#when were laptops. invented

[gunkbaby]

So ik general consensus is that tg takes place in 2011/2014 type era but actually. (Making my 2000s au valid)

If we take the year of the final chapter timeskip to be the year tg ended (2018) then that would place tg as taking place in 2007/8 and tg re in 2010/11. Which does kinda make sense i think. Like a few people said they had technology and like. Yeah. But aside from ccg stuff i feel like it wasn’t that present. Like iirc i was so shocked when i saw Kanae using a PHONE in re. Straight up flabbergasted. Also pretty sure Shuu’s home computer looks fairly old? Like it’s no MacBook Pro. Idk.

#this idea means shuu would’ve been 13 in y2k #oh my god #matsumae did not rest that night i fear #‘matsumae…why are u still using electricity don’t u know the machines are going to turn on us at 00am exactly??? #bro was ready for the dark ages #eto had a computer too tho #when were laptops. invented #tg gunk #gunk

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

#millennials #technology #personal #generations #generational change

[natalievoncatte]

It began with a sneeze.

Lena’s entire body tensed, pain wracking her sinuses, and she tried to tamp it down and swallow it. There was a room full of investors, and she paused mid-presentation. She held up a protesting hand, signaling that she needed no help, and waved off her assistants. Finally the feeling subsided and she soldiered on, accidentally repeating part of the presentation. It didn’t matter, it was just a formality.

After, she was sitting alone in her office and she did sneeze this time, hard, into a silk handkerchief. A dull ache had settled into her bones and she felt droopy, tired. Still, she had work to do. Not the work she wanted to do. Not running the company, not strategizing. Not inventing or innovating. It was menial. It was assigned. She worked for her brother.

It was his pretty revenge, because Lena shot him two times in the chest. Then a bunch of very strange shit happened and Lena suddenly found herself in an entirely different world where Lex had never died, even though they both remembered it. A hellish nightmare world where Lillian was a philanthropist and Kara and all her friends worked more or less for Lex, keeping aliens in check.

Lena couldn’t go to her best friend for help, because her best friend had betrayed her. Lena almost wished she’d been erased when the multiverse collapsed, replaced by a copy of herself who’d never felt this agony.

There was a truth she would never admit, even to herself.

She’d feel better if Kara was here.

The days dragged on and so did her cold. Except, it wasn’t a cold. On the third day she woke to a high fever, feeling a little wobbly when she forced herself out of bed. Her sinuses burned and she had to breathe through her mouth. When she took her temperature, it was elevated, close to being dangerous. Every muscle and joint on her body ached and the sight of food made her retch involuntarily.

Lena had the goddamn flu.

She did something she’d never done: by a curt email, she informed her staff that she was ill and would not be in the office today. Instead, she rummaged through her closet, her breath catching on a familiar sweatshirt.

It was a Midvale High School Mathletes sweater. It was Kara’s, but Lena knew with a certainty that Kara had not been in Lena’s penthouse since It Happened. There was no way for this to get here but…

She stifled a sob. This world had its own Lena, one whose life she’d appropriated or merged with or God knows what, and that Lena Kara’s clothes in her home. Lena kept stumbling across them and it hurt more every time.

Had they been happy, before? Kara must have spent the night. They must have been close. Lena had been close with her Kara; they hung out and Kara had slept over a few times but they weren’t really on your-clothes-in-my-closet terms. Had that been what happened here? Did they share the bed? Were they…

Did they…

Lena put it on, felt it shelter her body. She put in two pairs of leggings and hoped her laptop would warm her. She curled with it on the couch, and got exactly nothing done. After three hours she closed the computer and flipped channels until she found the old friend of the seriously ill and the chronically unemployed: reruns.

Curling on one end of the couch, she laid her head to rest on the arm and her eyes slid closed.

It seemed that as soon as she did, she opened them again. Her head was throbbing. She tried to push herself up, but it was too great an effort and she flopped down again. Her throat was dry and sticky, and unable to breathe through her nose, air came in reedy wheezes. Swallowing only made it worse, and she felt a rising panic.

