read something aloud from Mina's bookshelves, and watch the red-orange flames turn Tzuyu's cheeks and neck pink and honey. Evenings, especially the colder ones, you're wrapping her up, blankets, sweatshirts, pulling her close: into bed with the lights turned off. She wants the touch, she craves it, she'll almost whimper when you get near her - and it's you, whispering words against her ear; tracing fingertips lightly against her temple, down the nape of her neck, her lower lip-
"How come you don't kiss me, hm?" She sounds sleepy. "Baby. Don't pretend you're a stone. Like, an unfeeling brute."
"I have my limits, princess."
"Like not kissing someone you're fucking." Her face drops from your sight, and Tzuyu turns over: she curls into her comforter, and her legs nudge the back of yours. "That's so fucking cruel," her voice a little whiny. "But okay, okay - tell me the reasons. Just so we can keep going."
"Keep going, huh. Even though I'm mean."
"Well, yeah, I've done much, much worse," the worst, if you think about it; and it's almost true. Maybe her morality was on the rocks long before yours. "Obviously."
You drop a kiss into her hair. "We both know what that mouth of yours is capable of."
She grins into your skin. Presses her lips, like a sign, and stays.
-
A girl like her inspires the worst in a man, and that's just about it: you think a man would burn the world down for her, with her, and maybe that would be how all things end, someway, somehow - not because of him or her, the full spectrum of his intentions, all the intricacies and subtleties, and hers too. You're both complicated creatures, sure; both very capable and wanting. Of big feelings, deep attachments: the overflow of your good hearts, perhaps; or, rather: the deficits.
She appeals to your worst impulses, in the plainest terms.
"Jesus Christ," you hiss, hands firm on her lower back; your voice breaking; Tzuyu has shed the bedsheets and climbed into your lap, one leg bent at the knee, digging the other into your ribs - her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.
"Tell me that's good," she murmurs, hips gyrating, rocking her pussy along your cock. "Like that - right?"
"Fuck- yes," your cock slides into her, your entire length, the rest of the world fogged out: even the fire is quiet. "God, tzu. Feels amazing."
Tzuyu rolls her body forward, rides you with ease, and puts one small hand against your mouth. Her shirt hitches up and over the curve of her spine and then pools at her neck.
"I want to make you cum," she says, all quiet determination and wily confidence, "only you." She rolls her hips in your lap and then finds it: the steady, rhythmic grind down, down. Her ass crashes into your balls; the first telltale sign of that wonderful orgasm to come. "Is it wrong to want this? Like, you and I? Fuck. It feels like your cock was made for me."
"Yeah,” you grit, “fucking you feels - like it's meant to be, huh?"
"Sir," she says with an unhealthy smirk. She’s loving this more than you are, and you can’t really blame her for it: there’s no other sound quite like the slick, wet noise that her pussy makes as her body drops to yours, your cock filling her completely. It's music to your ears.
You grab at her ass, her hip, and pull her closer. She smiles, tilts her face down to you.
"Me too, you know, me too," she murmurs, kissing you softly; when you cup her breasts her breath hitches. "God- fuck- just-"
When she does cum, it's with the faintest little groan; a small, intense quiver in her thighs. You kiss her to swallow down the sound; and feel yourself tip over, and when she fucks you through your orgasm - her smile is dark, wicked, totally satisfied.
-
And everything else follows, because you're weak: because she makes you want to say no, even while simultaneously being your very favorite yes. You warm your cock inside her with some slow, gentle rhythm, her nipples hard against your shirt, her cries as sweet and earnest as all the best promises; a slow grind down, her fingers scrabbling for the headboard, you lean and lick her breasts, roll her nipples on your tongue - she gasps, tenses, digs her nails hard into your nape.
You'll have her again in the morning, she's adamant.
Her hands find your back, her legs circle your hips. The taste of her sweat. The taste of her nipples; her chest flushed, hair disheveled, pupils blown.
"Not letting me go." She whispers. Her cheeks are a lovely pink. "Even after this?"
You kiss the corner of her mouth, inhaling, wondering what to say.
"Good," Tzuyu tells you, tilting her jaw: "that's really-" She catches her lips with her teeth. "That's so fucking good."
-
(Her pussy grips your cock like it's the home she's always missed, her lifeline, her safe harbor. And it's dizzying, it's heaven, hell; and, in the morning - when everything is sepia-warm and sleepy - you fuck her again.
A promise, a hope, a plea. It's what makes a girl fall for a guy, in theory.
It's what makes her heart beat. )
-
"My phone's charging," Tzuyu sniffs the next morning: you're brushing out her hair. The sheets are warm.
You continue combing.
"Sana told me she would be texting, or trying to call."
"Well, that's nice," is all you can manage.
"Babe-" she leans back a bit: turns her gaze to the ceiling, exhaling sharply, "what if she got caught in a whole different avalanche, or fell from the top of a mountain, or something-"
You let go, letting her rest her weight against your thigh. "Honestly? Would serve her right. A little cold, a little damp-"
"If you don't take that back-"
"Alright. Alright. I'll send an apology prayer when I get around to it."
"No you won't." She curls in further, and you stroke her neck, shoulder blade; down the ridges of her spine, across the width of her back.
Tzuyu shudders slightly under your touch.
"Haven't I earned enough good faith, or a clean conscience?"
"Sir, don't pretend."
"Let's pray for Sana, then," you mutter. "Wherever the fuck she is."
"With respect," Tzuyu pipes up, eager: "bitch ain't found."
"Jesus.” You laugh out loud. “At least your brain isn't fully turned to mush, yeah?"
"Give yourself some credit. I can hardly fucking walk. You really pounded the feeling in my legs away."
"Too bad."
"Sorry." And she noses at your collarbone, tugging the waistband of your boxers; "feel free," the drawl of an old, forgotten song, "to make me repent. Baby. Do your thing."
"Right, I forgot that I could convince you to do anything by sliding my dick in your throat. Yikes."
"Baby, just, uh- do whatever." Tzuyu grabs hold of your cock through the thin fabric: one light tap of a finger, "my lips are numb," the suggestion. You really could be her everything: and maybe if you said, stop, please, you won't. She'd pause; look at you like you're insane and maybe spit out what the actual fuck is wrong with you. Like the reality:
This doesn't have to end, no?
"Sorry about your phone battery," you tell her, brushing out the knot at the base of her skull. She exhales, goes soft; lets you tug lightly. "We’ll figure things out when Sana can actually text you, okay?"
"Dumbass. When it's warmer and you drive down to meet her."
"You're not jealous," you tell her. You’ve decided for her.
Tzuyu rolls, leans down on her back, smiling prettily-
"Nope," she agrees, pulling your cock out: already hard, ready to cum down her throat. Her fingers pump soft, slow, the anticipation- "just not done."
"Crazy."
She shrugs and lets the silence calm the world around the two of you; at least for a little while. "Takes a certain kind," she agrees.
"Permissiveness. Like what I'm seeing. Your brand or whatever."
"It’s straight from the heart." She shoots up, making a face you want to kiss. "Honestly."
"Absolutely sincere," you deadpan, and she ignores the jab.
"Tie a bow with my hair," she chuckles, the laughter light, and your fingers graze her temple. "Come on. I'll make you so proud. So pleased. Sir. Let me, let me-"
"Only if I can finish down your throat," you retort - half-joking, but, her eyes grow warm, molten, the lust is immediate - you tip her head, lower it gently - she bites down onto her lip, nods a bit.
-
You don't take her right away. Not at first. You’re trying to show some restraint, trying not to think about how Tzuyu wears clothes like a vice. She's that kind of girl. Like an accident waiting to happen. She's moving around the kitchen later, poking about the cabinets. She's slid into some jeans that fit her a little too well, and one of those obscenely thin t-shirts.
You watch her back muscles work, how the cotton bunches as she leans, arms extending. Her chest's flat against the counter to grab whatever item's out of her reach. You catch the ribbon in her hair bob slightly back into place when she stands back up. The hairline on the nape of her neck catches a long highlight of a morning, the thin strands a brilliant brown, a spark of warmth in the midst of a muted winter morning - and it's honestly amazing to look at.
(Her ass hangs out in the open like an invitation. Your eyes are running down every curve of denim like they can't help but search.)
"Tzu," is the warning, and she flashes a grin; turns, the expression shifting, wide. "I can literally see everything you have."
"Hm." The front of her shirt lowers, too - her black bralette, barely a scrap of lace and string, visible through the thin fabric. "If I'd known you'd like that so much, you could've told me earlier."
"It's not your job to figure me out."
"Well, I'm not sorry." The words are sugar sweet, with an almost fake concern: her feet pivot, her ass filling your vision- Tzuyu spreads her hands down her outer thighs.
"Be nice," you reiterate. "C'mere."
Her legs snap to you quick.
-
You are careful, tentative and slow. You leave the ribbon in place and everything; just your mouth, like you have a right to lick down her breasts, her stomach, her clit - like you deserve the faint marks where your hands pressed down onto her waist.
The slow licks, the soft kisses; you could eat her out until the sun sets and Tzuyu was left sobbing through the overstimulation. Her fingers rake your hair like it’s exactly what she’s hoping you’ll do.
When Tzuyu does let go: she doesn't drop. There is no shame, nor shameful whimpers. Instead, she fucking screams, so high and clear it doesn't seem possible: a singer's wail.
"Sir!" she's crying, you can feel it through every tremble. "Oh my god, please-"
You get her to climax twice before the tears fall, your fingers tracing her spine, pressing deeper, a knuckle, then two-
She looks at you in abject reverence, "God, you don't know," is the gasp, "how perfect you are," and you're sure. You'll never get it right again: at least, not without her.
She cums a third time, shivering, collapsing: her eyes wide, glossy, breath shallow, limbs giving in. The sweat clings to her like a lover, a life she doesn't know how to leave.
So, you ask:
"What now, doll?"
Her tongue sweeps the corner of her mouth, a tiny wrinkle.
"Whatever," Tzuyu exhales. "Fuck, whatever, seriously, that was like- amazing- but my throat is actually going to murder me."
"Was the screaming really that necessary."
"Not sure- about anything," is the groggy admission, "like, honestly. Too horny to care, but." She pauses for a second. "You," she finally decides.
"I," is the immediate reply.
"I’ll let you do - anything, but I- can I, like, get a breather? For a minute. Can you wait, like, just."
Her arms open: you settle against her side, and a shaky hand starts combing through your hair. Her other palm lifts to rest against your cheek, cupping it. The nails tap gently along your hairline.
"Been waiting so long, Tzu, honey," and it doesn't sound as cruel or glib as the slip up should be construed - doesn't even bother to count on forgiveness, either. Maybe you're beyond all of that, honestly, and more or less in love, as a result. It’s kind of fucked. What’s a minute more?
She laughs softly, a cough catching up and sounding pained. She's lost her voice, the poor thing, she’s cummed herself hoarse and ragged and you’re proud of your handiwork.
"Honey," you hear her say, and she shakes, pulls herself closer, kisses you back: like the old, gentle motion can ever fully cure the fever of desire that grips the two of you. It's a pipedream, and you're kissing her. It's a pipedream, and you know it.
-
The calls start coming in after the sun sets and the cabin grows cool with the dark: you feel, faintly, that it's inevitable. That the snow would clear and time would start marching on, a predetermined cycle. (That, maybe, something in the universe - at this stage, almost a hundred years of weather, tectonic plates, astronomical phenomena, interconnected - knew the two of you needed that bit of seclusion.)
"I dunno, just some bog-standard hotel, holiday suites or something. The point is: the roads don’t open until tomorrow and I've been holed up for a while." Sana sighs into the phone. The static pops. "Oh my god, I'm bored out of my mind. I've had like, three full bags of crisps in one sitting, which is just plain wrong."
"You're basically living off carbs." You say this from in front of the fireplace. Tzuyu is sitting on the opposite side of the couch paging through a stack of magazines, wearing a big jumper and sweats and socks pulled up to her knees. Her hair is falling around her shoulders in soft waves, and it makes her look small and domestic and a bit docile - she’d re-tied the ribbon in her hair after you’d fucked it off her, and that more or less completes the look.
"Yes, I have gone off the deep end. A tragic, awful spiral. Because you're not here. Fuck, you have no idea."
"Ah- Sana." You stop. Take a deep breath.
"Do you have any idea? The state of me right now? seriously. I packed so many fucking condoms and the idea of bringing them back home is more defeating than anything else." She lowers her tone a little, then adds, "because, not to be weird, I was kinda sorta hoping we might use them when I got up there."
You blink. Tzuyu isn't even pretending to look anywhere else. Her whole face is shifting into a satisfied expression, and when she catches you looking, she winks.
"Right. Now this might sound like a surprise," Sana is continuing, her voice full of amusement, "but when I get stuck somewhere, alone and thinking about the weather- I'm often in need of a fuck. Please be prepared to service, because god damn, I've got nothing and it's gonna have to be the battery."
"Is that Sana?" Tzuyu interrupts, the tone hushed, but lofty.
You make a face, like: who the fuck else - but that makes her smirk; Sana sighs, then laughs.
"So if you like, you know. If you feel like the vibe is there. I'd appreciate the hand out."
Tzuyu walks over: sets herself down between your feet and kisses your knee. Just to fuck with you. Because she wants to. She holds the kiss, the bow in her hair, done up tight and shiny, visible. You want to tug the stupid thing until it unravels; all your fingertips, her lips, and she sighs-
"Oi," Sana's saying on the line. You can hear her crash onto her bed. "You still there?"
"I'm sorry," you say, "are you uh, asking for phone sex - or did I totally read that all wrong."
"Nope. Pretty direct." Sana laughs, and the sound should make it easy to close your eyes, picturing it: a silver smile, the low slung skirt and a stretch of stockinged leg, the twinkle of a drink as the ice hits her mouth. It’d be easy, y'know, if your gaze wasn't pinned on the girl who's settled at your feet.
"Oh, jesus, okay," you manage to breathe. Tzuyu hums a little: reaches for your fly. "Is there anything, anything that you want me to do?"
Sana's laughter drops to a murmur: the air goes heady as Tzuyu parts the zipper and rolls down the waist of your pants- "ask me what I'm wearing, duh."
"Boring," Tzuyu breathes into the air. Because apparently Sana's defining trait is being loud. The kiss to your clothed cock is hot, teasing - her eyes never lift away, "always, always start with, 'darling, sweetheart,' or something stupid, sweet." Her tone is pure syrup: you can feel the warm, the wet; a fucking tease, all the way to her core.
"What are you wearing, darling?" you ask, dryly. Tzuyu rolls her eyes.
Sana's grin widens and you swear it's audible, "oh, just these boring pajamas." She draws it out slow and sexy and completely aware. "It's all loose cotton, and it doesn't hang off me, just folds."
"Is it the type that comes down to the mid-thigh? The white kind, where you can see through to the skin?"
"That's a little presumptive, don't you think? A bit on the nose? Yeah, fine, I'm wearing the kind, if you absolutely insist. These legs, bare. Maybe you'd want to bite. Y'know. Mark 'em'. Whatever."
Tzuyu is kissing the outline of your shaft. Pulling your hard-on out from its confines - all gentle and tentative. Her pretty brown eyes dart upward, gauging: okay, just do your thing - you shrug - but it'd be so helpful if you could scoot to the end of the cushion for me, can you-
"Yeah," you're agreeing into the phone, somewhat vague - to no one in particular. You don't give Tzuyu just an inch; instead, you lift your thighs toward her. Sliding, Tzuyu pulls your pants down: enough. There's a delicate pressure applied at the bottom of your cock, right at the base, right where Tzuyu drags her nails. "Let's have that show off a little," your breath comes shallow, "then. Strip, real slow. We can try for something sexy I guess."
"You," Tzuyu kisses the base and shuffles up the rest of your shaft, "just love bossing people around," then her lips part: the slightest graze, then warmth, the faint suction. “Don’t you?”
"Uh-huh," says Sana, and then the rustle of cloth: and you could imagine her, really, lifting the shirt up, off, sliding it along the inside of her ribs, over the tips of her breasts - she'd cup them, lean into the contact. Sana's hands are always on her tits, or the spread of her hips - she likes the shape of her body more than anyone else. "Sometimes, that's the best way," she tells you. Her breath is hot, full of sex. "Being told what to do. Isn't that true, hm?"
Tzuyu tilts forward, lets your cock drop over her bottom lip. It leaves a smear of spit in its wake, the sensation electric. Her head falls, swallows the whole of the tip: her tongue immediately swirls. A hot little pulse. Her cheeks hollow.
"Yeah. Some could probably argue," your breath catches, the weight of the sensation, the fullness, your hips arch, your spine straightens. The electricity goes through your stomach and down your spine; you can feel the wave rolling along. Tzuyu giggling into the stiff line of your cock-
"Telling us both?" Tzuyu smiles again, running her lips slowly up and down the sides, teasing with her breath and her fingers running down the ridges. "What you want." She hums low, into the hot air.
You press your phone to your neck. "Can you, like-
Tzuyu pulls her mouth off your cock. Just sits there blinking. “Hm?” she asks, tugging a strand of her hair from the corner of her mouth.
“Just please stay quiet, or something- this is already harder than I thought it would be," the joke is as unsubtle as they come, "jesus, okay-" and put the phone back to your ear, "shit, Sana- can you, like-"
Her fucking mouth. The seal, the press - the tongue swirling around your head. Fuck.
“Yeah, babe? What do you want to know?”
The words aren't coming and a very obvious swallow is, Tzuyu leaning closer, and her fingers tangle with yours - guiding you closer, guiding your hand to the ends of her hair.
"Explain," is somehow where you land, shaky. You stick the landing just enough that Sana might buy it. "What are you doing now?"
"Slow circles. On my nipples, pinching," her voice strains, then settles,"yeah, the tip's so sensitive. Jihyo was laughing that guys always obsess over her tits. Always wanna suck, or nibble and I'm like, girl, what the hell are you complaining for?" - Tzuyu inhales a huge breath, and then another: her lips, those eyes - open and glossy, every movement steady like she knows just how to make the wait worth it - "or, or maybe I'm just weird, because the first time I felt someone's teeth and their tongue. Fuck, like, I almost screamed. Or, cried. Literally."
"Hah," and Tzuyu brings her lips lower. Moves her hair gently out of the way to take the rest of you into her mouth: bobbing up, her lips puckering in some rhythm, and her tongue darts, swirls the edge of the cock. Tongue at the slit. The pressure. Fuck, your head falls back. Every breath sounds heavy, loud. "Fingers,” you huff, “are good too I'm sure. I’d be paying close attention. Making you feel good."
"Mhm." Sana agrees. "The little pinches, ugh, I could die happy if you did just that, it's that fucking amazing."
"Baby," you half-moan. You’re struggling. The mouth stops, then sinks: down, all the way. Fucking amazing. Fucking hell.
"Oh?" Sana laughs airly, "are you touching yourself, hm? No fair, are you going to leave me all lonely here-"
You can see that smirk. The fuckery that would come: Sana's version.
"Sir," Tzuyu mumbles, sounding muffled. Her mouth is a tight vise of warmth, and your hand threads through her hair again. You hold, tighten the ribbon a bit, and Tzuyu stares at you through half-lidded eyes: you don't think she'll blink until you make her cry, and by then-
“Fuck,” Sana says, totally flat, "I'm actually pretty wet," the emphasis, "so I'd like some real advice, y'know-"
You see her legs. The tops. The bottom, all the way down- and you inhale sharply, too much and too hard.
Tzuyu has her fist at the base of your cock and her palm is sliding down the slick flesh and, a moment later, up, meeting her mouth at the top of its stroke - and, without a goddamn care, she hollows her cheeks - puckers her lips along the surface.
You were right. "This is hell."
Sana hums a laugh. "Need me that bad, huh? We're missing each other by just a couple days."
You stroke the top of Tzuyu's hair, her bow bobbing in a nice little bounce. Sana would know better than to wear her hair up. To even go near this, her throat - you hold her jaw steady, maybe a second, the moment of recovery to make Tzuyu slow and careful: her tongue does a pass at the sensitive, rigid underside of the crown, the sudden movement - before she speeds up.
"Picturing your hand." She tells you in a languid tone.
"God," you half-say, half-moan, and Tzuyu is good. So fucking good, and the mouth is too damn eager and it's difficult to think.
You barely get your hand free to switch to speaker, then let it clatter to the side. Tzuyu grinning, her lips flushed red and wet and dragging over your cock, sliding down, her tongue doing another pass, swirling at the center, the flare-
"Thinking about you, actually, fuck," Sana has a hitch to her breath that wasn't quite there before. "Doing those things, that mouth all over, Jesus Christ - ah- my legs, my breasts, fuck- are you jerking off right now? You sound, well, pretty uh, yeah."
"Just saying," you breathe, as the shock and the sensations rise and fall; Tzuyu's edging you in her mouth, her own head starting to shake, her chin bobbing up and down the full, long line of your dick - she's never done anything by halves. "It's getting- I'm thinking about you, Sana, of course, and your- pretty cunt, god, of course, so- ah, close- you said you were wet?"
"Huh? Of course, dripping. Imagining you - your thick, your cock," Sana sorta giggles, out of it then-
Tzuyu moans. Her body is pliant and her shoulders roll; she sucks, her cheeks dip, her back arches, and all of the noises hit the air thick, all while Sana's voice sharpens - both girls, two. You're slipping off the cushion, and probably out of your mind. The ache builds and burns and yearns for some sort of release-
"-how wet and tight I would feel, after so fucking long. Please, fuck, fuck-" you hear Sana, "would you, fuck, c'mon, how I would look, on top of you? Could feel- the stretch, your cock deep inside. The, fuck- friction."
There’s this beat, where it’s just Sana’s stiff breathing; you can picture her wrist between her thighs, the pump, the twist as her fingers run over and over again through the sound of her slick. You’re left wondering if she can hear too, the mouth trailing kisses along your balls, tongue gliding back up and swallowing your length whole.
“Mnph.” Tzu chokes down a little.
And you look down, you have to eventually - to see the steady stare. Tzuyu's brows pinched and her eyelashes fanning out over the hollowed curve of her cheekbones. Pretty, fuck. Beautiful. So sexy: she looks up, swallows you back, like a fucking slut. Her mouth, wet, messy, hot, and her body-
"Third finger, by the way," Sana strains, "'cause- fuck, my pussy - my tight little hole would be swallowing your cock so damn good."
"Mmm, fuck." You're reduced to your base instincts, pulling Tzuyu's hair, dragging her wet, velvety mouth onto your shaft - she follows willingly, no question of her pace slowing, but - more, and more, and you could probably cum in her mouth if her hands weren't clasped firmly over your thighs and you weren't brushing away the tears pricking the ends of Tzuyu's lashes- you won't tell. Not with your fingers. Fuck. Her nails bite at the skin of your bare legs. She looks angry, insistent. Choking.
Sana sounds just as out of sorts, out of breath, "you would feel so fucking good. Look so good. Let me have it- whatever I need, yeah?" And you think she's close: it's that keen edge, a faint, broken whine. She's never going to finish any way except- "would you, inside me? Y'know- make me cum, real full. God- are you close? Would you make a mess out of me? Of my pretty pussy?"
“Okay, holy fuck-" and the question barely even hits you.
Tzuyu is glaring now, shaking: she wants you to lose it, and she looks furious, holding her fingertips, her thumb on the base of your cock: a new pressure, a new feeling, a new pulse, a new high- she wants you to forget about Sana, maybe. What she sounds like, how she looks. Her legs wide, her bare, slicked skin on display. For you, yes. Fucking her until she- "uh, baby," and this time, your voice makes her smile, and her teeth drag. You wince. Her pupils are blown out, and there's a flush building in her chest. "Where are you?"
"Laying down. Flat- god. Where I'm always-" and you imagine a plane of soft, tanned, toned legs, her wide hips, "I'd, yeah, in a second. Pressure at my back- it would feel so fucking good, y’know, if you were here."
You have no doubt in your mind: Sana would be gorgeous. Even from the back, she'll be hotter, fuck, she always is, especially like that - and the movement of Tzuyu's fingers tightens against the straining, needy ache, and-
"Please, fuck, fuck- need to-"
"Would cum- a lot, that's it- over my back. Oh, yes, all over my back. My ass. Messy. fuck that's actually so good, jesus christ-" and then Sana lets out another soft keen and a shout - and it's so sweet and high-pitched and familiar, almost musical; she's cumming, hard. You're only a second, a third behind and-
Your balls draw tight and a coil in your stomach unfurls-
Tzuyu sees you, grins, your eyes trained on the pink of her mouth and her perfect, wet lips and the deep brown eyes - her dimpled cheek is the softest fucking thing - but the rest, her mouth, her wet heat: it's pure sensation. The tight vise of a throat swallowing, the taste on the flat of her tongue. You've got your cock shoved deep in her mouth, and you're not easy to take. Fucking Tzuyu's face, thrusting and the throbs of your cock pumping out a hot, heavy spill. More and more: sticky, filling, spreading out from the corners of her lips. Tzuyu gurgles, struggling - fuck, finally letting go with a weak pop, falling back, and the white mess runs hot over her mouth. Your release smeared across her lips, dripping off her jaw - fucking christ - her tongue, her eyelashes - a wild mess of fluid. It splatters against her pale skin - runs down the hollow of her throat to the edges of her chest. She has her fingers working fast still, a squelching tight fist: you cum all over the stupid, cutesy bow too. It's all you see, the only thing-
“Fuck,” Sana says, oblivious. “That’s good.”
-before your eyelids shutter close, a ringing in your ears and your heart racing; and, not far, another sigh, followed by the slide of your phone down the couch.
"Aw, you done already?" Sana says. Lazily. You can see the look on her face, probably rubbing her pussy and thinking about more - if there’s any two ways the girls compare, it’s this allergic reaction to anything like temperance or moderation. You need new friends, new lovers; this can’t last.
"Uh-huh." The back of your head digs into the couch cushions. Fuck. Sana. Phone. On speaker. Oh. Right. Shit. "But I was- mnph. Uhh." Your brain has lost a lot of blood. It's doing nothing. Nothing but losing blood. You wish it’d stop. “I’m here, Sana, talk to me.”
Sana giggles at that, delighted, "don't tell me you're in such bad shape I need to save you-"
"The uh," your voice slurs. Then you're pulling the phone to you, closer. Fuck. Yeah. You're an idiot. Your breath is heavy: "I could go for more, yeah, how’re you feeling?"
"So fucking tired." Her breathing sounds less ragged. A full breath. A pout: a poor me.
"Hmm." Tzuyu crawls onto you. Slides the fabric of your shirt between her palms, up and down your ribs. She pushes the sweater and tee away. Bares your stomach- then kisses there. Lower, and then rises, looking through her lashes. It's clear: a demand. She'll be insisting, pressing down on you, kissing, running her teeth along the edges of your shoulders, your neck. She’ll kiss you right now if you let her - until she sinks into a promise at the center of your body. Your back is arching off the leather from the sensitivity, and Tzuyu has her lips all over you - smiling when your hands tangle with the long strands of her hair.
She pauses. You drop a hand to Tzuyu's waist. Pinch.
"Ow-" she says, coming across slightly betrayed.
And, satisfied with the expression her face, the phone cradled between your chin, her lips warm over your ribs, her head tickling the edges of your jaw, you keep laughing, or you want to, but Tzuyu takes you between her thighs, lifts a little on your cock - her eyes widen: she's testing your flexibility. Trying to drag this out, trying for teasing. She’s good at that (a verifiable truth), but you’re you - you see right through it: she likes how it feels, the thickness and size of you. Tzuyu keeps sliding slowly down the full length, letting you fill her inch by inch - her slick heat feels unbearable.
“God,” she mutters, and she’s making the dreamiest expression - the blush in her cheeks, the eyelids hung low, the mouth slightly agape - she lifts up, then slams all the way to the base, flush. You grab anything you can to hold onto. Her legs. Her ass. Her thighs. Her jaw. That perfect little fucking waist.
She’s sublime. Your cock is bathing in her slick, the wet heat, the throbbing pulses - she's gasping in your lap, like she can’t believe how good you feel filling her cunt.
"Sana," you grit, "there's- nothing else in the world I'd rather do right now than shove my cock-”
“Ugh,” Sana sighs in agreement, in imaginary bliss. “In my little fucking pussy- you’re making me miss you, or something, jesus-”
You squeeze her thigh and her lips quirk, just barely, a challenge.
"Want put a nice thick load" - the hand on Tzuyu's hip brings her down in your lap, fucking up hard as her chest racks with breath - "in your slutty little cunt" - you fuck her faster, the sounds of flesh against flesh obscene - "fill up your pussy, princess. Would cum in it until" - and the last inch of your cock, filling Tzuyu’s cunt, you've no control - "you're a mess, you're dripping in it-"
Tzuyu's movements still. A pause. Her hips. Your own, and all the rest, every nerve in your body is on fire.
She moves with the most graceful slide, her wet lips gliding - gripping - up your cock. Then, down. The quiet. The lull. The pause before she does it again. She has cum all over her face, and she’ll kill you. You’ll let her.
"God. We'll have to get around to it," Sana finally tells you, dryly, "when this fucking snow clears. Say hi to Tzuyu for me won’t you?"
-
You're not a bad person.
(The reassurance that you aren’t - or don’t want to be? - is probably still not super convincing. There's some line drawn there, blurred, crossed, and thoroughly annihilated by your actions, you think, vaguely, but maybe it's better if no one sees, hears, finds out. The finer details matter a lot less at that point.)
You're like anybody else: you get desperate to hold onto something, somebody, even for just a moment. Sometimes you don’t even need a reason at all.
Tzuyu is stepping out of the shower, her head bobbing: it takes everything in you not to drag her back in there. She’d let you. She wouldn’t even complain.
You can hear the catch and the slide of a bath towel, the wisp of water hitting the bottoms of her feet and trailing, an exaggerated moan - a gesture, meant to entice, a suggestion: fuck her right back in the shower until her hair is plastered to her cheeks, and she's panting. Or the steam lifts her breasts in a gentle, humid press. That mouth on the tiles - sobbing.
“Tzu,” you call out, and she just continues humming some indifferent tune.
You pull a thick sweater over your head: it's gray wool, and it's all clean and good and new. When she wraps her arms around you, a deep inhale: a grin, then a shiver. She's naked and dripping everywhere, wet hair leaving a trail in its wake. She burrows her face in the folds of fabric at your spine - and if you turned, the slightest movement, the smooth line of her torso would be exposed, and your fingers could trace down her belly button, the tips dipping between her legs-
The window is fogging at the bottom, the steam slipping out in tendrils - but the heat can't compete against the girl all wet and dripping, and it does nothing but give way to the cold, seeping in.
"I still think it's funny," she says, all matter of fact. "It's weird that this isn't awkward."
“What’s that?”
She's at the doorway.
“Us. Being here.”
You turn, and Tzuyu pulls at your sweater: looking for attention, always seeking out the easy praise. Her hand automatically slides beneath the cloth of your collar, drawing your jaw up for a short, hard kiss.
"Okay," and there's a small nod, the line of her throat pulsing as she breathes, "yeah," her chest rising and falling.
"Look at you,” you tell her. “All dry and tidy. Cute. "
A dumb comment earns you the tiniest smile, then she's leaning back, taking her hands to her hair and wringing out the water, pulling and tugging at the tangles - the towel wraps around her waist again and again, and she looks good, clean: it makes you think of what comes later. Not having to give a fuck - at least not for a little while.
"Jeez," she's shivering, still, and rubbing the tops of her arms, "and Sana is gonna be, like, all over you once she gets the chance. Wants a nice lay too, from the sound of it. Was being honest about that. Seems pretty pent up."
“Maybe you can help,” you offer, a bit flippant. She smiles - but in all seriousness, it’s a resounding: no.
There's something else, too, as she runs her fingertips, absently, through her hair - it falls flat on her neck and around her bare shoulders, dark against the lightness of her skin, but somehow you get the impression that she's not entirely preoccupied. "Y'know, I had a really good time and all, but I'm not the homewrecker type, yeah - it's not worth the stress," a slight shrug, like she isn't certain, her mind a little more tangled than usual, and for good reason, too, "probably won't hook up ever again."
"Gloomy," you tease.
"Don’t act like you're not going to miss it," she says, conspiratorial - and Tzuyu plants herself where you can feel her in your space - but she doesn't press. "Even when you're keeping busy, you'll have the smallest reminder, like - aha, Tzuyu would've really liked this, or that - when, y'know - you're stuck somewhere, thinking about the weather," and her cheeks are heating with color as her tongue forms the syllables - and the meaning is clear now as it always was.
“Even if you’re like, totally smitten, or whatever with her,” she adds, smirking.
"Sana will be back to her usual antics in no time. Being annoying and forward and whatever," you reply. "Won't miss much."
The girl's expression flickers a little - a slight twitch - but otherwise, a flat look.
She fixes the lay of her towel across her wide hips. You reach for her arm: pull at it, pulling her toward.
"I mean- Sana and I have a few things in common, anyway. Something in common. Can both be a spoilsport. Dull. Can be a bit, uh, territorial, if you you know-"
The rest is cut off, the words running into a kiss, deep and desperate; there's no place like her mouth: soft, eager, hot.
"And our usual antics?" she asks.
She leans into you, the chill starting to set, a fire burning nearby: something clandestine that maybe shouldn't last as long as it does. A log settling against the others, another plume of heat, and you say, a touch solemn,
"Dunno if we've ever been in common about anything, babe."
"Jeez. You don't have to spell it out like that, do you?" Tzuyu laughs lightly, holding the bath towel at her hips - her breasts are bare. They fall without support, her nipples, the slope of her ribs, everything. "I mean, how cruel."
(It isn't really. Because, here's the thing. In the grand scheme of things, Chou Tzuyu was never really supposed to happen at all.)
-
The snow clears, like all things you suppose, slowly and with a sigh: with the change in winds and a promise for a gradual spring. Tzuyu steals a shirt. Doesn't seem inclined to return it, says she's good at letting her imagination do half the work in lieu of the actual sex. (The nip is like a sting: it'll last longer, apparently. The bruising at the edges of her waist is more abstract.)
You’re in the driveway. Tzuyu’s leaning back on her luggage.
She kisses you like she wants to make you lose something: her lipstick, her mind, her heart or soul. And when her arms slide, her mouth parting - her tongue darting and sweeping, taking - Tzuyu knows a good many things about herself. She knows you, too. What makes her wet, what gets her off. What part of you will always come back to her. But her hair falls heavy: so much silk. She's laughing - a grin and she's licking the pink right off her teeth and she's beautiful and you think you'll want this always:
A girl like her, kissing so eager for you-
"You can totally say it first," she tells you, that mouth at the edge of your ear.
"Um," you say, and she settles down a little further, her wrists locked behind your neck. "You are so: clingy."
The look she gives you is adorable. All dimple, no worry. “Yeah, so?”
“How is that fair?”
"I don't really care if it is or isn’t. We’d be good together - and that’s a fact. So say something good, or I'm getting in that cab right now."
So you do. You do. The first word, the syllable, the way you ask her, the sound that is something like: mine, and the way it dries the edge of your throat; you kiss it away and she giggles because maybe this means, after a while, you really are as terrible as she always hoped.
She'll give you everything. She says, yours, and it would always be you; she halts a bit, and says it like she’s thawing a revelation, one that’s been there since the start - says she loves you and she always has. You laugh and she says it again: always.
-
Sana ends up standing in the cabin a day later. The same place you stood, watching Tzuyu lick yogurt off her spoon. Her coat looks expensive. There's her purse. The boots. That red-painted mouth. Her eyes are fixed, and she sees nothing out of the ordinary. Which is probably, you think, ideal.
"That's funny," her face betrays nothing.
The cabin smells a little like burning wood, vaguely: peppermint tea. An electric kind of heat and the warmth of the sun. It had smelled like evidence prior, the way a girl gets with her underwear missing, hair a tangled mess, body sore and aching, a wet bed. You'd looked like a pair of kids caught in a terrible storm, a lovers' quarrel in a small space - or, just: well-fucked.
"What's funny?" is how you finally manage.
"I just mean," she starts again, "she used to have like. The craziest crush on you. It would’ve been cute if it wasn't sorta sad. Did you know? You couldn't, I guess." She shrugs: a heavy lift of her shoulders, a release. The tension is leaking everywhere. "Must've been torture for her to get stuck here with you."
"Huh," you say, like you were missing something, which is exactly the wrong tone and definitely the wrong sentiment. “Oh, the crush. That. Sure.” You’re suppressing a smile. “Torture, yeah. Hey. Don't worry about it. I’m sure we’ll be fine."
-
(You can’t stop running it back through your head, her long dark hair disappearing into the cab. She loves you and you love her, and it’s got this beautiful caveat of being something simple-complex. Like, who would ever believe any of this? Like, who else even matters?
You say, you belong to me, and she agrees without even thinking.
“You always knew, though. From the start, you always did. I was never going to be anyone else's," and then she pouts. "Wouldn’t hurt telling me, from time to time."
And the mountains have a way of feeling like the end, sounding like the closing score, the credits - you look out at the white caps and reflect: maybe you shouldn’t have let her go. Maybe you should chase after her. Maybe you could still make it work. Maybe you should consider that a promise.
You look up at the sky, the pale blue - and maybe you can afford to let her go.
You know you’ll only find your way back.)
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✧˖ ?! — DRIVING SERVICES. - (SUGGESTIVE)
— ‧₊˚ — 🏍 : "y'know you're pretty ungrateful for a person who gets hopped off and picked up to and from work everyday by no other then me.. "??
summary. your boyfriend driving both of y'all a lil carelessly, turns into a bickering sesh which turns into him accussing you of not repaying him enough for his 'driving services' - well oh how wrong he is and how could you prove just that??
notes. FINALLYYY BACK!!!! (it's been ten days but we move), i'm finished with exams FOR NOW and the rest of the week and the next one i'm pretty much free and i rly feel like writing again!! hope you enjoy <3<3
warnings/includes. non idol? jungkook x non specified! reader, established relationship, motorcycling background (duh), they're so bickering i love 'em!! (they're a lil mean to eachother but lovingly), blatant flirting, 'brat' + 'bending over' mentioned
"why can you never just be happy? always have to insult me tsk tsk" jungkook shook his head dramatically, taking of the black dome, running his tattoed hand through his luscious hair somehow managing to make it look straight out of a shampoo ad.
"cause you drive like a fucking maniac, do you even see yourself when you take sharp turns?" he turns around fully, lips parted, eyes wide, making that lil noise of surpise and faint amusement that's a mix of a grunt and an intake of breath as he rolls his eyes when you added: "i see the gates of heaven the second your hands touch the hand clutch"
he opens his mouth and closes it instantly after, a small teny tiny grin on his face, hands slapping the motorcycle seat lovingly like trying to underline his point, "y'know you're pretty ungrateful for a person who gets hopped off and picked up to and from work everyday by no other then me and.... her" he slaps the motorcycle gently once more, raising his eyesbrows, piercings moving slightly - like trying to silently mimick 'you wish that was you huh'
"are you really trying to make me jealous with a motorcycle?" you can't even hide the smile that sneaks its way onto your face, looking into his face, his own lips not quite settling themselves.
"my point still stands- you should repay me more often... for my immaculate driving services" the immediate shift closer to you almost remarkable, his arms pushing through, hands settling on the motorcycle back right behind you- basically trapping you.
his eyes now being the ones not knowing where to settle, moving from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes the second he notices you noticing his tiny dilemma he let out a overly dramatic sigh, like completly careless and unbothered.
"oh i think i'm treating you just fine and i think i'm just grateful enough considering the fact that your driving services are..... best case scenario questionable"
he furrowed his brows, one hand immediately finding his own heart acting like he just got shot, "ouch, you additionaly hurt my feelings each day"
he pauses, looking around the parking lot not far from your apartment, "you act like a brat a little to much sometimes"
you mindlessly toy with the incredibly lose tie around his neck, not failing to hold eye contact, taking your sweet time with responding, "i think that's just what you like actually, you're not even really mad at me rn"
his tongue that was just playing with his lips piercing paused, lips forming into a knowing smirk - you got him all figured out "what makes you believe in that theory?"
"if you actually were, you would've had me bent over the bike already but you don't-" he cut you off straight away, hands beginning to lazily run through your hair, feeling the thin strands between his fingers, "i never even told you why i drive a tiny tiny little bit carelessly sometimes- my mind is just always filled with the things we could do, it's so hard being me"
you rolled your eyes once more, pushing him away from you jokingly, "i wish i had even just a piece of the confidence you have"
he took your hand, instantly walking ahead of you basically pulling you from behind him out the parking lot, making that 'tsk tsk' sound once more, "i'm still considering the bending over by the way-"
some biking terms explained (i googled them all pls correct me if wrong):
'dome' — biker slang for motorcycling helmet 'hand clutch' — basically the steering wheel of a motorcycle
#kpop smut#bts ff#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts imagines#bts x you#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook fic#jungkook x you#jungkook fanfic#jungkook imagine
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Okay, to counteract all my complaining, here are some (lore friendly) mods that I just like a lot (no animals, people, weapons/armors, mesh/texture replacers, etc. because there's too many and it gets boring.)
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Ghosts of the Deathbells: adds a really rare, somber event to picking a deathbell flower.
Falmeroon: adds Snow Elf ruins to some remote edges of the map. I've made an unofficial SE port here.