Something beyond sleep, thick and heavy, was dragging her down, even as she struggled.

A chill night breeze rolled over her, and she shivered explosively.

"Easy now. I've got you."

Powerful arms lifted her limp body and carried her. Gently, Lena was laid on her bed and a blanket thrown over her.

She opened her eyes. Kara sat her up, cradling her in one arm as she held a glass in another, so Lena could drink. She let the cool water wet her throat and did her best to breathe again. Gently, Kara lowered her back down to rest and folded a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. Lena sighed in relief.

“Get out. Don’t want you here.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered. “I can’t leave you alone like this. I’ll be right back.”

She was indeed right back, Supergirl walking into Lena’s budoir carrying a drug store bag full of medicine. She sat Lena up again and administered the foul tasting stuff over Lena’s protests, then shut off the lights.

Lena tried to roll on her side. It didn’t go well.

Kara knelt and slipped out of her boots. Then, she undid one side, then the other, and unclasped her cape from her shoulders. She then swept it over Lena and tucked it around her gently.

“Kara,” Lena muttered.

“Hush. It’s a blanket. It’ll keep you warm.”

Lena wasn’t sure what happened next, if she dreamed it or if it was real, but she felt the bed shift as Kara climbed aboard and laid down beside her.

Eventually, she woke up again. Kara was tucked against her back, one arm thrown protectively over Lena’s side, resting on her blanket cocoon. Kara snored lightly, lying on the bed so that her chin rested on the crown of Lena’s head.

Kara noticed she’d stirred and silently stood, offering Lena her next dose of syrupy, nasty medicine. She accepted it just as silently and laid back down to sleep.

The cycle continued. Day came. Kara didn’t leave her. She drew the curtains and laid on the bed beside Lena, never speaking, never making any demands.

Finally Lena was well enough to roll over and face her.

“Why are you here?”

“I heard Gillian’s Island coming from your living room and thought you must be in danger.”

Lena snorted in spite of herself.

Kara softened. Her big blue eyes, eyes that could launch a thousand ships, carried such a weight of sorrow that Lena felt a surge of pain and regret in her heart, wondering why in the hell they were feuding. No. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just…

“I’m sorry.”

Lena tucked herself into the blankets. She wanted to roll over, to turn away, to stop this before she did something she would regret later.

“I keep finding your things in my place,” Kara murmured. “It makes me wonder if it was different here. If we were different. What if I’d made other choices. If I’d been honest with you. Bolder.”

“You weren’t,” said Lena. “You aren’t. That’s the way it is. That door was closed.”

“When I landed on your balcony, it was open.”

“A mistake I won’t repeat. Careless. Thank you for helping me, but I didn’t need it. I don’t need you.”

Kara closed her eyes and sighed.

“I hate doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“You’re lying.”

Lena jerked back, as much as her aching body would allow, anyway.

“How do you know?”

It didn’t hit Lena that she hadn’t offered a denial, at least not until later.

“Easy,” Kara smiled. “I cheat. Skin conductivity and moisture levels. Heat bloom on your skin. Pulse. Pupil dilation. Breathing patterns.”

“I have the flu. That’s why.”

Kara frowned.

“You’re wearing my sweater.”

“It’s not yours. It’s hers. The lives we stole.”

Kara shook her head. “That’s not what he did. Your brother created this world to live out his fantasies and make me suffer. That’s why your things are at my place and mine at yours. It’s showing us the life we should have had,” a tear shone on Kara’s cheek, “had I not been a fuckup and a coward. If I’d trusted you.”

Lena choked back a small sob, and started to cough violently.

Without a word, Kara gathered her up and rested Lena’s head on her shoulder, walling her up in those beefy, protective arms of hers. Lena allowed it, curling her fingers against the twitching muscles of Kara’s back.