Snow Whale Bones: adds the remains of Snow Whales in some mountainous areas (iffy canon but sorry they are Cool.)
Windmills of Skyrim: adds windmills with unique, custom-painted sails to farms.
Scarecrows of Skyrim: adds scarecrows to farms.
Scribes of Skyrim: makes books and notes use a variety of typefaces (any fellow Pentiment fans out there?)
The Old Ways-Nordic Religion: adds totems representing the Nordic pantheon around Skyrim. Has patches for the next recommendation.
The Great Towns/Villages series: overhauls the smaller, worldspace towns in a really cool way, includes voice-acted NPCs. Personally, I like Kynesgrove the best because it actually adds to the lore about the Nordic pantheon. For Shor's Stone, I recommend this mod as well.
Redbag's Rorikstead: I like this mod over Great Village's version because the houses have sod roofs and I'm a sucker for sod roofs.
Capital Windhelm Expansion: adds some really thoughtful lore touches (Dunmer refugees outside the walls, an Arena, and a cool vampire quest)
Relic of Dawnstar: adds a Gehenoth skull to the White Hall (requires Cities of the North), inspired by the lore of the Travels game
Environs series: thoughtful additions that makes certain places change over time.
WiZKid's mods: especially Lund's Hut, Lively Farms, Icy Windhelm, Pinewatch, Hall of the Dead Stained Glass Windows, and Pavo's House. Sepolcri is also pretty good but loses immersion points for using celtic cross gravestones. You can pry Lanterns of Skyrim II from my cold, dead hands, though. Lux? Idk her, LoSII is my bestie.
Fancy Sleeping Tree Replacer: the Sleeping Tree is supposed to be a remnant of the sentient trees of the flying city of Umbriel (from the novels.) It should be weird, is what I'm saying, and this mod makes it alien and beautiful.
Unique Culture Riverwood: a mod that gives Riverwood its own style of farmhouse and a little more personality. The author has also made a mod for Falkreath.
Immersive World Encounters: adds more and edits World Encounters, including encountering faction NPCs out and about (ex. the Companions outside of Whiterun doing Companion-y things in the wilderness).
Glorious Doors of Skyrim: adds some really cool doors. 'nuff said.
Redbag's Dragonreach: adds some unique flair to Jarl Ballin's crib.
Cultured Orc Furniture: replaces generic furniture in Orc Strongholds with custom furniture.
Lavinia's Memorial: adds some gifts from her grieving parents to the little girl's grave in Falkreath. Ouch.
Nocturnal Moths: adds moths that spawn around lanterns at night.
Moons and Stars: fixes the positions of the stars and moons, as well as making moon phases consistent.
DK's Realistic Nord Ships: replaces Skyrim's ships with some gorgeous new models.
Morgenstern's Mushroom Circles: adds more fairy rings in the wilderness. Delightful!
Bloodmoon Brodir Grove: makes the grove in Solstheim a little more like it was in the Morrowind DLC. The mod author also has more mods that bring Bloodmoon details and locations to Solstheim.
Ships of the Horizon: does what it says on the tin.
EVG Animation Variance: the whole animation series by Everglaid is nice (haven't tried Traversal yet, but that is some incredible technology) but I especially like this one for the old people animations
jasperthegnome's houses: these are SO cozy and comfy.
Arctic- Frost Effects Redux: makes frost spells have cooler effects (including 3D ice spikes)
Northern Roads- Let Me Guess Someone Stole Your Sweetroads: a plugin that cuts down on Northern Roads, removing all the landscape changes and bridges and just keeping the clutter. Way more compatible than the original mod.
Skyrim Bridges: this is my favorite bridge mod. There are many, but I like this one best.
Edit: forgot two tiny mods in my original post:
Nightcaller Temple Unique Shrine of Mara: replaces the generic shrine with a wooden shrine Erandur carved
Broken Tower Redoubt Unique Shrine of Dibella: similar to the above mod, but Reachmen carved this one.
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When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt.4
Alright bestie you know the drill. Uh, this one's a bit longer than usual though. Enjoy?
Pt.1
To say Danny was having a bad day would be the understatement of the century. Well it wasn’t really a bad ‘day’ more like a terrible series of events that just kept getting worse. Oddly enough, though, this terrible horrible day did not start with killing the Joker, then promptly getting interrogated by a surprisingly cute serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante. In fact it actually started seven hours earlier at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Danny’s roommate had practically kicked him out of the dorm so he could have ‘date night with his girlfriend’ but it was said in a way that made Danny nope out of there real fast.
‘It’s fine, I’ll just use this time to explore Gotham a bit,” he thought to himself. Turns out Gotham, with its incredibly high crime rate and massive amount of curses - seriously? How could one city be this cursed- has a lot of ghosts. Ghosts that seem to be very happy someone can see them. This would have been fine, Danny would have been happy to help, If they hadn’t swarmed him.
Mere moments after he had addressed a shade Danny had found themself in the middle of a mob, shades, imprints, spirits, etc, all vying for attention, help with something here, or just plain attention.
It took them 3 hours to lose the mob.
And it wasn’t even all of them, a few blob ghosts clung to him as he explored the piers, shades following at his heels, weaving in and out of shadows bringing general bad luck because of course, why not.
Danny just wanted a scoop of icecream? Sorry it fell on the floor. Oh look at that his shoes are untied, would be a shame if he- ouch that must have hurt. Just trying to sit on a bench and relax? Aww that's a cute seagull, here have some of Danny’s pretzel. Okay thats enough- ow what the fuck? Ack no stop! stop-!
So yeah, exploring the pier turned out to be not the most safe idea for all the strangest reasons. Danny had to leave before the shades did any real damage like throwing him into the bay, or splitting the boardwalk underneath him.
Danny had just lost yet another pack of attention seeking ghosts when he felt the eyes. It was the uncomfortable prickling that made the hair on his arms and neck stand on end. “Just find a place to get dinner, it’ll be fine," he thought, quickening his pace toward the batburger he had designated on a map he’d found at the pier.
Now what Danny didn’t know, being new to town and all, was that Park Row was not a place you should be walking by yourself, at night, with black hair and blue eyes. That was just asking for trouble, and oh boy trouble they got. Before a single thought could flash through their head, Danny had been pulled into an alley, a large figure pinning their hands behind their back. Danny twisted around, trying to gain purchase and maybe get a look at their attackers face, but stiffened as they spoke, low and gruff.
“Awww what’re you doing in crime alley all alone kiddie?” he crooned, “Don’t you know it's not safe?” Danny’s growing panic reached a peak as another figure melted out of the shadows of the dingy alley, “Boss, what do you think? He could be a Wayne." The ‘Boss’ leaned forward to inspect Illuminated by a nearby streetlight. Danny’s eyes blew wide at the painted white face, impossibly huge smile, puke green hair, and pristine purple suit in front of him.
He hardly heard him berate the goon
“This isn’t a Wayne you imbecile, it's just some random street rat” Hey
“But- he could be, he fits the bill,” the conversation drowned out as Danny stared, stock still. They could feel the ectoplasm in their blood pooling at their fingertips, the tingling sensation sending prickles down their spine.
The last thought that crossed their mind before a flash of green enveloped the alley was; ‘Fuck, I hate clowns.’
When the light died down they were free, the goon a few feet away on the ground, eyes wide in shock or horror, they couldn’t tell. Danny, eyes no doubt still glowing, followed his gaze to the crumpled purple mass at his feet. Oh shit.
“You- you- I’m getting out of here,” the goon shouted, pointing a shaking finger at him as he scrambled away. Danny just stared down at the clown in shock. Sure he’d fought a lot of dead people but ancients he’d never killed someone himself. Taking a deep breath he tried remembering those grounding tricks Jazz had taught him to ward off panic. He focused on his breathing, closing his eyes as the steady rhythm of his too slow heart beat in his ears. After a few moments he exhaled deeply, running a shaking hand through his hair as the other reached for his phone.
And, well, we know this part.
-------
It was almost 1 am by the time Hood got Danny back to their dorm. They had of course protested that they didn’t need the escort and it's all fine- because truly Danny had no intentions of returning to their dorm- but Hood had insisted, continuing the interrogation as they walked.
“Do you have any siblings”
“two”
“Where are you from?”
“illinois”
“What's your favorite color?”
“Green probably”
At the very least the questioning served to calm Danny’s nerves and distract them from the less-than-happy thoughts. There was also something about Hood that made Danny’s core pull in his chest. Aside from very obviously smelling like death- something he had chalked up to being a serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante - the man kept making his ghost sense go off, but it always caught in his throat rather than escaping. Danny had almost choked the first time and it was starting to get annoying, it reminded him of being around Vlad. It piqued his interest regardless.
So when the noises coming through the door confirmed that; no, Danny should not go try entering his dorm and that he would definitely not be getting what little sleep his body could manage after the night’s events, he decided on some reconnaissance. Because if he wasn’t getting sleep, he would be at least getting answers for that weird feeling. He let invisibility wash over him and retraced his steps back to the building entrance. Hood was long gone but it didn’t matter. Danny soon took to the sky, staying low enough he wasn’t breathing in the dense clouds
of smog but still high enough to scan the streets from above the rooftops.
It felt amazing honestly. He hadn’t been able to fly since before he got to Gotham, and while it the air wasn’t as clean and the sky wasn’t a glowing blanket of stars like it was in Amity, but with the rush of wind, subtle glow of the street lights, and the soft din of night traffic, it still reminded him of home. In a way it was peaceful, if you discounted the ever present police sirens, occasional pop of gunfire, and general filthiness of the city.
As Danny wove through the street and alleys of Gotham he couldn’t help but to think about his hometown. He knew Amity would be protected of course. The GIW hadn’t been a threat since the Meta Human protection acts were passed, even though ghosts weren’t considered metas the investigation had been enough to disband the agency. His parents probably couldn't pose too much of a threat to any ghosts, especially with the portal being closed (he'd made Valerie promise to keep it shut, since she'd decided to stay in Amity), and even if someone from his rogues gallery managed to make it through, Red Huntress was more than capable to handle it.
Jazz had even managed to drill it into their head that Danny wasn’t responsible for the protection of Amity, as much as they thought they were. Being a hero didn’t make them happy, at least not in the way they were. Danny actually loved helping people, and fighting his rouges on occasion. But being Phantom was so stressful, the late nights, the missed school, the barely dodged calls to cps, it was all so much. So Danny had given up Phantom just in time to start senior year. Granted it was a little late to completely turn his academic career around, but he made an effort and now he’s studying Engineering at Gotham University on a near complete scholarship from the Wayne foundation. All of this though and Danny still felt an inkling of worry for his town, even if it was in capable hands. He was working on it though.
He knew back at the start of senior year that he wouldn’t be able to hang up Phantom forever, afterall he was a part of Danny that couldn’t be ignored (it would quite literally be detrimental to his health), that and the fact that he existed on the precipice of life and death meant he would always have some ghost or another vying for his attention. One of his regulars wanting a fight, someone new deciding they want to test his mettle, or just a lower powered ghost wanting some help, and as long as it didn’t affect his schedule too much or get him too high on the Bats radar Danny would be happy to oblige.
So he didn’t mind it much when, after he’d started losing hope in finding Hood - Damn that guy can disappear- he felt his ghost sense go off. The sharp air escaped his lungs in a sudden gasp, never failing to stop his chest for a moment. Danny felt the ice melt in his mouth as he scanned the streets for whomever had set it off. He couldn’t see anything but something- someone- was pulling at his core, beckoning him to a nearby rooftop.
There wasn't anything special about this particular building, just an old beat down 24/7 convenience store. Danny flew around it a few times before landing gently on the roof’s edge. They didn't know what they should be looking for as the area seemed to be entirely empty. But his confusion proved to be short lived when the surrounding shadows seemingly condensed in front of them. The dim and flickering neon sign to their left somehow got dimmer and more flickery, and what little moonlight that had wormed its way through the thick clouds was all but swallowed by the swirling mass of shadow.
The massive shadow was towering almost three feet over Danny by the time it began taking shape. And it wasn’t quite humanoid, but the flowing gown and veil reminded them of a mourning widow. Her eye glowed a flickering grey, and her skin was made of the same shadow as her gown. She was beautiful, Danny’s breath caught in their throat. They didn’t know why, but they dropped to one knee, bowing their head to the shadowy figure.
The woman chuckled, a sweet chirping sound that echoed and reverberated around the rooftop. When she spoke, her voice was just more than a whisper, yet sweet and full, even behind that recognisable Jersey accent, “Rise child.” Danny obeyed. “You are powerful, young one, I can see it in you.” Her eyes flickered to Danny’s chest, hovering just where his core sat. “You are the ghost child from Amity, yes? I’ve heard much about you and your exploits. I must say, not many could go toe to toe with Pariah Dark and come out victorious.”
Danny’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he nodded, “It was difficult, but I had help.”
The woman hummed, “Even still. Is it true he still exists? In the forever sleep, you have not yet consumed his core?”
“I- no I have not,” Danny said. This was another of those things Danny had decided to ignore. A few months after they had locked Pariah away the Observants had tracked him down at school, resulting in a panicked request for the bathroom and a whole week of strife. Apparently, according to ghost politics, Danny had become heir to the crown of the ghost king. All that belonged to Pariah was now Danny’s, won in single combat. And if the news that he would become the new King of The Infinite Realms wasn’t enough, he had also been informed that to take the throne he would have to consume Pariah’s core, just as he had done when he won the throne from his predecessor.
This news had overloaded Danny’s brain and he had spent the past three years pointedly ignoring that fact about his half life. He’d get around to it… eventually. Luckily three years wasn’t much time for immortal floating eyeballs so it hadn’t become much of an issue. But he’d run out of time and would have to face the music at some point.
“But it is true that Pariah still exists, in eternal slumber for the time being.” He continued, squirming under the woman’s scrutinous gaze, “Ah, but if you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”
This elicited another set of giggles from the woman, err, girl? She had shrunk to the size of a young girl in a knee length black dress, a feathered beret sitting on a curly bob of dark hair. Her giggles grew, consuming the rooftop in the joyous sound. The laughing ceased as the young girl tilted her head to the side, just a little too far for a human. A grin spread wide across her face and something sparked in her eyes.
“I am Lady Gotham, princling, I thought that was obvious…” She trailed off for a moment then continued with renewed enthusiasm, “ I heard that you are a protector of your hometown, do you intend to assist my knights while you are here?”
Lady Gotham, Danny had heard of her. The supposed amalgamation of everything that made the city what it was. A combination of the pain and suffering as well as the fierce stubbornness and love of those who called the city home. Being a spirit she wasn’t seen often in the Ghost Zone, but those who passed through the veil brought stories of their protectoress. A Lady fierce, vindictive and unforgiving to those she considered an enemy. A being that collected curses like postage stamps. But also one who cared deeply for her city, and even more so for her knights who cared for her just as much.
Danny felt humbled in her presence.
He ducked his head, sheepish as he answered her, “My apologies my Lady, I have long since hung up my cape to pursue the remainder of my life. But should you call for my help I will not hesitate to do all in my power to aid you, or your knights.”
Lady Gotham hummed, pleased, “I appreciate the promise I will keep it in mind. After all, just tonight you have already helped my city so much. I want you to know that no matter how it may weigh on you; what you did was good. By taking his life you saved countless more, accident or no. And for that I thank you.” Stunned, Danny nodded. “I am afraid I must depart now, holding form isn’t difficult but I must say it makes it harder to spread my shadows. I wish you the best princling.” The girl before him smiled then melted -like actually melted- into a pool of shadow at Danny’s feet. As the cloud dissipated, the faint light of the convenience store returned, casting a dim staticky glow.
Danny stood mulling over her words for a few moments before laying down on the roof’s edge. The silence was punctuated only by the faint buzzing of electricity emitted from the neon sign, but it did little to distract him from the thoughts he’s been running from all night.
The thought that he had actually killed someone.
What Lady Gotham hada said was probably true, the Joker's death was a good riddance, he had killed tens-of-thousands, and probably tens-of-thousands more. Taking him out of the equation was a good thing. But that didn’t change the fact that Danny had killed him. Danny had never killed a person before, not directly at least. He wasn’t deaf to the notion that some people may have died during one of his ghost fights, in fact he was painfully aware of each person he had failed to save. But he had never been at direct fault for a murder until now. It shook him to the bones.
Did this make him a murderer?
He stewed in these thoughts for hours, only being pulled from them by an inkling of sunlight breaking through the towering buildings hitting his eyes. Groaning, he sat up, painfully aware of how tired he was. “Probably not getting any sleep though” He could feel the bags under his eyes growing with the lack of sleep. However he did manage to get off the roof and transform back into his living form, ‘need coffee’ He thought blearily as he began making his way down the street, maybe he’d find a shop or something.
What he did not expect was to be pulled into an alley for the second time that night (Morning? Oh what does it matter he’s getting mugged).
Their assailant, no more than two inches shorter than Danny with an unkempt beard and suspiciously stained shirt, had them pinned to the wall, a knife at their throat.
“Empty your pockets!” he shouted, digging the knife further against their skin. Danny suppressed a yawn, they really did not have enough energy to deal with this. Luckily they didn’t have to. The rumbling of a motorcycle filled the air as a blur of red and black turned into the alley. The mugger barely had time to shout “Hey!” before Red Hood decked him in the face.
“Twice in eight hours?” He asked, the grin almost audible in his voice as Hood tied up the man, “I know you’re not from here, but that’s still gotta be some kind of record,” Honestly Danny would have been more upset if he wasn’t so tired, but even so;
“Wee it’s not like I’m Trying to get attacked. I just wanted some fucking coffee,” he ground out.
“At four in the morning?”
“It’s almost six,” Danny muttered after sneaking a quick glimpse at his watch - a black digital one with little blob ghosts on it, a gift from Dani. “Besides it’s not like I was planning on sleeping anytime soon,” he continued. That same weird feeling from earlier tugged at his core during the silence that followed. Of there being a ghost nearby, but his cold gasp getting caught in his throat before escaping. Danny could almost feel the thrum of another core, but there was something muffling it. It made Danny wrinkle his nose.
Despite his wish to investigate the fact of Hood’s weird probably-a-core, Danny also really wanted to get out of this awkward situation. But hey it seemed like Hood was stalking him anyway so this probably wouldn’t be his only chance.
“I should probably be going now,” they said, moving to exist the grimy alley, stepping over the unconscious form of his would-be-mugger-#2. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a bit more careful this time,” They threw over their shoulder with a grin before leaving.
A weight settled on their shoulder as they walked away. Ancients this night was eventful. Hopefully their roommate was finally finished with ‘date night’ enough to allow Danny a couple hours of sleep. But first; coffee.
+++++
Humans I am so sorry for this chapter (because yes it's a chapter). I was just going to write another little installment from Danny’s Pov and then ended up with over 3k words which is like adding up the word counts of all three other chapters. But i think it turned out good so win some lose some. Anyway, all the exposition is out of the way so we’ll be going back to silly goofy fun times now. Also sorry about the kind-of angst, I didn’t mean to, it just appeared.
What were your thoughts on Lady Gotham? I’m fairly happy with how I wrote her, she will definitely be returning
No I will not add you to the tag list, I don't mean to be mean but I just down have the brain power for that <3
Subscrib to the Ao3
Pt 5
#When You Accidentally Kill a Clown#bucket writes things#danny phantom#dp x dc#danny fenton#dc#dp x dc crossover#jason todd#Obligatory Lady Gotham Cameo#exposition woAH#Man Danny's just ahd a bad day huh#like losing his icecream? getting attacked by a seagull? poor guy#threw out the GiW befoe rhe plot cause thats just angst in the making and im trying not to wnable bad habits#dead on main
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BnHA Chapter 406: Secret Menu Hero Name
Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all “NOT EVEN DEATH ITSELF CAN STOP ME!!!” and saved All Might so easily and spectacularly that it immediately became clear why Horikoshi had to keep him on ice for fourteen months straight. All Might was all “thanks for the assist Bakugou-shounen, now please allow me to show my gratitude by lending you my SWEETASS ROBOT ARM that nearly gave makeste a fucking heart attack when she saw it, HOLY SHIT.” Kacchan was all “I JUST LIKE TO SMILE, SMILING’S MY FAVORITE” and he smiled the BIGGEST EVER and indeed has literally not STOPPED smiling ever since, and my heart is warm. <3333
Today on BnHA: A jubilant menace stirs in the air. A chill runs down Kid For One’s spine. A sudden crash behind him. He whirls around, only to be met with the face of Chaos itself in all its raucous glory. The boy is relentless. His pursuit, unending. His blows, unyielding. And his mirth, as perplexing as it is petrifying. What the fuck. Why won’t he stop laughing. He’s laughing. Horikoshi is laughing. The readers are all laughing. You’re laughing. Kid For One is shitting his pants while this cackling sleep paralysis demon gleefully chips away at his frail sanity, one frenetic BOOM at a time. And you’re laughing. :|
doo de doo, don’t mind me, just gonna scroll past the first couple pages of this chapter so I don’t get spoiled for the outcomes of all the other mini-battles I haven’t finished catching up with yet :’)
though I already caught a glimpse of a bloodied-up Shouji before I realized what was happening, so unfortunately that particular cat is now out of the bag. can’t believe the suspense of whether or not Shouji would survive his fight is now completely ruined for me. can you even imagine how tense it would have been wondering whether or not Shouji would get killed off. ...and you know what, even as I type this, I’m realizing that this is really not the type of sarcasm that translates very well across the internet, lol. and even if it did, it could just as easily come across as “WOW, MAKESTE REALLY DOESN’T CARE ABOUT SHOUJI AT ALL, HUH” sarcasm, rather than the “it’s not that serious guys, it’s just that there’s no possible way Horikoshi could ever convince me that he was actually going to kill off one of the kids” sarcasm it was intended as! so yeah. you know what, I’m just going to shut up about all this now and move on. glad he’s okay though
so now back to the Main Character Battlefield, where Kacchan is currently having way too good of a time for someone who actually WAS killed off by Horikoshi fairly recently
All Might is all “he’s so fast!” and yeah he really is lol. ngl, I had a fair amount of Kacchan endgame theory stuff riding on his ability to meaningfully upgrade his speed, so all of this is very satisfying to hear! and to be fair, I do wonder how much of it is owed to the boost from Gearshift as opposed to Katsuki’s own newly acquired exploding bloodsweat. but I’d like to think that even without GS he’s still incredibly fucking fast at this point. like easily still a Top 3 BnHA Speedy Boi
well shit lol now Edgeshot is reminding everyone that even prior to his “death”, Kacchan was briefly able to surpass Tomura’s speed with his upgrade
well there you have it! so yeah, that basically confirms he’s currently even faster than All Might was at his peak. just a homicidal little comet casually zipping around all of these other slowpokes
lol
just for the record, I still have no clue how Kacchan’s bizarre new upgrade actually works, but I am fairly certain that sweat is NOT SUPPOSED TO EVER DO THAT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES
like seriously though Kacchan, doesn’t this hurt? like at all?
(ETA: hahahaha. ouch.)
well whatever!! if Tomura was able to bypass Erasure’s loopholes with all of his hand nonsense, then Kacchan’s sweat has my permission to zoom around inside his bloodstream and randomly explode inside him to somehow make him faster without actually harming him in any way, AND THAT’S FINE. the time for nitpicking ended roughly around the same time that a soft-spoken paracord man dove inside of him to forcefully restart his organs
LOL
“DON’T GET ME WRONG, I COULD EASILY KILL HIM ANY TIME I WANT! I JUST DON’T FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT RIGHT NOW, OKAY. THAT’S DEFINITELY WHAT IT IS, AND IT’S DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE HE JUST EXPLODED ME SO HARD THAT I SAW THE FOURTH DIMENSION”
meanwhile back in Dekutown it looks like Tomura has maybe finally broken free of his impromptu Blackwhip toddler leash
whatever man. how are you still not redeemed yet since I last saw you in chapter 369. you had like an entire year’s worth of chapters. get it together already!!
lol what in the actual fuck is “instadeath”
is this just a Funny Ha Ha fanscan way of referring to Decay?? or were there some additional Tomura quirk developments that I missed out on which were somehow even wilder than the infinityhands
Deku keeps saying that he’s for serious REALLY going to run out of Gearshifts now, but I don’t fucking believe a word this kid says tbh
it will be the “final one” once the fight is finally over, and not a moment sooner. if I know anything about Deku, which I do. and Gearshift, which to be fair I really don’t
-- oh, fuck yeah
what the hell is up with that swirly hand shit though, Kid For One. you better knock that off right now
OH MY GOD THIS FUCKING GUY FOR REAL THOUGH!!
:/ well at least this time you’re being ignored because he’s actually scared shitless of you. shh. don’t tell anyone
holy shit this chapter keeps hitting me with these random bits of information Destiel meme-style and it’s the wildest fucking thing
so while I did obviously clue in to the fact that something must have gone down in the Endeavor+Hawks+Toko+Jirou VS AFO battle, on account of AFO very clearly not being in Jakku anymore, I have not yet caught up to that part of the series, so I don’t actually know anyone’s status! hopefully they’re all alive and relatively unmaimed! although they very clearly failed at their One Job, but oh well
that being said, “AS STRONG AS DARK SHADOW” looooooool omg. DS what did you do. my boy left an impression. I cannot wait to read that, oh goodness
KFO YOU LITTLE TWERP, DIDN’T ANYONE EVER TELL YOU YOU SHOULDN’T LOOK DOWN ON OTHER PEOPLE OR ELSE YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SEE YOUR OWN WEAKNESSES
seems like someone ought to have told you that. could have spared you a lot of pain and agitation to come. more’s the pity
hee hee hee
hello there
so now my feral wolfchild is having a big internal monologue about how he’s finally mastered his new superquirk through the power of being an unrepentant masochist
fsdkfj. listen up Kid For One, he may be “nothing but a pebble”, but I promise you, if you could fucking hear this kid’s thought processes right now, you would already be halfway across the planet. living out the rest of your days in hiding while checking underneath your bed every night to make sure this little hobgoblin isn’t secretly waiting there to pounce at you
FSDLKFJSLDKJFL SDFLKWJEFLKWLF WLKJFLDKS
(ETA: you guys will never believe this but I found a sneak peak of the as-yet-unreleased soundtrack which will accompany this scene in season seven of the anime! SPOILER ALERT!!!)
ACTUAL GHOUL. I AM ACTUALLY SCREAMING. MY SON HAS BECOME GENUINE NIGHTMARE FUEL
THIS IS MY FAVORITE, FAVORITE, FAVORITE THING EVER YOU GUYS. HOLY SHIT. I CAN’T BREATHE OMFG
OUCH. HA! HAHA.
(ETA: once again, I know this sounds highly improbable, but I actually found some 100% authentic footage from the anime version of this scene! I’m telling ya. once this hits the airwaves minds are gonna be blown.)
HE IS THE “WHO” WHEN YOU CALL “WHO’S THERE”!!! HE IS THE WIND BLOWING THROUGH YOUR HAIR
you have to admit though, this really is the exact type of behavior you’d expect from someone who literally just got spat back out from the pits of hell
oh my god hold up what is this sudden tonal whiplash?
you guys I seriously had to sit back and take a deep breath and calm myself down for a moment, because Final Form Katsuki is just So Much. like actually just THE MOST. that I had to physically force myself to slow down and take these next few panels seriously and resist the urge to keep on making jokes about how CLEARLY EVEN HIS PARENTS ARE TERRIFIED. LOOK AT THEM. MASARU IS SOBBING AND MITSUKI’S HAND IS TREMBLING. IN THE WORLD’S MOST EPIC TWIST, AFO GOES DOWN ONLY TO BE REPLACED BY KACCHAN HIMSELF AS THE FINAL VILLAIN!!!
but yeah I had to stop and calm down from all of that because, oh. Masaru has his head in his hands. and Mitsuki’s trying to get him to turn around, but her hand really is shaking though. and it just really hit me that the two of them have spent the last... thirty minutes...?? swept up in the highs and lows of almost losing their child, and then getting him back, and then watching him be so strong and so good and SAVING ALL MIGHT and RESTORING EVERYONE’S HOPES AND DREAMS. and they must be so incredibly proud, but at the same time he’s still caught up in this fight, and the fight is still not over, and they know the tide could still turn again at any moment. and I can’t even imagine what that must be like. especially with them having already watched their son die once today
oh my god Horikoshi you cannot freaking do this to me!
goddammit. and now I’m all caught up in my Bakufam feels. DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI, THE MITSUKI TEARS WERE THE LOWEST OF BLOWS
and now Kid For One is once again whining about this “pebble” who’s pissing him off even worse than All Might. you love to see it!
OH MY GOD?!?!
oh my lord?! is it finally happening?? ARE WE FINALLY GETTING THAT SWEET, SWEET CONTEXT AT LONG LAST? WILL A MAN FINALLY HAVE A NAME??
-- Horikoshi I swear to god
YEAH NO SHIT. NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT, THEY DO KIND OF BEAR A RESEMBLANCE. YOU KNOW, IF YOU SQUINT
okay, color me intrigued. so that is indeed why AFO was crying when we previously saw this flashback! this is actually so interesting to me, because it’s literally the one and only time he’s ever shown real emotion outside of generic battle-related stuff (anger, shock, surprise, etc.)
so he says Kacchan pisses him off because he looks like Two. and every time he gets reminded of Two, he remembers how his brother died. and, I guess, made him feel sad for the first and probably last time ever???
holy shit, Kacchan was right
he really is AFO’s Final Boss. like even more than he realized
*~*~*OH MY GOD*~*~*
HOLY SHIT YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!
OFA DOS PARTIAL NAME REVEAL AT LONG LAST!! FULL NAME REVEAL AND ADDITIONAL FLASHBACKS TO FOLLOW NEXT WEEK...?? YES? MAYBE? PLEASE????
I swear to god, if Horikoshi deliberately kept Two’s quirk and name Top Secret for YEARS only for them BOTH to wind up NOT ACTUALLY BEING REMOTELY SPOILERY OR WORTH ANY KIND OF SUSPENSEFUL BUILD-UP IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER, I will. just sit here and be puzzled, I guess. lol. “sometimes I just like to fuck with people like that.” OKAY?? WELL GOOD JOB, THEN??
“Kacchan of the Bakugous” was so out of left field and I am grinning so, so hard right now. BAKUGOU NO KACCHAN. that’s officially the second Heroes Rising reference in as many chapters! sure feels like A Certain Mangaka is building up to a Certain Reveal about SOMEBODY maybe possibly still having SOMETHING which will remain unnamed for now, but which rhymes with “done for mall”! and that’s all I’m gonna say about that
except that it’s not, because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also have fifteen other entirely different emotions about him proudly introducing himself to AFO not as Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, but as someone even more powerful. “BEHOLD, it is none other than I... Kacchan!!! ( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و lolo get fucked you big dumb fart”
heh. but seriously. just me sitting here basking in the fact that he uses the name Deku gave him. the fact that he decides not to go with his formidable, much-agonized-over hero name in this one moment, but instead chooses to use a far more terrifying moniker, even if AFO doesn’t realize the significance. because Dynamight is a hero, yes. one of the very greatest and strongest!
but Kacchan? Kacchan is the boy with a dream. Kacchan is the boisterous child laughing at the danger, unafraid of the challenge. smiling in the face of the tallest wall. Deku’s motherfucking Image of Victory. hahahahaha. ouch
anyway so yeah! what a chapter. this may have actually derailed me because now my brain just wants to write a bunch of character metas even though I STILL HAVE THIRTY MORE CHAPTERS TO READ. and not to mention I still have to actually post all of them as well lol. but whatever! we’ll make it work. long live Kacchan of the Bakugous, and may his Secret Menu Hero Name always strike fear in the hearts of his enemies
#bnha 406#bakugou katsuki#all for one#ofa dos#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
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You guys I'm actually crying over chapter 204.5 (which is technically an ad for a certain company we're all boycotting btw) but ignoring the actual ad THE STORYLINE WAS SO??? GOOD???? the Natsu characterization in this was INCREDIBLE (be prepared for intense 100yq hatred) and it portrayed exactly why I fell in love with nalu in the first place....
Summary and analysis below (doesn't incl all the pages btw!!)
We start off with Lucy finding Natsu and Happy at her place, as always.
this is followed by him being like "do you think we'll peek or something" which... 100yq natsu would have... that IMPOSTER...
Anyways while she's taking a bath, Natsu and Happy are browsing around Lucy's room and find a book that stands out. (Btw right next to this book is her diary, 100yq natsu would've gone straight for that). However they end up accidentally destroying it and start panicking. They ask Lucy if they can "borrow it" and Lucy panics at first, saying it's precious and not to touch it, but relents when they say they found it "interesting".
fast forward, we see them worn out after trying and failing to find a replacement copy. ONCE AGAIN, they're doing this because it's something precious to LUCY. Not because they care about reading, or because the book has any value to them, but because they understand it's important to HER. Natsu (and Happy) going the extra mile for things that are important to Lucy is SUCH AN IMPORTANT PART of their entire dynamic.
continuing, Lucy walks into the guild and asks how they're finding the book, they say it's interesting. Lucy gets SUPER EXCITED ABOUT THIS and starts talking non stop ab the book. Happy asks her why this book is so important to her and...
Y I K E S.
So yeah, they ultimately decide that lying isn't it and they should apologize upfront.
this is so beautiful to me, idk like the imagery of them bowing so sincerely is so.... and like wow MASHIMA seems like natsu IS capable of acknowledging his own wrongdoings and offering genuine apologies. I'm not even talking ab the whole post tartaros situation no, I'm talking about fucking 100yq, where natsu actually physically hurts Lucy and doesn't apologize for it (AND IN FACT ITS PLAYED FOR A GAG)(IMPOSTER!!! NOT MY NATSU!!!)
Soooo Lucy doesn't take it well and runs away.
the fact that they didn't stop their search here. the fact that they EXPANDED it to other towns to try and find her the book THIS IS JUST <3333
Anyways, Lucy returns and reveals dozens of copies of the book...
My heart actually broke for her here because as someone who ig creates stuff as well, it really can be painful to have no audience interaction. And to have a book you wrote bomb like that...ouch... and of course she would've been excited, her best friends told her they found it interesting!!! my HEART. OUCH. and the sheer guilt on Natsu and Happy's faces here 😭 Once again, 100yq would've played this off for a gag...
And they all start bawling (and the ad comes in so I will stop there) but YEAH. THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL??? The way she's regretful too, the way they're still trying to apologize and make her feel better I'm :(. This is what makes nalu work and it feels like mashima is forgetting that ab his own work... they're both genuinely good and kind to each other... like not to get sidetracked but there has always been goofy fanservice moments but there were also so many wonderful, emotional, complex scenes with them with depth and maturity and I just feel like that's lacking now. So reading this was like getting punched in the face srsly because wow... THIS is the natsu I know and love ugh .....
#fairy tail#natsu dragneel#natsu#lucy heartfilia#nalu#natsu appreciation#pro nalu#lucy heartfilia appreciation#seriously i got so emotional over this#100yq rant#anti 100yq
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Why change matters and how Amphibia did it better than The Owl House.
"Watching and Dreaming" made me cry a lot during its premiere. I was amazed and, I'd say, dazed by it. Then I forgot about it for a while. Now I finished re-watching Amphibia for the first time since TOH ended. My hype died down, and I have some thoughts. A lot, actually.
Amphibia's ending was incredibly painful and made me sob like a baby for two whole weeks the first time I watched it. That's because it was not only beautiful and heartbreaking, but truly GOOD. Brilliant, actually. I absolutely agree with a statement that any other ending would literally be a contradiction to the whole main plot, especially Anne's arc. The girls had to learn to let go in order to grow as individuals - the thing they had the biggest problem with. Saying goodbye was the only logical option, plot-wise. It still hurt like hell, though. Separating the multidimensional, against-all-odds relationships (especially my beloved spranne. Ouch, ouch, ouch). The Owl House does no such thing - everybody stays together. They live happily ever after.
Paradoxically, I think that it's the main reason why I'd choose "The Hardest Thing" over "Watching and Dreaming" every single time. I know we shouldn't really compare them in EVERY aspect, since TOH had way more things to deal with in the final episode, but the fact that Luz got to not only stay, but to freely travel between worlds as she pleases really took the whole "growing up and finding your true self no matter what the other people do/say about you" thing out the door. Luz from season one, episode one, and Luz from the finale are not really that different. Well, she certainly became more traumatised and depressed than before, but in terms of personal growth? Nope. Luz - from the very beginning - was cheerful, open, caring and very selfless, willing to literally help every stranger she met no matter how it would affect her. She had little to no boundaries, but, well, you can't argue that she was A GOOD, SELFLESS PERSON. Now, we could say that her arc here would be learning that sometimes you should put yourself before others, that you can't save everyone, that you can't trust every person you meet. And she learns it! She fucking does! She helps Philip not knowing who he will become, and then suffers from the consequences, because she helped the wrong person. And then it's all erased, when she saves Collector's life and meets Papa Titan (or whatever we call them).
I have so much to say about this. All of TOH's "villains" (Amity, Lilith, Hunter, The Collector) that were given a redemption arc literally get turned into lifeless, edgy trauma dumpsters, that suddenly loose all of their previous character, quirks and sass (well, maybe except for Lilith, she just started to express them differently, I think, but still, it was WAY too big of a change). I won't dwell on it (since many, many fans called it out already - as they should), and will focus on something different. The only one marked as irredeemable is Belos. Good. Okay. He's irredeemable, because he's a white, christian puritan who won't listen to anyone but himself. Also a genocidal maniac. That's the lesson for Luz here. "You can't save everyone. Some people are just straight up evil". And it's very, very true. But.
From all of the "villains" I mentioned before, Belos is the one that had the most reasons to, let's say, take a dark turn. Those reasons are what makes him irredeemable - he's just too convinced he's right, because, in his mind, he has evidence to prove it. But how do we learn about this? Maybe by seeing his part of the story? Maybe by learning about his brother and Evelyn, about their relationship? It couldn't be straight up awful, since Philip literally brought his brother back to life over and over again, he wanted his brother, or at least the picture of Caleb that satisfied him the most. There was more to it than only "you betrayed me and now I will hate you forever". Do we get to see any of that? No. Instead we get an all-knowing, all-doing being that literally choose Luz as "the one" for being kind and trusting, that convinces her that Belos is, indeed, a lost cause. Do you see where I'm going with this?
Luz, the person that on the literal episode two was told that there is no such thing as a "chosen one" and that she can't always hop into action to save everybody, because, it's, well, not always possible, DOES EXACTLY THAT in the finale by taking a bullet for The Collector, the, you know, very freshly redeemed and suddenly cute and funky villain, whom Luz trusts immediately. AND SHE IS REWARDED FOR IT BY BEING MADE THE CHOSEN ONE. BY A GOD-LIKE BEING THAT CLAIMS TO BE ALL-KNOWING AND CAN DECIDE WHO IS RIGHT AND WHO IS WRONG, BECAUSE OF PERSONAL (King) REASONS. Just like, you know... Belos? The irredeemable villain? And then Luz lets go of the moral dilemmas that's been keeping her up at night for the past months, makes up her mind, defeats the bad guy, learns nothing, and gets to stay in the Boiling Isles and on Earth. With her beautifully redeemed girlfriend and friends whom she kept secrets from and lied to out of fear of being ostracised (you see the pattern here, right?) for, again, months.
I love Amphibia. I love The Owl House. But Amphibia handles it's "villains", generally wronged characters and the whole change/no change thing way better. Well, maybe besides the Core - they got a bit wasted in my opinion. But still. Sasha. Grime. Marcy. Andrias. Anne herself. They learn and change. And more importantly, they face consequences and come to understand and accept them. There's no "chosen one" here. Anne gets the proposition because she's the first one to use the music box for good in literal millenia. A fact, plain and simple (not an opinion based on personal motivations), that makes sense plot-wise, and adds so, so much to Anne's arc. Because Anne from season one, episode one wouldn't care. The one from the finale cares very damn much. And that's the biggest difference.
Saying goodbye makes the message way stronger. The more I think about it, however, the more I'm starting to be afraid that there's no The Message in The Owl House to begin with. Luz learns very little, yet ends up with everything she ever wanted. There's no power behind it. The "find the right people and choose to trust them, not everyone will be your friend" and "some things are out of your control, some people are just bad" aspect is even weaker, as proven by basically the whole season 3. I will end it by my favorite quote from Amphibia, that I think about on daily basis. Have a good day, y'all.
"Change can be difficult, but it's how we grow. It can be the hardest thing to realize you can't hold on to something forever. Sometimes, you have to let it go; but, of the things you let go, you'd be surprised what makes its way back to you."
#the owl house#amphibia#watching and dreaming#the hardest thing#luz noceda#philip wittebane#anne boonchuy#sprig plantar#toh critical#kinda?#i love this show too much to fully criticize it but i had to write this#it was cathartic
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Something I think a lot of people forget about Stolas and Blitzø is how much "Ozzies" changes their dynamic.
Before that, they're a patron and a client. Stolas might indulge in some not strictly sexual damsel-in-distress fantasies, and Blitzø might occasionally match Stolas's absurdly horny energy, and there's s few hints at affection here and there, but at the end of the day, Blitzø wants the book and Stolas wants to be the sub in a bdsm relationship, and that's that.
Their "date" at Ozzies turned their entire affair on its head. Stolas is alone and miserable at his huge empty mansion; Octavia is his only emotional outlet, and Stella's whisked her off somewhere.
He has no friends, no family who actually care about him aside from his daughter, and he's not even close to his servants like he was as a child. Stolas is desperate for any positive social interaction. Then Blitzø calls out of nowhere, asking him on a date. Stolas literally chokes on his Lucky Charms he'd so desperate to get to the phone.
Stolas is in full infatuation mode. This is probably his first real date in his entire life. He was forced into an arranged marriage with a cold, hateful woman and became a father against his will when he was around 19 at most. So he shows up dressed like he's about to be crowned Emperor of the Universe and even bows to Blitzø. Again, just like in "Loo Loo Land," he'd completely oblivious to how obviously unenthusiastic, distracted, and borderline uncomfortable Blitzø is.
Blitzø is legitimately taken aback when Stolas starts trying to make conversation and shows interest in his personal life beyond the carnal. This isn't some sort of machiavellian scheme on Stolas's part. He's being completely sincere. But he's ultimately still projecting his fantasies onto Blitzø instead of actually engaging with him, only this time they're romantic instead of sensual.
Shit goes down, and goes down HARD. Not only does Stolas hide his face in shame when Asmodeus publicly exposes their affair, Blitzø gets it rubbed in *his* face that their "arrangement" destroyed Stolas's reputation and family and is even starting to turn his own daughter against him.
Stolas tries to salvage the evening, but it's way too late.
"Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you. You make that very clear all the time. Buf I just can't tonight. I'm sorry."
This is single-handedly one of the best call outs in the entire series, and HOLY SHIT does it hit home. It throws Stolas into a complete tailspin, and he probably came close to drinking himself to death that night. It's what he always does, burying himself headlong into whatever he thinks will bring him temporary happiness until whoever he's dragged along with him practically has to scream in his face.
It's telling that the very first thing he does is scroll through his phone to reassure himself that he and Blitzø have something more, only to see that Blitzø doesn't look happy in any of his photos, and he was deluding himself the whole time. Ouch. A well-deserved ouch, but an ouch nevertheless.
I think this is where Stolas actually starts to develop feelings for Blitzø, or at least realizes he has them.
Before this, their affair was more of a distraction and an outlet for his pent-up sexual frustration. Stolas went from being so emotionally and physically repulsed by his own wife he had to dissociate when Octavia was conceived to jumping right into a hardcore bdsm contract with a near complete stranger. It's incredibly cathartic for him, but not necessarily good for his mental health. It leaves him deeply psychologically dependent on Blitzø but unable to put aside the kinky bedroom stuff for the basic emotional labor and personal growth a serious, long-term relationship needs to function. For now.
Stolas changes after this. Not all at once, but the lesson sank in. It sinks in even further in "Western Energy". We see that Blitzø has been responding to his walls of text with one or two word replies and blows off his rather tepid apologies and attempts to be considerate. He doesn't visit him in the hospital, doesn't text him more than a half-hearted "git bevver swoon :(".
If Stella hadn't called off the hit, his last words would have been: "Blitzø will...[save me]", followed by a knife through the heart.
Stolas treats Blitzø VERY differently in season 2. While he'll still call him "Blitzy" on occasion, it's hard to imagine the Stolas in "Seeing Stars" or "Oops" calling him his "impish little plaything" or pinching his cheek or embarassing him in public. Stolas is trying so hard not to step on Blitzø's boundaries ar this point that it actually seems to annoy Blitzø, who's so convinced that Stolas could never love him that he seems like he'd almost rather things stay as they were. For all his good intentions, Stolas hasn't given Blitzø any reason to trust or forgive him, at least not yet. Bur he's trying, and I think that's important.
In my opinion, whether you have faith in this relationship ultimately depends on if you think people can truly change.
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✩°。Slow Down The Song⋆⸜ 🎧✮
Pairing: Abby Anderson X reader
Content: friendship w Dina content <3, (I love Dina). drinking/drugs, pushy douche man, mutual pining. SMUT! : spitting, spanking, degrading/praise, pictures are taken during, handcuffs(its a belt) head R!receiving, strap on sex r!receiving. LMK if I missed anything <33
A/N : first smut writing lmk how it goes :D kisses..
⋆⭒⋆˚。⋆˚。⋆⋆⭒˚。⋆✧·ﾟ: *⋆⭒˚。⋆⋆⭒˚。⋆⭒˚。⋆⋆✧·ﾟ: *⋆⭒˚。⋆⭒˚。⋆⭒˚。⋆⋆
You always saw abby, walking to classes, on her way to practice, the gym. She was in your liberal arts class. But you never interacted. She always had her headphones in. smug unapproachable face. She had this walk, like she owned every sidewalk she walked on. You always took a second to take in her outfit, pointedly checking her out, not like she'd noticed. when she passed you could smell her expensive cologne, admire her braided hairstyles. Sometimes you smiled and she didn’t even notice, sometimes shed look at you and try to give what looked like a smile, just a polite one.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
“hey chica” a familiar voice singsonged as she let herself in your dorm. you turned your head to find Dina in your door with a large backpack in hand “whatcha doin?” you eyed her suspiciously.. “my chem work..”
she trounced over to you shutting your computer quickly. “well not anymore, we’re going out!!!” she squealed excitedly spinning in a circle and dropping her bag to the ground.
You’d never exactly been a party animal, but with the stress of college it was so nice to get out and have fun.
“fineeee” you’d pretended to concede. rolling your eyes and twirling around with Dina
shed connected to your speaker, poured you both drinks and begun on your makeup.
“any luck with your crush?” she bounced her eyebrows obnoxouisly, referring to abby.
“i haven’t talked to her yet..” you confessed
“Y/N come on! its just Abby Anderson” she rolled her eyes as if abby wasn’t incredibly intimidating
“Dina she’s like six foot tall and has the RBF of a monster.” you pleaded with her
she rolled her eyes at you, finishing your lipstick. “go get dressed sugar”she smacked your ass playfully and said “els and Jesse will be here soon to pregame”
“no cat?” you asked referring to ellies girlfriend.
Dina hissed.. and squinted “ouch, broke up again?” you confirmed. This was like the third time.
Dina laughed starting on her makeup, already in her blue sparkly mini dress.
you walked into your room opening the dresser, hmm a red velvet and lace mini dress or a bedazzled low back halter top and leather skirt? “DINA?? DRESS OR SKIRT?”
“WHAT DRESS?”
“MY RED ONE”
“WHAT TOP WITH THE SKIRT?”
“MY BEDAZZLED ONE”
“OOO DISCO BALL SHIRT!!!” Dina screeched. you laughed and slid into the shirt discarding the idea of a bra, slipping your skirt on and your shoes into some short red pumps you felt perfect, and just in time. ellie called “ladies? we’re here.
“hi guys!” you ran up giving them each a quick hug
Dina said nothing, she was touching up her eyeliner.
once she was finished she ran out giving Jesse a peck and ellie a hug.
You were decently intoxicate by the time you even got to the party, Dina drank like a horse. (this is cannon)
As the party heated up and the lights somehow got dimmer the music blasting, you found yourself drunk. looking for Dina to get you another drink you ran smack into a mans back.
“oops sorry!” you slurred slightly.
he spun around, you didn’t recognize him “thats okay baby” he slurred heavily groping your hips to “stablize you”
You stumbled back and tried to walk past him, he grabbed your hips again. “dance with me bbygirl” he gave you a drunk smile
“does that line ever work?” you narrow your eyes grabbing his wrists and pushing back.
“yes” he winked
“not this time buddy” you snapped, and pushed off of him.
“god you’re a bitch” he grabbed your wrist harshly
before you could even get agressive, a large hand wrapped around your waist and a voice said in you ear “whatcha doin love?” Abby.
The man backed off chuckling, “my bad Anderson. Gotcha self a fiesty one huh?”
she pretended to chuckle. “ha yea, go find lilly i’m sure she’s missing warming your lap” and with that she yanked you away. you made sure to glare at his back on your way away.
whoever that is
suddenly you found yourself face to face with Abby Anderson. that hardend face present “you alright?” she asked her exterior melting as she leaned down to talk over the music in your ear.
“yea yea I had it handled. but thank you anyways.”
she nods looking at you, a new song plays, you love this song.
finally you found your balls. “dance with me.” you demanded more than asked.
she let her eyebrows rise, finally she said “alright”
she grabbed your hips without hesitation and your hands found her shoulders picking up to the pace of the song. As the song picked up you , let yourself daringly grind on her. her hands tightened on your hips “watch it Y/N” she rasped. Her voice sending electric down your spin and her grip lighting your skin on fire. the song crecendoded and you put your head in the crook of her neck kissing a small kiss. “what if I don’t want to?” you whispered “fuck Y/N how drunk are you?” she was still raspy her hands gripping you “drunk enough to take what i want” she hummed at your words, slotting her knee between your thighs, letting you move your hips with her body.
“can i kiss you?” you murmured. “fuck yes” she rasped out again you kissed her raggedly and she gave you the passion back, working on you. Breaking the kiss she dropped her head to your shoulder breathing you in, fighting back her needs, keeping her restraint. She thought she might ruin you right here in that fucking mini skirt.
breathe me in
breathe me out
you danced together locked in the heat of passion for what felt like five minutes but was for more then a few songs, suddenly the asshole who had his grip on you walked past winking at abby and drawing his eyes over you. She grabbed your ass possessively , causing you to jump forward, grinding your clothed cunt on her knee, letting out a moan.
“I need to get you out of here” abby hummed in your ear.
breathe me in
breathe me out
you nodded frantically ”just have to tell Dina”
She nodded and took your hand as you separated.
you found dina jessie and ellie out on the patio smoking a joint.
as if noticing your presence Dina passed it to you without looking up from her conversation. but when Jesse noticed the hickeys on your neck his brows furrowed, making the three of them looking you as you took a long drag off the joint. Passing it to ellie you started “guys i’m gonna um.. go home with someone” Dinas eyebrows shot up, ellie began taking you in, hickeys ,a hiked up skirt and a flushed face. “who?” she asked, ellie was this protective of everyone. you sidestepped to show none other then Abby fucking Anderson standing in the glass sliding door giving you guys some space to talk. “No fucking wayyyy-” Dina was cut off by ellie“is she sober, is she driving you?” ellie asked. you nodded. “okay cya.” Dina slapped your ass AGAIN as you trotted off. it was like her way of highfiving you.
The drive was mostly quiet. abby’s hand on your thigh, light music playing. The car stopped in front of her apartment building. “are you sure you’re okay with this”
“please abby.” you nodded. “if i didn’t see the way you looked at me every damn day I wouldn’t consider this. while you’re drunk.” your face flushed at her embarrassing statement.
the second you got in the door you were pushed against it locked in a heated kiss. kicking your shoes off. Abby all but dragged you to her room, unzipping your skirt “think i don’t see the way you give me fuck me eyes everyday huh? ” she growled in your ear. You whined.
“i have to hold myself back from this every fuckin’ day. lookin at me like that. like a slut who needs to be fucked” she chucked your skirt.
she ripped her own nice t shirt off showing her sports bra, then yours revealing your bare chest
“cant even wear a bra to the fuckin’ party. fuck your tits are perfect”
once soft spoken and quiet abby had flipped a switch. talking to you just the way you wanted, you’d imagined
“yours too” you slipped your hands under her sports bra and she helped you take it off, showing off her perfect tits.
she scooped you up only in your panties and brought your legs around her torso.
she attached her mouth to your perked nipple you let out a strained moan and she gripped your ass harder playing with your nipple with her tongue. switching to the other nd spending time on it. she walked over to the bed tossing you on it like you weighed nothing you gasped at the air being knocked out of your lungs, propping yourself up on your elbows. as she undid her belt setting it on the side table carefully, your eyes followed her hands and she undid her jeans sliding and kicking them off. she smiled at you, powerful body on full display abs flexing.
she lunged kissing you and kissing down your body, kissing over your clothed cunt.
“abby don’t tease. Please?”
“don’t tease? you’ve teased me for months staring at me, wearing cute little dresses, i should’ve been ripping them off of you the minute you got home. I should’ve been holding your hand to classes. ”
she began to lick your cunt through your thin satin panties as you canted your hips, whining.
finally she ripped them off. devouring you like she had been starved “abs.. making me feel so good.”
She looked up, smacking your slit and spitting on it after
you moaned out.
she sucked on your clit and entered a finger into you you moaned out your hole clenching.
“so fuckin tight. fuck.”
quickly she added another finger and you began grinding on her tounge. ‘Abs Abs im gonna!-”
“cum for me baby, cum on this face cmon. tell me who’s makin you feel this good”
her words sent you over the edge, a band in your belly snapping as you released on her face ”thats it thatta girl.” she slurped nastily on your pussy not even giving you a break.
she rose from the bed, your whining from loss of contact. ‘’i know baby” she pretended to pout, opening her drawer and pulling out a shiny box, and out of it she got a large baby pink strap on, maybe eight inches? your mouth watered at the sight of it. “bought this the day i saw you. wearin that lil top i couldn’t stand it.”
she latched it on over her boxers
‘ you whined at the tip sliding between your folds, she leaned up to you “ya alright with this love? she asked” “you nodded frantically kissing her, tasting yourself. she grabbed your face between her forefinger and thumb “open your mouth up” you did.
She was so nasty. she spit in your mouth and squeezed your cheeks to tell you not to close your mouth. she smiled at that sight. “so fuckin’ pretty.” she grabbed her polaroid off the nightstand “keep that mouth open wide baby” She snapped the picture. “oh thats going in my wallet.”
“Swallow” she commanded. and you did.
“fuck abs.. you’re perfect for me.”
“good baby” she chuckled
she used your slick to wet her cock and looked up at you, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bright brusises the next morning. slowly she slid in inch by inch, your eyes drooped as you moaned out whining at the size, all the way to the hilt. she checked on you, obviously enjoying it.
pulled out, and slammed back in. you screamed out at the feeling “A-Abby!”
“gunna fuckin’ split you in half”
relentlessly she pounded into you until she found that sweet spot that had your hips bucking. she abused it until your eyes started watering. using your hands you started to run away.
“ahh ahh ahh” she tsked.
flipping you over she grabbed the belt from her nightstand and skillfully used it to restrain your hands behind your back. your chest flush into her silk sheets.
she slammed into you at the hilt feeling your cervix. “gunna fuckin mold this pussy to my cock. you’re only gonna be mine.”
“Mhm i’m yours abs” you cried out
she went harder chasing her own orgasm as the hild of her cock bumped against her clit.
she smacked your ass causing you to jump forward and back, making her stroke that much deeper. “ass is perfect, this pussy’s fuckin’ perfect.” she growled out at you spitting down to where you connected. “abs- ABBY fuck. fuck. fuck.” you cried out
“yea baby tell the neighbors who owns you”
“Who owns this pussy?” she smacked your ass again and then she reached down messing with your clit
“ah! you abby. Abby does!”
‘m’ gonna cum abby.”
yea baby? go ahead cum for me she spat out.
she put her thumb on your asshole pressing just enough to feel how tight it was. spitting on it.
you feel your orgasm take over your body in waves, sending shock waves.
but she wasnt done
she kept going, no pace change. “m’ not fuckin’ done Y/N, gotta - fuckin’- make- you- mine-”
she slammed into you on each word making her point
you cried out, overstimulated, the orgasm you just had began to feel like a band that was going to snap again “abby pleas- is-its too much abby-”
“fuckin’ take it baby. fuckin’ take it like a good slut”
with your hands tied behind your back you had no choice to take it.
“Abs i’m gonna cum again. abs-”
“gunna fuckin’ cum too”
her strokes got sloppy, and she repeatedly smacked your ass alternating cheeks.
“Cum with me cmon fuckin’ cum with me, pretty”
“abs- ” the band snapped in your stomach, squirt covering both of your thighs.
“fuck Y/N, look so pretty doin it, fuck such a fuckin- good- girl-”
she accentuated her words with he lasts strokes her orgasm ripping out of her.. she rode it out in your whining, shiny wet cunt.
she un-lachted your arms and slid out of you.
giving you a kiss on the forehead
“did s’good for me baby, stay right here i’ll take care of you.”
she walked around the room putting the strap away you admired her strong back as she cleaned up, she took a warm wet rag to your puffy fucked out cunt cleaning you up and sliding a pair of her boxers on you, and her shirt over your head. she got dressed too and cralwed into bed with you, cuddling you into her arms.
#abby anderson x you#abby anderson x reader#abby#ellie tlou#ellie#ellie williams#abby brainrot era#abby the last of us#abby tlou
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Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader
Series Masterlist | Previous episode
Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader
Word Count: 6 K
Warnings: none
Prompt: What will happen when you face a boggart on DADA? On top of that, it's finally the long awaited day, the quidditch trials, will you make it into the team?
This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.
Chapter 7: "Peaceful Easy Feeling"
A week had flown by while at Hogwarts. You were becoming closer and closer to your Gryffindor classmates, and you couldn’t be happier. This morning James reminded you like four times that the quidditch trials would be later that day. He’d given you a list of the things you’d need and made sure you were aware of the fact that he wouldn’t be the only person to choose who made it to the team, so you had to fly as gracefully as you always did, and better.
“You sure you’ve got everything ready?” He asked, yet another time as you walked towards the Great Hall after divination.
“Yes James,” you replied exasperated “I’ve got my broom, and my goggles, and the cape you gave me, and Remus’ sweater from the other day –because he said it would be cold–, and Sirius’ goddamned lucky hair tie too.”
“Excellent, At what time will I see you?”
“4 pm,” he was about to say another thing “Seriously Potter, one more quidditch-related question and I won’t even show up,” you warned.
He nodded “I was actually gonna ask you If I could copy your DADA homework?” He said with a guilty smile “I totally forgot with all the quidditch stuff and Moony is pissed at me because he reminded me of it every night but I forgot anyway.”
You rolled your eyes but took out your parchment and handed it over. “You better change it a bit so Nightshade doesn’t find out, remember she’s really good at spotting stuff.” He nodded profusely.
Your DADA teacher was very strict, absolutely charming, and elegant, but strict nonetheless. Last time she discovered someone had been copying someone else’s homework –Tom copying Beth’s– she took 10 points from each of them and gave them detention until they did the entire thing again. Thankfully Lily had been very participative in that class and the points she won almost balanced out the ones they’d lost.
From your table, Remus was the first one to spot the two of you. He was sitting besides Sirius, and he waved as soon as he saw you, you smiled, and went to take a seat.
“Where’s my hair tie?” Sirius asked as soon as he saw you.
“Nice to see you too Sirius,” You said as you raised your arm and pulled the sleeve of Remus’ sweater back, waving your hand in the air to make its position obvious.
“No, no, no. You need to have it on your hair for it to work,” He said, you raised your eyebrows at him. “Here, I can do it for you.” He grabbed your hand, pulling his hair tie from your wrist and placing it on his, standing up behind you. He then started toying with your hair, brushing it back with his fingers.
“What the hell is that wanker doing to your hair love?” Beth said, pointing at Sirius as she took a seat in front of you.
“Infusing luck into my hairstyle or something,” you shrugged and leaned in to grab a slice of pie from the table, but you were abruptly pulled back by Sirius' hand in your hair “Ouch!” you exclaimed, furrowing your brow in discomfort. You tried to turn your head towards Sirius to glare at him but he firmly grasped your head with both hands and guided it back to face forward “Sirius, stop pulling on my hair!”
“Why? Don’t you like it?” He teased in a flirty tone, fucking Sirius Black.
“Oh course not, goddamnit!”
“Well then! Stop moving until I’m done, Would ya?”
You took a deep breath and attempted to nod, causing your hair to be pulled yet again, you winced. Deciding it was best to remain still, you shifted your gaze toward Beth, who offered you a sympathetic smile. When you finally stopped moving you used your wand to skillfully levitate the food towards your plate and gave a satisfying bite to a piece of fudge. Meanwhile, Sirius gently tugged at the left side of your head, and surprisingly, you found yourself relishing the sensation of his fingers playfully caressing your scalp.
“Hey Potter,” You heard someone shout from the entrance, “See if you can catch this!” the person said before launching a quaffle towards your friend, who swiftly dodged the ball, leaving you in its way instead. You turned your head, feeling another pull from Sirius’ hands on your head but managed to kinda catch the ball as it hit you sharp on the stomach, pushing you back into Remus’ chest, who’d turned to hold you from falling further.
It took you half a minute to get your breath back, and then you turned to the place the ball had come from, Sirius and James were angrily walking towards the person that threw the ball, it was the unhinged boy you saw sitting next to Regulus on the train.
“What the hell Crouch?” Sirius seethed, “You could’ve hurt someone!”
“Hey Volkov,” You heard James shout to a tall boy in Slytherin robes “Keep your dog on a leash, would you?”
Barty just laughed in response “You cowards, you dodged the ball!” He said in between maniacal chuckles.
Feeling a mix of frustration and exhaustion from the hit, You let your head fall on Remus’ shoulder -who was still holding you– and took a deep breath to compose yourself. Finally deciding to intervene, you stood up and strode towards the confrontation. As you glared at the Slytherin boy who had thrown the ball, his laughter started to cease, being replaced by an uncomfortable expression. In hindsight, it might have been a reckless move, you could’ve easily gotten caught for it, but there were no teachers around at that particular moment.
“What the fuck?!” He said after the ball fell on the floor, thick red liquid dripping from his nose “You b*tch!” He roared before he launched himself towards you, being stopped by the towering Volkov boy and Regulus, who’d just arrived at the scene.
“Oops, I guess I threw it the wrong way,” you taunted sarcastically. “Maybe if you were as good at dogging as my boy Potter here,” you said pointing at James “you wouldn’t have ended up in that pathetic situation.” With a dismissive flick of your hair, you turned on your heel and walked back to your table, Sirius’ made ponytail swaying behind you.
Volkov and Regulus practically dragged Crouch out of the Great Hall before James and Sirius finally returned to their seats beside you. You looked at your food with a frown, the hit of the quaffle right in your stomach had taken your appetite away, so you just grabbed your goblet and drank some of the apple juice you’d served yourself earlier.
“You alright?” Remus asked, concerned.
You nodded, Sirius walked back, looking guilty, and sat down beside you “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?” you frowned, confused.
“I could’ve tried to stop the ball, and all I did was yank your head for you to see it.”
“Aww… Sirius is worried about me,” you teased, trying to lighten up the mood “I’m good tho, you do remember I’m a quidditch girl, right? I’m used to getting hit by quaffles.” Sirius shook his head with a little smile forming, “Besides, it was Potter who left me in the line of action,” you emphasised "Potter" so that he would hear you. He turned to you mortified.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he turned to you frantically “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t calculate you were behind me, I’m a seeker, dodging is almost all I do.”
You looked at him with a frown and then laughed, letting your head fall back. James looked completely distraught. “It’s fine James, I was only teasing you.”
Lily gave James a look of disdain “But you should’ve caught it,” she said before pulling a list from her bag “Now, changing the subject, these are going to be the extra-curriculars for this year.” She placed the list in the centre of the table.
You leaned in to take a look, “Apparition?” You asked, “On 6th?”
Beth nodded “I’ve been waiting for this course since 1st, they say Dumbledore is the teacher sometimes.”
“I’m up for that one,” you said, and Lily wrote your name next to apparition.
“You can still choose something else since apparition is only a 12-week course.”
“Uh… Magical Theory?” You asked, looking through the list.
“It’s for creating spells,” said James.
“We’ve been taking it since 3rd,” Remus chimed.
“You’d probably like it,” concluded Sirius.
“I’ll take that one too, then.” You told Lily, who wrote your name on it, “Though Ghoul studies sounds good too.”
“Oh, well, the times clash, but if you want you can come to the Tuesday class with me?” She offered with a smile. You nodded, and then she continued asking the rest of your classmates about their selection for the year.
Once she was done, everyone stood up and you all walked together to your Defence Against the Dark Arts Class. The teacher had moved all the chairs and tables to the back of the room, leaving a large empty space in the middle of the room.
Professor Nightshade was leaning on her desk, looking as graceful as ever, with a little smirk as everyone walked in. “Today, we will be learning how to deal with Boggarts.” The atmosphere in the room quickly became tense. “Mr. Pettigrew, please step forward.”
Peter gulped and walked towards Seraphina, who whispered something in his ear. He nodded, still with a worried look and the professor walked towards a large chest she’d placed at the front, opening it. Some mist came out and it started to transform into a giant rat trap.
You heard Sirius burst out into a laugh from behind you, James jabbed him with his elbow and gave him a warning look. Sirius nodded, giving James an apologetic look.
“Riddikulus!” Said Peter from the front, and the cheese on the trap started growing and growing until it ripped through the cage and caused it to break down. Everyone laughed, causing the boggart to sink back into his chest.
“Excellent work Mr. Pettigrew!” She said and called Beth to the front. When the boggart came out it turned into a huge piece of magical chess, a knight with a giant sword, lunging at her.
She looked to the side, placing her hand over her hand in instinct, “Riddikulus!” She half screamed, the sword became an air balloon and the horse had turned into a cute Merry Go Round one instead. Everyone laughed at it.
Seraphina urged everyone to make a line, and soon enough everyone was facing their own boggart. Sirius dressed his mother in a childish way, with ponytails and everything, Remus made the moon blow up into hundreds of sparkly confetti. Lily turned a Death Eater into a clown. And then it was your turn.
Lily gave you a thumbs up as you walked closer to your teacher, “What do you expect to see?” She asked you calmly.
“I… I don’t know, not sure how a boggart would represent loneliness,” you said, trying to add a bit of humour to the situation. She nodded and walked towards the chest, asking with a rise of her eyebrows if you were ready, you nodded. Soon the dark mist turned into the creature from your nightmares. You stared at it in shock, it looked as imposing and dangerous as it did in your dreams, and then it growled.
From the back of the room, Remus gave a worried look to his friends. “How can she–“ started Sirius.
“–be scared of Moony?” finished James with a frown.
“We haven’t even had a full moon since she got to the castle. There’s no way she’s seen him.” Whispered Peter.
You took a while to react, Seraphina was about to intervene but you raised your wand and whispered “Riddikulus!”. As you steadied your breaths the giant creature started becoming smaller, turning into a small little chihuahua dog, causing the entire class to burst into a laugh.
Tom walked from the side and placed an arm over your shoulder, still laughing “That was brilliant (Y/L/N). Didn’t expect you to be scared of werewolves, tho.”
You turned your head back to the place where the boggart had stood earlier “That- That was a werewolf?”
Tom nodded “We saw them last year on DADA, it's a short chapter, but that’s exactly what they look like.”
You frowned, trying to acknowledge the information. You took a deep breath and went to take a seat, Lily walked towards you then, “You ok?” She asked. She already knew about Remus’ condition and wanted to ask if he was alright too, but he was already having a hushed talk with the boys.
“That was it.” You said, “It’s the creature from my nightmares!”
Lily stayed next to you, rubbing circles on your back, taking quick glances at Remus every couple of minutes. So far, Remus and you had hit it off well, in fact, you’d gotten closer to the boys in a week than most people had in the 5 years they’d been together.
Meanwhile, Remus’ head was in a whirlwind. While James, Peter and Sirius discussed how it was possible that your boggart had been Moony he couldn’t stop himself from going down a self-destructing hole. His new friend was scared of him because he was nothing more than the scary monster Witches told their children about at night. He was the boogie man of the wizarding world.
When the class was over, Remus excused himself and went straight into the common room, you’d had enough time to relax along with Lily and decided to approach the boys, pulling out your quidditch gear from your backpack. You frowned when you noticed someone was missing “Where did Remus go? I thought he was going to come see the try-outs.”
“He said he was feeling a bit shaken,” said Peter and started walking, being quick to change the topic “You feeling ready?”
“I was born ready,” you answered cockily, tightening the ponytail Sirius had made for you earlier. As if cue he walked closer to you and grabbed a stray hair from the braid he’d done on the side of your head and set it back in its place. You were still getting used to Sirius’ touchiness, so you cleared your throat “James, you took my broom to the pitch earlier, right?” you asked, he nodded in response.
As you arrived at the imposing field, you saw a long table placed close to the bleachers, Potter and Sirius walked towards the table taking a seat next to Marlene, and a tall curly-haired boy who you identified as the Gryffindor Head Boy.
“Gather 'round everyone!” Shouted Marlene, all the kids that aspired made a line in front of the table.
Both older and younger kids stood next to you, all looked eager to show off their flying skills to the Gryffindor team.
James stood up, and everyone became quiet, he smiled “All right lads, first we’re testing speed.” He said with a smile “Grab your brooms, and do three laps around the castle.”
You nodded, hovering over the air in a line, along with the rest of the students trying out. Marlene and Sirius went up in the air towards key spots before James gave you the sign to go. You took off and went straight towards the first mark line. James and Teddy had charmed golden light hoops in the air that you had to pass through if you wanted your laps to count. As you were flying you saw Sirius marking the speed of the players with a chronometer and Marlene making sure everyone was following the rules. You were the first one to get back to the pitch, followed by a brunette girl with an athletic build.
“(Y/LN), Davis! Excellent job,” said Teddy when he saw the two of you arrive.
The rest of the kids arrived one by one afterwards. James smiled, as Sirius and Teddy talked in the back, writing notes on the parchments. “Excellent job everyone, now it’s time for the next exercise. You will be playing a tag game.” He said as Teddy came forward and handed each of you a handkerchief. “The game is simple, you will place the handkerchief on your belt. And the rest of the players will try to take it from you. If you lose your handkerchief, you’re out. You will be evaluated on how much you last, and how many handkerchieves you get in the end. The court is the limit, like in a quidditch game. If you fly off limits, you’re out of the game. Any questions?”
A smaller boy raised his hand “What if someone pushes us?”
James nodded “Great question! Same rules as quidditch will apply for this game. Sirius and Marlene will make sure you’re not committing any fouls. Your game starts in 3…2…1… Go!”
You were in the air in an instant. Far higher than everyone else, to get a good view of everyone. You spotted the boy who’d asked the question earlier and you dived straight towards him, passing by him, swiftly taking his handkerchief in your hands before he even noticed he was out, you took a break right before hitting the ground and continued speeding in the lower parts of the court, passing over the table where Teddy and James were sitting, causing some of his parchments to fly around, Sirius laughed when he noticed.
“Show Off!” James shouted at you as he adjusted his glasses and rearranged the parchments with a wave of his wand.
As you flew off, you turned back to give him a small wink and located your next target, a red-haired boy that looked about your age, you assumed he was a seventh year since you hadn’t seen him in your classes. You propelled yourself forward and shot up like an arrow in his direction, dodging the Davis girl as she attempted to claim your handkerchief. You took the redhead’s handkerchief in the blink of an eye and continued flying in circles like a hawk, placing yourself in the highest spot.
You saw Davis turn to you, a smirk on her face as she shot upwards, thinking you hadn’t noticed. But you dived down straight towards her, like a game of chicken. Neither of you broke off the path until you were almost touching each other. Everyone was staring in awe and worry at the two when you turned your whole broom upside down, passing right beneath her and taking her handkerchief. She landed shortly after, still stunned by your manoeuvre, sitting along the Redheaded boy and establishing a chat.
By now, most players had been taken out by the few that were left on the field. A younger-looking boy, who flew gracefully to avoid being taken out. A heavier girl with blonde hair that was looking around trying to find someone to catch and Tim, a boy from your class whom you weren’t particularly close with. You dove for him as the younger boy flew towards the blonde girl. You got Tim’s handkerchief, but the smaller younger boy had been faster to take the girl’s cloth and went straight for you, too fast for you to notice. Taking it seconds after you’d outed Tim. You saw him swiftly pass in front of you and waved with a smile and your handkerchief in his hand, before he flew towards James and the rest of the team, you followed behind him, shaking your head as you admired the boy’s skill.
By the time you got down, everyone was taking their handkerchiefs out. You had taken a total of 4, and tied with Davis, who also had gotten four. The smaller boy, who’d taken yours, had 6 handkerchiefs, counting his own.
“Gale! That was brilliant!” Marlene praised him. He smiled at that, meanwhile Teddy and James were busy talking to each other.
After a couple of minutes James stepped forward “Now we’re testing for keepers’ abilities,” he said motioning towards the hoops, One by one you’ll take turns, Teddy, someone chosen randomly and I will be trying to score, while Mckinnon and Black will be doing their job and trying to throw you off your brooms with the bludgers. It’ll be like a quidditch game, except, you will only have yourself to defend the goals, and maybe a little help from beaters, who will also attempt to throw the bludgers at us… Questions?” No one said anything “Fantastic! (Y/LN), you’ll be scoring with me and Teddy in the first couple of rounds, Davis, you’re defending.”
As you flew into the air you saw James throw the ball towards the left hoop, Davis saw it coming and he blocked it with his broom, you dived for the ball and once you had it you saw a bludger coming in your direction, you flew downwards and threw the ball to Teddy, who scored. You turned towards Sirius, who had batted the bludger towards you with a reproaching expression. “Sorry love,” he mouthed before flying towards the other bludger, shooting it at Davis, who managed to dodge it but left an opening for James, who had the quaffle, to score. By the end of his time, the girl had successfully blocked around 70% of the shots.
Next up, was the redhead boy you’d taken the handkerchief from. You were still playing as a chaser, but Teddy was switched by Davis, so now the two of you were working as a team, and damn did you make a mean team. Davis passed the ball when she saw an opening and you scored several times, so did she. James was impressed by your coordination, especially after the chicken game you’d played in your brooms in the tag exercise. The redhead stopped around 50% of your shorts.
With the next person they kept the same player set, and Tim managed to stop around 70% of your shots. The more you and Davis played together, the better the two became at guessing each other's shots. You already knew James well enough, so the three of you as chasers made an amazing team. Eventually, James switched with Teddy, and the three of you were almost unstoppable, leaving everyone with a 50% or less block rate. Gale, the boy who’d taken the handkerchief from you, was up, and he was good, he stopped almost 90% of the shots. When it was your turn, James made you switch places with Gale.
He was a great chaser too, probably as good as he was as a keeper. Coordinating fantastically well with Teddy and Davis. As you stood your guard, you saw a bludger coming straight towards you, propelled by Marlene’s skillful shot, you instantly knew Gale would attempt to seize the opportunity and score, just like James had done earlier. So locked your gaze on him and as the bludger closed in on you, you swiftly manoeuvred your broom backwards, gaining the necessary traction to execute a handstand atop the handle, allowing the bludger to whizz through the narrow space between your head and the broom while your suspended legs propelled the quaffle aside, successfully blocking Gale's shot.
The strain on your arms intensified, and gravity tugged at your legs, urging you downward. Acting swiftly, you yanked your broom, executing a seamless 180 until it was once again nestled between your legs. You heard some of the spectators from the bleachers gasp and cheer when they saw your manoeuvre. Shifting your focus back to the chasers, their impressed expressions fueled your determination. Gale, in particular, was so stunned he momentarily froze, until Teddy hurled the quaffle towards him jolting him back into action.
He grabbed the quaffle and attempted to score again, you blocked the shot with the back end of your broom. By the end of your time, you started getting a bit more tired, the sky was getting dark and the cold was kicking in. You started feeling sluggish, your hands were so cold you cursed yourself for not bringing gloves, and they hurt from gripping your broom so tightly.
With all of the factors combined, you became slower, you had been flying for at least 4 hours at this point and you hadn’t flown that much since the past June or something. Eventually, the chasers managed to score like 3 times. One after you got a cramp on your left hand, and tried to shake it off, the other one when Teddy did a sick feint, making you think he would score and shoot the ball to Gale, who scored from the other side. In a real game, that goal would’ve been disqualified since the two of them were in the zone, but today, it counted because it was practice. The last one was because Sirius shot a bludger to your face and you ducked, flying towards the left hoop where Davis had shot the quaffle, but even as you stretched your arm, it didn’t reach on time. You blocked a few more shots made by the three of them and James called the end of your turn, letting everyone come down towards the grass. In the end, you had managed to block about 95% of the shots, according to the redhead boy, who was animatedly talking with Tim.
You were so tired that you decided to lean onto your broom, using it as support as James spoke “All right, if you hear your name, please step forward,” he said before adjusting his glasses and grabbing onto a list “Tim Klum, Lucas Platanis, Anne Davis, Gale Thomas and (Y/N)(Y/LN).” You all took a step forward. “Tim, Lucas, you’re gonna be on reserve, mainly as chasers, but McKinnon and Black will train you as beaters in case any of them can’t make it to the match.”
“Davis,” he said looking at the blonde girl “You’ll be a chaser.” She nodded and jumped excitedly. “And finally, Gale and (Y/N), you’re as good as each other, you were both excellent chasers and keepers, Gale you proved to have more resistance, especially towards the end when (Y/N) looked a lot more tired, but she had a better block to shot ratio than you did on the keeper test, which is why, she’ll get to decide which position she’d like to play.”
You looked at him with your eyes opened wide, and he nodded in reassurance, a soft, ecourging smile accompanying his nod “I- um…” you stammered. “I think I’ll be a keeper?”
James nodded “It’s settled then. You may go rest.”
“Hey (Y/LN),” called Teddy “You’d make a really mean seeker, you know that right?”
You smiled “I was a seeker in my older school,” you told him politely “And I can totally cover for James should he need it, but I’m pretty thrilled with the idea of being the keeper for the team. I like a good challenge.”
“All the keepers from the other teams are boys,” he informed “You will need to perfect your resistance and be extremely careful when we play Slytherin, they won’t hold their shots just because you’re a girl.”
You were taken aback “I sure hope they don’t!” You responded, “It’d be too boring.”
He smiled at that and gave you a pat on the shoulder “I’m excited to have you on our team.”
Once Teddy left you to go talk to Gale, Marlene approached you, with a huge grin on her face “You made it!” She said as she grabbed your shoulders, “And you’re so fast too!” She praised.
“Thanks,” you said with a blush creeping up your cheeks, yeah, you may be able to be cocky on the playing field, but when someone you admire praises you like that, you will get shy, it’s how the world works.
“Oh,” she grabbed onto your arm and linked it with hers “I’ll be so refreshing to have you on the team, although you’ll see Potter can sometimes get a bit in the control maniac mood, especially when we’re close to a game.”
“Don’t talk shit about others behind their back, Marlene!” You hear James shout from the table, as he was packing up the stuff.
“He heard that?” You asked with a frown.
She shook her head “He just knows me well.”
As you continued walking Peter, Lily and Mary joined you, “It was brilliant, that backflip? I’d never seen someone do it in school!” Peter mused as he walked beside you.
“I– thanks!” you mustered.
You frowned as you looked through the field “Remus didn’t make it?” You asked, Peter and Lily exchanged an awkward glance between the two of them “Is he still feeling off?”
Lily was quick to nod “he said it might have been the food.”
You frowned, neither you, nor Remus had eaten that much, and you were pretty sure you’d both had only a couple of bites of the same Shepard pie, so whatever he had, wasn’t because of the food. But you decided to push the thought to the back of your mind. You arrived at the great hall shortly after, with Peter going over the highlights of the tryouts, praising you over and over, and mentioning how excited he was for the first game with the new line-up.
When you arrived he started telling Beth about it, who hadn’t been able to go because she was still in detention with Professor Nightshade. “And then she did this freaking amazing handstand-backflip, dodging the bludger Marlene had shot at her, AND–“ he paused dramatically “blocking the god damned quaffle Gale had shot. It was brilliant Beth, you should’ve seen it.”
“Oi, wormy, stop talking about her like she’s a freaking superhero, it’s gonna get on her head,” said Sirius as he placed his arm over your shoulders “She’s already pretty haughty as it is.”
You turned to him with a fake offended expression “Haughty? But look who’s talking?”
“I’m not haughty!”
“Sirius, you might be the cockiest person I know.”
“Well, then, we’ll make quite a pair,” he said with an air of disdain.
Once sitting at the dinner table you grabbed a couple of desserts and placed them on your plate. James raised his eyebrows as he motioned towards it “Only sweet stuff?”
“I’m knackered,” you complained “I need this, urgently.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Just curious.”
You nodded and gave a bite to your scone. Moaning from how freaking good it was. “The elves outdid themselves today.”
“Or you’re just hungry,” said Sirius, you pulled another scone and shoved it in front of his face, and he gave it a small bite. He moaned too, taking the scone from your hands and eating it by himself.
“You were saying?” He rolled his eyes with a little smile in response, nudging you with his shoulder.
While that exchange was happening Mary leaned down to whisper something at Lily “They’re even feeding each other now!” She said in a half excited tone.
Lily turned to her “Stop it! They’re gonna hear you.”
Once you were done eating, and realised Remus hadn’t made it down for dinner, you grabbed a couple of scones and toast. Since you didn’t know what Remus liked on his toast with, you grabbed all the spreads and put them on different sections of the toast, making a very funny-looking and colourful piece of bread. You placed a piece of bread on top and then put everything on a cloth napkin.
James had gone to talk to Teddy and everyone was still eating, so you excused yourself, “Imma head back now,” you said to Lily, “kinda tired.” She nodded in acknowledgment and waved you goodbye. It took you a couple of minutes to get to the fat lady’s portrait but once there you whispered the passwords and walked into the common room. You spotted Remus sitting in front of the fireplace with a blanket over him, his legs bent and his arms wrapped around them, staring at the fire as if it were the most interesting thing.
“Hey!” You said with a smile “Lily told us you were feeling off.”
He looked up at you, and nodded “How did you do?”
You walked over, sitting almost beside him “I made it to the team,” you smiled “Peter can’t stop talking about it. I think I surprised him with a little trick I did.”
“Congrats!”
“I brought you this,” you said raising your hand with the napkin on top, “they said it might have been your stomach, some sweets could make you feel better.”
He smiled “Thank you,” he said “I was a bit shaken by the boggart, I guess.”
You nodded “I can relate.” He winced but you didn’t notice as you were looking at the fire. “The scones are out of this world,” you said as you handed the napkin over to him. He unwrapped the knot at the top and grabbed one of them, giving it a bite and smiling.
“Mhmmm…”
You smiled “Told ya,” you took a deep breath and let yourself fall on top of the rug. Placing your hands under your head for support. “Sometimes when I’m feeling bad, I like looking at the sky.”
He chuckled, “I’m not such a big fan.”
“You don’t like stargazing?” You asked, frowning and turning your head back to look at him.
“No, I- do like stars,” he corrected “but I sometimes find all the other stuff, a little anxiety-inducing.”
“Only stars then,” you said, smiling as an idea popped in your head. You pulled your wand and started launching bright balls of light to the ceiling, recreating the night sky as best as you remembered.
Eventually, he let himself fall on the rug beside you, “What are you doing?” He asked.
You smiled mischievously and pointed at the candles that surrounded the room “Nox,” you whispered, suddenly the lights at the top of the ceiling were the only visible thing, making it look like a clear night sky “There you go, only stars.”
Remus laughed, “You know, they’ve got a similar thing on the Ravenclaw tower.”
“Do they? Is it as pretty as mine?”
He laughed, “Theirs was cast by Rowena Ravenclaw.”
You chuckled “Well, theirs might be prettier, but this one?” you pointed at the ceiling “this one is ours.” You had replicated the night sky as best as you remembered, but you’d also added several stars that didn’t really exist, one for each one of your friends, and they were the brightest.
“That’s yours,” you said pointing at one of them “That one is Peter’s, next to James’, obviusly. Sirius is on Canis Major,” you said, drawing the lines in between the stars with your wand. “But he’s brighter than the rest,” you said, since you hadn’t added an extra star for him, just made his brighter.
Remus chuckled “He is indeed.” There was a comfortable silence and Remus spoke again “And you?”
“Me? I guess I didn’t make myself one.”
He then grabbed his wand and threw a small but bright light towards the ceiling.
“A comet?” You asked as you realised the trail of light trailing behind the star he’d created.
“I’ve always found them intriguing. They appear suddenly, blazing across the sky,” He said, “kind of like the way you showed up, out of nowhere.”
You laughed “Well, at least they’re pretty, even if fleeting.”
“But you won’t be,” he said pointing at the comet he’s created, “It’ll circle through the rest of the stars you made, forever.”
You took a deep breath, realising how fast you’d been accepted by Hogwarts and your new friends. They had all been so kind, guiding and welcoming. Never leaving you out, even inviting you to clubs and other reunions they had created long ago. You knew the fact that you’d met Sirius before was of great help, but in this moment, you realised, that even without meeting him, Remus, and James and Lily and Marlene and everyone would’ve been just as welcoming. You remembered a line from a book you’d read long ago “Profound connections can be formed in the briefest of encounters.”
It happened with Sirius during your vacation, and now it was happening here in Hogwarts too. And you smiled, looking at the sky you’d created. Moving to England might have been one of the best things to ever happen to you.
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Raead more Marauders Fiction
A/N: My sweet boy Remus deserves the world. Barty is a little deranged, but thet's why we love him, I'm sure he'll hold a grudge for what happened, though. Little sneak peak: next episode is gonna be spicy, so stay tuned <3
#imagine#one shot#oneshot#marauders x reader#poly marauders#marauders era#marauders x you#marauders imagine#the marauders x y/n#moony#padfoot#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#wolfstar#wolfstar x you#wolfstar x reader#wolfstar x y/n#sirius black fluff#sirius oneshot#sirius x y/n#sirius x reader#sirius x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus x reader#remus x you#Remus Lupin#sirius black#remus lupin x reader
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Dog sitting | Sam Hubbard
summary — In which you are initially just the dog sitter for Sam's dog, until it suddenly seems to become something more
paring — sam hubbard x reader
words — 2655
You go through your thoughts again to make sure you really have everything you need while you take a look in your bag.
Your wallet, toiletry bag, charging cable, a change of clothes and a little make-up are there, as are your cell phone and dog biscuits.
Your car keys are in your hand, so you've thought of everything. Before you zipper up the bag, you check the contents one last time to make sure everything is there.
You would only be leaving home for one night, so forgetting something wasn't too dramatic, but better safe than sorry.
"Let's go" you mumble to yourself as you leave your home and pull the door shut behind you.
The sun shines down from the sky and gently tickles your nose with its rays, making you sneeze.
It had been quite cloudy for the last few days, so the sun is high in the sky for the first time in several days, making sure that half the neighborhood is out on the street or in their gardens.
Waving to your neighbors, you walk over to your car, where you stow your bag and then get in and push your sunglasses up your nose before driving off.
The roads were pretty busy in this beautiful weather, so you make the fifteen-minute drive today in twenty-five minutes.
However, a glance at the clock on the dashboard tells you that you're still well on time.
A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you skillfully steer your car up the bright driveway and come to a stop next to the dark SUV.
A few seconds later, you walk up the narrow gravel path to the front door, where you press the doorbell button, followed by a bark and the silhouette of the dark dog appearing in front of the door.
It doesn't take long for the door to open and the dark fluffy dog slips between Sam's legs and comes running towards you.
You quickly take one of the dog biscuits out of your bag and then get down on your knees to greet the fluffy dog.
"Hello Leo, look what I've brought you" you greet him with a smile and hold out the dog biscuit to Sam's dog, which is eaten within a few seconds.
Preparing the cookies had taken up a little of your time, so you smile at the speed with which Leo ate the cookie.
"So, did you like the homemade cookie?" you ask Leo, who snuggles up to you and you start stroking his ear.
In response, Leo licks your face once before sticking his nose in your pocket and looking for more cookies in your bag.
"Leo, out!" Sam admonishes his dog and gently pulls him away from you and your bag by his collar. Sam gives Leo a command to go back into the house and shortly afterwards the furry friend disappears back inside.
"Do I get the same warm welcome?" Sam asks you with a grin as you stand back on your feet.
"I'm afraid I didn't bake any cookies for you. Sorry, Hubbard, but I only have one favorite in your house," you joke as Sam pulls you into his warm arms and you smell his aftershave, which smells much more intense than usual today.
"Ouch, that hits me hard," he replies jokingly as he lets go of you and closes the door behind you after you step inside.
There is already a travel bag and a small rucksack in the hallway.
Sam will be heading out in a few hours with a few colleagues from his The Sam Hubbard Fondation and staying away for a night, so you've taken over the dog-sitting part.
For about a year now, you've been looking after Leo regularly when Sam has away games or other important appointments so that Leo isn't alone.
"Maybe you'll get cookies next time," you reply with a gentle smile and follow Sam over to the kitchen.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asks as he opens the fridge and takes a look inside.
"Do you happen to have any iced tea?" You put your bag down on the counter and then look over at Sam, finding it incredibly difficult not to stare at his muscular back, which is even more visible thanks to the tight-fitting T-shirt.
"Peach iced tea? Sure, I got it specially. As well as a few snacks to make dog-sitting somehow bearable for you" he replies with a grin and then hands you a can of cold iced tea.
"Very generous of you, Hubbard" grinning, you open the can and take a big sip. Only now do you realize how thirsty you actually are.
"Always," he comments with a grin, before also taking a big gulp from his water bottle and then bracing his muscular arms on the counter opposite you.
Just don't stare, y/n , you admonish yourself and direct your gaze to the can in your hand, on which you begin to read the label.
"So..." Sam begins after a few seconds of silence, causing you to lift your gaze and look into his eyes. "Leo was out about half an hour ago, so you don't have to go out again until this evening. He's also just eaten, so you won't have to give him any more until about..."
Before Sam can even begin to continue the sentence, you put your hand on his forearm to make him stop.
"Sam," your voice sounds softly in the room. "You don't have to tell me all that again. I know how to feed Leo, how often he has to go out and what I have to watch out for. This isn't the first time I've looked after him."
"Sorry," Sam mumbles more to himself as he starts to take another sip and you quickly remove your hand from his arm as you realize what you just did.
You and Sam have known each other for a while, because back then Sam was looking for a dog sitter and noticed your ad.
From the first time you met, the chemistry was right not only between you and Leo, but also between you and Sam.
In the beginning, you were only with Sam when you were looking after Leo, but now Sam and you also spent time together from time to time, which Leo was particularly happy about, because the little four-legged friend loved you more than anything.
"When will you be back tomorrow?" you start to turn the conversation to another topic, as you notice that the atmosphere between you is a little tense at the moment due to your brief contact.
"Around three pm. You don't have to stay with Leo that long if you have plans. You're welcome to bring him back here after lunch and give me the key again another time."
"No, it's all good. I've got nothing planned for tomorrow. Besides, I like spending time with Leo." And with you, Sam, you continue your thought quietly.
Because you actually had a little crush on Sam, but who could blame you with the handsome Bengals star?
"Okay, great. I have to get going. If there's anything, just give me a call, okay? " Sam puts his bottle of water back in the fridge before he walks over to Leo's basket and starts to scratch him behind the ears and says goodbye to him.
The way he treats Leo so lovingly makes your tummy tingle and your heart warm.
There is almost nothing more attractive than men who are so sweet with animals.
"I will," you promise him as you follow Sam into the hallway, where he puts on his rucksack and then reaches for his travel bag.
" See you tomorrow, y/n. And don't let the puppy eyes wrap you around their fingers too much. "
Sam pulls you into another hug, whereupon you wrap your arms lightly around him and feel Sam hug you tightly for a few seconds and you can usually feel him burying his nose in your hair.
"I can't promise anything," you say, giggling as you release your embrace again. "Have fun, Sammy. Drive carefully and come back safely."
"I'll write to you when I get there. See you tomorrow." Sam raises his hand in farewell before leaving the house and pulling the door shut behind him.
You stand there for a few seconds, literally staring at the door, until you hear the engine of his car start and the car leaves the driveway shortly afterwards.
"And what are we two pretty ones going to do while your master is away? " you ask Leo as you flop down on the sofa and put your feet up.
Leo literally jumps up from his basket and a few seconds later finds himself lying half on top of you on the sofa.
"I guess that means cuddling, huh?" you ask with a grin and bury your hand in the dog's fluffy fur, which you start to cuddle.
Leo's head lies on your stomach and his dark eyes look up at you sadly.
"You miss Sam already, don't you? " you ask and get a quiet whimper in reply. "Shall I tell you something? I already miss him too. I wish he was here now too."
A soft sigh leaves your lips as you continue to cuddle Leo.
Hopefully Sam will come back soon so you can spend time with him again.
— —
Although Leo missed Sam a lot at first, you quickly managed to distract him from his grief.
After a long scratching session, you played a bit of ball and frisbee together in the garden until it was time for the evening walk and then you both had dinner.
You then fell asleep together watching an episode of Criminal Minds and spent the night on the sofa instead of in Sam's guest room.
Sam didn't really like it when Leo was in bed with you, because his dog had his own rules and wasn't allowed in the guest room. But no matter how often you took Leo out of the guest room, the little four-legged friend would always sit in front of the door howling, so you let him in every time.
But you were spared this by sleeping on the couch.
"Look Leo, we've just finished our lunchtime round and it won't be long before Sam arrives" you stroke Leo gently through his fur before leashing him and making your way back to Sam's house with him.
For the last forty-five minutes, you and Leo have been running through the forest, playing fetch and catch.
Now not only was Leo dirty, but so were you. Your shirt and pants were covered in various splashes of dirt and dog paws, so you had to go straight home and shower as soon as Sam got home.
But it was worth it, because the walk and playing fetch and catch were so much fun for you that your mood had doubled.
And perhaps Sam's arrival also played a part in this.
As Leo and you walk up the driveway, exhausted, you can see Sam's car parked next to yours from a distance.
Confused, you glance at your watch and are shocked to see that it's already half past three.
Damn, you'd actually forgotten the time. Hopefully Sam wouldn't get angry.
You quicken your steps and then enter the hallway with Leo, where you first clean his feet properly and then brush the dirt from his fur before letting him inside the house.
Shortly afterwards, you hear Sam's voice.
"Hello, buddy! Oh yes, I've missed you so much too! Have you had a nice walk and worked off your energy?" as Sam speaks, you keep hearing a soft laugh, which warms your heart again.
Leo is probably giving out his favorite dog kisses again.
As Sam's footsteps approach, you're in the middle of cleaning your shoes somehow. But it would probably be smarter to let the mud dry first so that you can get it off better.
"Oh, wow. I guess I can answer the question myself as to whether that was a successful walk," Sam says with a grin as he begins to look you over.
"It really was," you beam in his direction, wiping some dried mud from your face. "Only I guess I really need a shower and should get home now..."
"You can shower here and put some of my clothes on," Sam babbles almost in a panic, afraid that you might disappear at any second.
"If that's okay?" you ask, almost shyly. The thought of wearing Sam's clothes triggers a tingling sensation in your stomach that you probably won't be able to get rid of any time soon.
"Of course. Go ahead and take a shower. The towels are under the sink, but you know that. I'll put something for you to wear outside the door and make us some tea in the meantime."
Without waiting for your answer, Sam disappears upstairs and leaves you behind.
A good fifteen minutes later you come into the living room, freshly showered and wearing Sam's clothes (which you had been standing in the bathroom for a few minutes smelling with your nose).
Sam is sitting on the sofa and his eyes widen when he spots you in your clothes. A quiet 'wow' leaves his lips, which makes you wonder whether you might have imagined it, as quiet as it was.
Embarrassed, you sit down next to Sam on the sofa and then reach for the cup of tea, from which you carefully take a sip.
"How was your trip?" you ask as you notice that Sam is just staring at you, which makes you feel quite nervous.
Sam begins to tell you happily about his trip and as you listen to his words, you keep sipping your tea.
"And how was it here? Did everything go well?" Sam asks you afterwards.
"Everything was great. Leo was easy to look after as always and we had a lot of fun. Or did Leo?" you ask and look over to the basket where Leo is lying with a chewy bone, which he is chewing on with relish.
"I'm glad." Sam scoots a little closer to you, causing your heart to start beating faster and you nervously turn the cup in your hand back and forth.
"Are you okay?" you ask nervously.
"You still have some dirt on your face" he lets you know, whereupon you start to wipe your face in panic.
"No, wait, I'll help you." Sam stretches out his finger and gently wipes your cheek. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath lightly on your cheek.
Sam's proximity makes you so nervous that a slight shiver runs down your spine and makes you swallow.
"There, gone," he lets you know as he leans back a little, then takes the cup from you and places it on the table.
But instead of Sam leaning back again and widening the distance between you, he narrows it again.
"Sam...what...what are you doing?" you ask nervously as the tips of your noses brush lightly.
"I want to kiss you so much, y/n. I've had this thought since yesterday and I just can't get it out of my head," he begins honestly, brushing your nose again before looking you in the eye.
"Can I kiss you?" he almost breathes against your lips, causing the butterflies in your stomach to wake up and start doing somersaults. But Sam suddenly seems pretty nervous too.
"Yes," you breathe back and Sam bridges the last few centimetres between you until his warm lips are on yours and he kisses you.
You've both been waiting for this moment for so long and now it's finally coming true.
The dog sitting couldn't have ended any more beautifully.
#sam hubbard#sam hubbard x reader#sam hubbard imagine#nfl imagines#nfl fic#nfl#nfl imagine#cincinnati bengals
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Ok so i've got something that yall would probably hate me for. But ive been holding this simmering pot of angst for a while and the first thing i was taught is to share, so suffer with me.
New ROTTMNT AU:
Rather than being the only one out of his brothers to survive in the no-good-very-bad-horrible future, Leo is the only brother who dies.
Okay okay okay.
But i personally like to think that after the krang come out everything goes to shit in the bad timeline everyone goes oh fuck and start teaming up right? Human yokai cryptids mutants– none of that matters as long as you got eachothers back.
And after the initial stumbles the brothers start their active participation in the resistance.
Heres the thing.
Leo is genuinly terrifying at coming up with a plan. Kid went toe to toe with motherfucking Big Mama and came out victorious. Big Mama, as if the most terrifying yokai crime boss Big Mama. Kid came out with a smile. Its safe to say his strategies were incredibly effective and it kinda pissed off a couple of people.
Military dude 1: I can't believe i'm following a plan made by a 16 yo mutanat turtle.
Military dude 2: Your just upset the kid called out all the flaws your plan had in less than 2 seconds flat.
But the one pissed off the most were the krang. This tiny insignificant insect was able to somehow keep the resistance 3 steps ahead. So naturally, they went to take him down first.
It took a while but eventually they managed to isolate Leo. His brothers were fighting up a storm but the krang got too much and so they had to leave. Without Leo.
About a week later which involved a lot of crying and screaming, the krang brodacast a live footage of torturing Leo (my boi) before krangyfying (did i spell that right) him.
And now the krang have leo on their side. Leo, who knows everything there is to know abt the resistance (hes a gossipy bitch but thats only cuz its important to have the intel) so they are in deep shit now.
And he was a zombie for a while guys. Fighting against him always had people dying and his fam having a mental breakdown.
Eventually they take him down, but at what cost. (One of the brothers killed him. cuz angst. And now the question is who is the MOST angst) Also, Leo is the first person to die in the resistance. (Ouch)
Casey rools up and has no fucking clue who Leo is (ouch) or why his mom wanted him to take up the role as Casey's dad (HC: Cass took one look at tge record of Leo's victories against his brothers in the lair games, strategy skills and medical knowledge; and declared that he would be Casey jr.'s father. Leo was incredibly touched)
But for some reason. For soME FUCKING REASON. Kid is so much like Leo its scary. His family is near tears everytime they see him act like that. That one time he made a shitty pun and Donnie started crying.
Well its probably due to the blue imaginary friend he has that he calls Bluey. Yes we're going towards that direction. His everything comes from being influenced by the cool older brother figure he has as an imaginary friend. (Cuz of ✨Mystic Shenanigans✨ Bluey is still stuck here. Mikey is the only one who can also see him. But he cant. Cuz hes depressed)
Also without Mr. A-Ninja's-Greatest-Weapon-Is-Hope I feel like shit gets really depressing in the resistance. Everyones sad. Baby casey is sad to see everyone sad. So he asks Bluey's help and picks up his general style of humor. Angst shenanigans.
And. AND. AND. During the whole peepaws time travel back after the movie montage (I am a aimple woman w/ simple need) these depressed hunks see this tiny version of their blue brother still covered in bandages and not fully healed from the krangvasion, and their immediete reaction? Protecc.
Leo is confused abt a lot of things. The future version of his brothers that got spat out of nowhere. Casey and how that worked w/ their Casey. The blue projection of HIS angsty future self (who is pretty cool btw). PTSD. You know, the works. At this point my guy is just vibing, and honestly? The story picks up a pretty chill pace from there. Its all abt healing now baby.
So thats the rough outline of the au. And it might sound like a fucking add but heres more abt this silly little idea that came from my silly little head. -> You'll (Never) Never Be Alone
#rottmnt future au#rottmnt#rottmnt au#rottmnt future leonardo#rise tmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt 2018#rottmnt leo#rottmnt disaster twins#rottmnt raph#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt donatello#rottmnt leo angst#rottmnt angst#You'll (Never) Be Alone
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was about to read chap 2 of call it even but ao3 decided to self destruct anna how will i go on
that is so tragic that i will just have to post a whole sneak peek of ch 2 for you here!!!!
Adrien loved Ladybug.
He loved the smooth timbre of her voice and the firm set of her eyes, the way her mouth would dig its way deeper into a scowl the more she tried not to laugh at one of the rare jokes he managed to pry beneath her red-and-black spotted armor. He loved the way she spoke of justice with such reverence, of peace with such passion. Adrien loved the idea of Ladybug, at least—the thought that there could be a person who embodied so much of what he cherished, the grace and goodness and compassion of his childhood. He loved what Ladybug stood for. What she pretended to stand for.
Sometimes, Adrien thought that he could have loved Ladybug if he didn’t hate her so much.
There were times, though—like now, her red fist redder with his blood, cold disdain smeared across her face—when Adrien thought that he’d have hated her regardless, this nameless thief who masqueraded around his city as a hero. There were times when Adrien was certain he could never have ended up anywhere but at the other end of her fist, if only so that no one else would have to bear the brunt of her brutality.
“Get up,” his father’s voice hissed into his earpiece. “Don’t just lie there like an invalid. Take her miraculous!”
“Me-ouch,” Adrien wiped some of the blood off his face and grimaced, rising to his feet. “I guess your pledge to protect the citizens of Paris from danger doesn’t extend to animal cruelty.”
Fury lit up across her face, instant and red. Of all her buttons he’d learned to press, none ever worked quite as well as calling her out on the hero facade. And today, now that he was getting a good look at her, she was more agitated than usual, all her movements impatient and sharp.
“Don’t you talk about danger and cruelty,” Ladybug spat, setting her yo-yo spinning in a razor-sharp circle of light. “That misunderstood-tragic-kitty act is as fake as your stupid smile. We all know you could put an end to the danger anytime you felt like it.”
“Then you have misunderstood me, my lady,” He watched the time-worn nickname worm its way beneath her skin, upheaving a vulnerable, messy sort of frustration. Adrien lengthened his baton and lowered his stance. “This can’t end until I have your miraculous.”
Ladybug let out a yell and swung her yo-yo in a blinding arc at his torso. Adrien intercepted it mid-air with his baton, pulling the staff loose from the wire and scampering past her to the other end of the rooftop. He would do almost anything to avoid getting entangled in that thing; it was near indestructible and Ladybug wasn’t usually very keen on treating her captives kindly. His father, also, was not very keen on his cataclysm being used outside of their specific battle strategies. Adrien, in general, was not very keen on making either of these people any more angry at him than they usually were.
“Eat up, my angels!” M. Pigeon yelled up from the sky, riding atop a massive cloud of pigeons. “Taste the delicious cuisine you were always meant to have! No longer will the pigeons of Paris be resigned to breadcrumbs and cat food!”
“Hey!” Adrien yelled indignantly. “Nothing wrong with cat food!”
Ladybug made a sound that could almost be taken as a snort, but when he looked back, her expression had schooled itself back into righteous anger. She lifted an eyebrow, challenging him, but pulled herself into more of a defensive stance. She always liked to take everything in before she made a move.
“It’s okay to laugh, you know,” Adrien grinned wide and assumed a jovial stance, taking stock of the angle of her feet, the aim of her gaze. She was smarter and stronger than him; he’d always known that. But he was quicker with words and knew where to aim them. “It must be an incredible drain on your energy to keep pretending you don’t find me funny.”
“You sure think a lot of yourself for someone who just admitted to eating kibble,” Ladybug scoffed, eyes trailing the flock of birds passing over their heads.
“Don’t knock it until you try it, my lady,” Adrien said. “For a hero, you’re incredibly quick to judge.”
“For a villain, you sure do love stupid small talk.”
“Well,” Adrien mused, “Maybe there’s more to both of us than meets the eye.”
“Doubt it,” Ladybug said lightly, and she spun out her yo-yo, knocking Adrien’s feet out from under him and leaping to the roof of a neighboring building.
Just then, a fleet of pigeons swooped down from the sky and descended onto a nearby outdoor restaurant, littering the rooftop with feathers in their wake. Pulling himself up, Adrien watched with a measure of horrified wonder as the pigeons devoured all the food on the tables in a matter of seconds like a pack of feathered piranhas.
“Are they supposed to be, like, carnivores?” Adrien yelled, the image of a pigeon tearing through a sausage burned into his mind. Ladybug, predictably, didn’t answer.
He vaulted after her, trailing her from rooftop to rooftop as they both dodged the swarms of pigeons terrorizing tourists and stealing every bit of food in sight. Sometimes, the akumas remembered that they were on Adrien’s side and actually tried to help him take Ladybug’s miraculous. But just as often, it seemed, they were more interested in general destruction and chaos, causing as many problems for Adrien as they did for Ladybug. The pigeons, Adrien tended to think, were more of a personal handicap than anything.
“ACHOO!” Adrien sneezed, his still-broken nose sending an unexpected jolt of pain through his system. “Ow,” he groaned.
“Ha!” Ladybug spun around and kicked him in the chest, flinging him several meters back and over the edge of the rooftop. Slamming into the side of the building, Adrien dug his claws into the brick to slow his fall, pulling himself back up. When he finally made it over the ledge, Ladybug had her feet planted firmly and was throwing her yo-yo into the sky.
“Lucky charm!” she yelled.
In a shower of luminescent pink and white light, a polka-dotted Easy-Bake Oven landed primly in Ladybug’s hands. The way the hope sort of died on her face was almost enough to make Adrien burst into laughter, and it was really only years of media training that kept his expression schooled.
“Happy… ninth birthday?” Adrien offered, and the glare that Ladybug shot him honestly made the whole thing worth it.
“Shut up,” Ladybug snarled, and then she turned her gaze back to the battery-powered confectionery oven as if it might start speaking to her. “How the—”
“On your right!” Adrien yelled, and Ladybug glanced in his direction as a swarm of pigeons slammed into her from the left, knocking the lucky charm out of her hands. Adrien quickly scooped it up and vaulted to the next building.
“You menace!” Ladybug growled, swinging behind him in swift pursuit.
“Name-calling!” Adrien tutted over his shoulder. “Not very heroic of you, I have to say.”
“I’ll show you heroic,” Ladybug muttered, and then Adrien felt a sharp tug on his left ankle. He’d only just looked down to see her yo-yo line wrapped around his leg when she sent him flying backward through the air, the toy oven flung from his hands as he braced for impact.
Adrien slammed into the pavement, pain rocketing through his shoulder. His baton clattered down next to him, and he blinked the black away enough to see Ladybug standing up on the roof again, staring at her lucky charm like it was a math problem she was trying to solve.
“I, for one, am loving this game of kitty-in-the-middle we’ve got going,” Adrien called up at her. He extended his baton and vaulted back up to the roof where she stood, ignoring the splintering pain in his muscles. “My turn next?”
Ladybug groaned, shoving the oven under one arm and setting her yo-yo spinning with the other. She swung it out at him and he jumped, almost stumbling when he landed on his throbbing ankle. He could try using his cataclysm to disintegrate the roof and make her lose her balance, but he wasn’t supposed to activate it until she had three minutes or less left on her timer.
“Get it?” Adrien asked, swiping his baton at her legs. Ladybug jumped deftly away. “Because we’re throwing the lucky charm back and forth? Like, monkey-in-the—”
“I get it!” Ladybug snarled, wrapping her yo-yo line around a nearby balcony and tugging, hard. Adrien had only seconds to lift his baton up in a makeshift shield when the bricks all came clattering down on him, along with a few tables and chairs and plates of food.
Suddenly a swarm of pigeons separated from the huge flock in the sky and descended upon them, devouring the sandwiches and chips at alarming speeds. Adrien’s stomach panged with hunger—while the rest of him panged with pain—as he remembered that he hadn’t actually gotten to eat lunch.
“Hm,” Ladybug said decisively, like the feeding pigeons had imparted some sort of divine wisdom upon her. “Yeah, okay.”
She was gone before Adrien could dig himself out of the rubble, swinging away with her magic Easy-Bake in tow and leaving him to deal with her mess.
“What are you doing?” Father yelled into his ear. “Follow her! Don’t let her out of your sight!”
“Of course,” Adrien muttered, unearthing an arm from the mess of rubble and feathers. “Resident bug-catcher, on it.”
Loud-mouthed and brightly colored as she was, Ladybug could disappear when she wanted to. And, though he’d spent the better part of his teenage years committing her habits to memory, Adrien could swear that tracking her never got easier.
Sometimes, when she’d do this—try and shake him off while she figured out her lucky charm—Adrien would spend the whole five minutes looking for her, tearing through the city until a wave of light flooded the world and let him know that he’d lost without even putting up a fight. Those were the times he’d be punished the worst for losing. The punishments had only gotten worse as he’d gotten older; Adrien had a lot more to lose these days.
After the seventh or eighth building or alleyway Adrien had ducked into, he started to feel the familiar tug of dread in his gut, mud in his veins. There couldn’t be that much time left, now—he’d been stupid, and reckless, and now it would all have been for nothing. His father’s silence in his earpiece was deafening, ice-cold and heavy. He was doing it again. And especially now, especially today, he couldn’t—he swallowed down his panic.
On a whim, Adrien landed on the roof of a pavilion near the park, circled with concrete pillars and backed up to the brick wall of a building. He ducked his head in and bit down a gasp when he saw a flash of red inside. She was—she was here.
He waited, breath frozen in his lungs, but the attack didn’t come. Ladybug was murmuring to herself, fussing over what he presumed to be the lucky charm. Ladybug was here. And she hadn’t seen him yet.
“Cataclysm,” Adrien whispered, setting his palm alight with inky destruction. And then he charged.
In one swift motion, Adrien used his baton to knock both the yo-yo and the lucky charm from Ladybug’s hands, sending them clattering across the pavement as he slammed her body into the wall. She growled and pummeled her fists into his face and gut, sending stars of pain shooting through his vision.
Adrien extended his baton and smashed one end into the pavement at their feet and the other diagonally into a concrete pillar of the pavilion. He shoved the length of it as hard as he could acoss Ladybug’s torso, pinning her against the wall. She coughed and spluttered, ripping at the baton and hurling expletives his way.
It wouldn’t hold her for long, but maybe for long enough that he could—
Adrien lunged for the lucky charm—that stupid, polka-dotted Easy Bake oven—and scooped it up with his left hand, hovering his right palm in the air just centimeters above it.
“Careful,” Adrien warned, and Ladybug’s eyes widened.
“You evil, idiotic, worthless waste of breath—”
“Yes, fine.” Adrien waved her off. “I’m not interested in that. I don’t want to fight. I think we should talk.”
“What are you doing?” Father snarled in his ear, and Adrien winced. “End this and take her miraculous!”
Ladybug looked like she agreed; the glare she leveled at him sent ice down his spine.
“Talk,” Ladybug laughed humorlessly, fists still tight around the baton. “Right. You always want to talk.”
“I want to talk,” Adrien agreed, keeping his composure level despite the anxiety in his bloodstream and Father’s voice in his ear. He even threw in a smile for good measure. “Obviously we both know how this”—Adrien gestured to Ladybug and himself, and then to the greater generally-in-shambles city—“goes. And I imagine that it involves many more people than we’d both prefer.”
Ladybug looked at him with some intense combination of anger and bewilderment.
“Are you… trying to apologize right now?” Ladybug asked. “For being a terrorist? The thing you’re currently doing?”
“No,” Adrien said, taking a great deal of effort to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I’m not apologizing. I’m just recognizing that you seem to care about the safety of civilians, and so do I, and so I think we should be able to find some common ground and settle this in some way that doesn’t involve them.”
“The only reason they’re involved at all is because you keep attacking their city!” Ladybug shouted, her voice a lit flame. Her earrings beeped—two out of five. “What are you talking about?”
“Adrien,” Father growled dangerously in his ear, “stop this immediately.”
“Don’t play dumb, Ladybug. We both know you’re smarter than that,” Adrien pressed on. “There’s no one here to fool. If you give back what you stole, this can all end—”
“Adrien, stop!” Father yelled.
“You’re insane!” Ladybug shouted. “I never stole anything, and—and the very last person I’d ever trust to talk things through with is you.”
Adrien’s temper rose hot beneath his skin, his ears flat against his head. A rumbling began to shake the ground beneath their feet.
“And this is what you want instead?” Adrien shouted. “The whole city in danger? Us fighting like this, forever?
“Adrien!” Father seethed.
Something shifted in Ladybug’s gaze, her eyes set with an infuriating self-righteous zeal that dropped a rock in Adrien’s gut.
“I think forever is a gross overestimation,” she said. “In fact, I believe you’re already out of time.”
Ladybug smirked, and a high-pitched ding sounded in Adrien’s arms.
The Easy-Bake Oven exploded with popcorn all over the pavilion, and a torrent of pigeons descended on the microwaved feast, choking the air in beaks and feathers until cracks splintered through the pillars. Ladybug wrenched the baton from the pavement and jousted it into Adrien’s stomach, sending him gasping to the floor, but not before he kicked at her legs and took her down with him.
They tousled for a few seconds before a feather sauntered down through the air to brush right up against Adrien’s nose—he could swear his nose was like a magnet to the godforsaken things or something, seriously—and Adrien, with all his might, could not stop the earth-shattering, full-body sneeze that followed.
The sneeze—understandably—loosened his grip on Ladybug, who—also understandably—used the opportunity to pull her knee up to her chest and kick him in the stomach, sending him flying several meters into a pile of pigeons.
Adrien blinked, Ladybug’s red form hazy in his watery eyes. Why did the allergies have to happen, like, instantly? Why did it always have to be M. Pigeon?
“A ‘bless you’ would’ve been fine,” Adrien remarked, feeling around for his baton with his non-actively-cataclysming hand.
“Hmm. I’m not really in the mood to bless you, I think,” Ladybug said. Adrien blinked again, and she was closer than before, yo-yo spinning triumphantly at her side. “I’m thinking you could bless me instead.”
In a swift motion, she lassoed him by the waist and hurled him through the air, several seconds of freefall before he made contact with something warm and firm. He felt the moment his cataclysm was released and panicked for a second, thinking that he might have accidentally touched a person. But, no, when Adrien opened his eyes, he only found the ashy remnants of M. Ramier’s pigeon-feed bag in his palm. Despite himself, Adrien sighed with relief. Awful as she was, Ladybug was reliable. She’d never manipulated his cataclysm to hurt another person, only to deakumatize people. Though he knew Ladybug wasn’t above hurting innocents, she’d always seemed to care about her public image.
“Chat Noir!” M. Ramier screeched, now that all the black bubbles were gone. “What are you doing here?! Help! Ladybug!”
“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you!” Adrien put his hands up, placating. M. Ramier’s eyes were still wide with fear. “Let’s get you down from here, okay?”
“You’re safe now, M. Ramier,” Ladybug landed firmly on the rooftop, polka-dotted Easy-Bake in tow. She snapped her yo-yo around the black butterfly and gave Adrien a pointed look. “He won’t hurt you anymore. Stray cats know when to scram.”
“I’m harmless as a declawed kitten,” Adrien told M. Ramier, pointedly ignoring Ladybug. “I wish you well.”
read the rest on ao3 (when it comes back up)
#call it even#asks#ch 3 tomorrow!!!!!#(if ao3 permits)#ty ao3 workers u are the strongest people on earth#ml#miraculous ladybug#mlb
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Death To The Mechanisms (The Mechanisms)
Our bodies are still and our blood is cold/The books are closed and our stories told/No happy ever after for a tale so old/Laid in blood when the story is done
"ITS JUST. OUGH. So basically all the members of the band (the mechanisms) are immortal space pirates. AND THIS IS THE SONG ABT HOW THEY ALL FINALLY DIE. And each one of their deaths is painfully tragic and fits their characters so well but OUCH IT HURTS. AND THEY ALL DIE ALONE. THEY DON'T EVEN GET TO DIE TOGETHER THEY DIE ONE BY ONE WITH THE FINAL ONE OF THEM TO DIE (toy soldier) DOING SO BECAUSE ALL ITS FRIENDS ARE DEAD AND IT FEELS LIKE IT HAS NO PURPOSE OR REASON TO KEEP ON PRETENDING TO BE ALIVE ANYMORE SO IT STOPS PRETENDING!!!!! And after they spent so long witnessing tragedies from all around the universe its only fitting that their own deaths will be so tragic!!! And just. Man. I could honestly submit the entire mechs discography but thisll have to do i guess"
I Think I'm Normal (Carter Ace)
I'm so important, I'm fucking gorgeous/Prioritize myself because cause hell I know I'm awesome/My unpredictability should have you cautious/I'm also not American so don't deport me/I think that I'm a threat to my development/I think my life is better when I'm celibate/Immediate attention ain’t the best and I surround myself with stress and I just gotta keep the pressure down
"Sometimes i wanna be so incredibly self-destructive. but i’m normal. i think my brain is kinda fucked. but so what? i just really like this song, man"
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this is very random, but what about the hetalia main eight where their s/o has a dog/cat(ur choice). And the dog/cat is very friendly and loving towards the s/o but not them(it acts cold and sort of just doesnt like them), like how would they react to that?(u dont have to do this if u dont want to its really dumb lmao, either way have a good day)
(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) S/O’s pet dislikes them.
(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N this is a cute request. … .. . ouppy and kitty!!! Sorry this is shorter idk:
Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!
“What, don’t they like me? I didn’t do anything wrong…”
Alfred really cannot tell when animals like or dislike him. To be fair, he’s like that with humans too… but with animals, he just assumes they all love him.
But he’s also not great at being incredibly gentle with them. If you want him to stop riling up your animals you’ve got to just tell him outright.
After that, he’ll just try to bribe them with treats. If he can be bought with food, surely your pet can too. Actually, him and your pet are similar in a lot of ways…
You can literally see how hard it is for him to resist petting them (especially if it’s a dog… he loves dogs so much,) but he’ll wait until they come to him first.
“Alright well… these things can take time I suppose. They’ll like me eventually, right?”
Arthur doesn’t take it personally. He’s had a lot of animals of his own, and they’ve all hated him at the start as well. He’ll just be patient.
But also all the pets he’s had before have been like… sheep or rats so he’s not sure how to handle your more average pets. Hopefully they don’t care if he doesn’t pet them a lot.
He says he doesn’t care that much, but you’ve also caught him sneaking your pet little pieces of dinner (he’s nearly as bad as Alfred!)
In general, he doesn’t care much for most animals, but he absolutely adores yours. The first time they act affectionately towards him, he immediately calls you excitedly.
“Aw, why are you running away? I will just catch you again!”
He’s definitely taking it a little personally. He hasn’t had a lot of pets that weren’t birds so he’s not used to normal animal affection. He definitely needs assurance from you that they’ll love him eventually…
But until then, he’s just gonna force your pet to be around him. Even if they hate it, he’s gonna be super affectionate.
Hopefully they don’t get too pissed off about it. It breaks his heart just a little that they won’t reciprocate. They like you and not him?!
Once they finally do, he nearly bursts into tears. He takes about a million photos and immediately sends all of them to you.
“Aiyah! Fine, then I do not like you either. Even when you’re so cute…”
Yao has lots of pets himself. That love he has for you absolutely extends to your animals. When they don’t love him back, well, he has nothing but time!
A lot of the time, he’ll just sit next to them, trying to get them more comfortable. He would never force them to be affectionate with him, even though he just wants to grab them and squeeze them-
Once they start crawling in his lap on their own volition, he’s cuddling with them all the time! If your pets weren’t spoiled before, they will be now.
“Y/N, can’t you make them like me? It makes me feel bad…”
Ivan is used to rejection, but not rejection from something so adorable! He takes it very personally… he’ll act like he’s not upset but he really is. After all, your pets are important to you, so he’ll have to love them too
He doesn’t know how to make them warm up to him, so he just tries everything at once. This of course… does not work. Which probably only makes him more upset
But once you tell him to just leave them alone, he listens. Soon enough your pet will be crawling all over him, and he’ll be losing his mind about it. Animals have never liked him before, but just like you, your pet is finally an exception.
“Come here little kit- Ouch! Why would you hurt me when I’m trying to love you?!”
Just like he is with you, Feliciano is not familiar with “taking it slow.” As soon as he can, he tries grabbing and playing with your pet. If they resist, he’ll be a little hurt.
He’s much better with cats than he is with dogs. If you have a cat, he’ll try playing with them and laying next to them whenever he can. If you have a dog, he’ll ask to take it on walks just the two of them.
Considering how lovable he is, surely your pet will warm up quickly. And when they do, he couldn’t be more ecstatic.
“Oh no, did I do something wrong? They don’t seem to like me very much…”
Considering how many dogs Ludwig has had, he’s really not used to this. Animals tend to love him on sight, so he’s not sure how to proceed from there.
So, he researches. Soon you’ll see him just hanging out around them, trying to get them more comfortable. Plus, he’ll buy lots of treats he’s sure they’ll like. Anything to get them loving him as quick as possible.
And once they do, that pet is as important to him as it is to you. Even if things were awkward at the start.
“Ah. That’s too bad. Maybe they will warm up to me later.”
Frankly, Kiku does not care that much. He won’t take it personally. He knows that most animals (... and many people) can find him hard to warm up to. But your pet will be seeing him a lot, so it will be fine in the long run.
If he buys your pet anything, it’s not to manipulate them into liking him or anything. He just thinks your pet is super cute and deserves it.
When they do finally come to him, he’s super excited. Even though he doesn’t seem like it. He’ll call you into the room and then just point at your pet like “!!!” After that, that animal is getting all the love and affection he can possibly give.
#not proofred at all#hetalia imagines#hetalia x reader#heta tag#aph america x reader#hws america x reader#alfred tag#aph england x reader#hws england x reader#arthur tag#aph france x reader#hws france x reader#francis tag#aph china x reader#hws china x reader#yao tag#aph russia x reader#hws russia x reader#ivan tag <3#aph italy x reader#hws italy x reader#feliciano tag#aph germany x reader#hws germany x reader#ludwig tag#aph japan x reader#hws japan x reader#kiku tag
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