Lena wanted to pull away…

No. That was a lie, a miserable fucking lie. She didn’t want to pull back. She didn’t want to fight. She thought she had to, that she needed to.

“Don’t cry,” Kara said, tenderly brushing a tear from Lena’s cheek. “I know you’re furious with me. I know things are bad. I know your brother has power over us. It’ll get better. I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

“You already hurt me.”

“I know,” Kara whimpered, her voice wobbling. “I’m sorry, Lena. I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my entire life. I wake up every day praying I can find some way to take it back."

"You can't."

Kara tensed.

"Maybe you don't have to," said Lena.

Kara's breath caught. She lowered Lena to the bed, and this time wrapped them in the blankets together. She was so warm.

"I've got you."

Blessedly, Lena slept.

Each time she woke, she felt better. Eventually, she was well enough for Kara to leave the bed. A few minutes later, Kara came back, and she brought breakfast. Her appetite back, Lena dug in, enjoying the tea Kara brought.

Kara took the tray and plates when she was done.

"You look a lot better."

Lena nodded. "Ah, yes, thank you."

Silence. There was a heavy pause, and then Kara sat down beside her on the bed.

"I wish I'd been brave before."

Lena looked at her, really looked at her, this enchanting vision looking at Lena like she hung all the stars in the sky, her eyes so full of longing that Lena felt she might fall into them forever.

"What would you do if you were brave?"

"This."

Warm fingers curled around Lena's chin. Kara leaned in, and Lena felt it happen even before their lips touched. When they did, it was electric. Lena felt the world spinning. Kara caught her and lowered her to the bed.

"I don't care about multiverses and cosmic entities and your evil brother. No matter what they throw at me, I will always find my way back to you. If you want me."

Lena pulled her down into another kiss, and that was her answer.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #kisscorp #first supercorp kiss #yet another love confession #yet another first kiss #apologycorp #make up sexcorp #supercorp hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #sickfic

[your-nanas-house]

"Mr. Coleman said that..."

◇ Pairing: stepdad!Austin Butler X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: kind of dark, SMUT, sessions, therapy (invented by me, dunno if it exists), pervy, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic.

◇ Summary: Austin gets bit lost in the feelings that the "bond" therapy gifted him.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It took me so long, thanks for the kind anon that reminded me what Austin fic I wanted to publish. I think it's the very first Austin fic that I wrote... 🫣.

A small click and the front door of his attic was open, allowing him to enter and finally drop down the bag he carried all day around... plus the new script.

Austin had been out all day and he honestly felt all those hours on his shoulders other than his mood. He really was tired but happy, since he was about to see his little princess.

As his feet lead him to the open kitchen he could already hear her soft humming, which informed him that she was busy entertain herself with something

"Hi stepdaddy, how was your day?" Her sweet voice beamed after his footsteps popped her little bubble of calm. She didn't look upset or annoyed when seeing him... which was a good thing since they had some issues when her mom left them both.

Issues that with a bit of father and daughter therapy should had quickly disappear... or so the man, who was following the process, had told them the first meeting.

"Bit tiring but... it was good. How about yours? What did you do while I was out?" Austin's low raspy voice asked as his hand removed carefully his AirPods before his coat so that he could focus his attention on her completely.

She was still in her cute pajamas, a silly one that she had begged him to buy her as soon as she finished watching one of the latest movies of his... 'Elvis' 2022. Reason because her pants were of a baby pink filled with pictures of the king, matched by a baggy shirt with the quote 'Keep Calm and Love Elvis Presley'.

"Bit boring, studied a bit... and nothing much, I cleaned the house though" Y/n informed him after taking a big sip of her tea, humming softly when the older man's arms wrapped around her torso.. hugging her close to himself.

"So sweet of you" he murmured in her ear, tickling her with his short beard as his face snuggled in the crock of her neck more so to make her chuckle before pressing his lips against hers for a quick 'hello' kiss.

His head now resting on top of hers calmly.

"Also!.. I need your help" Y/n hummed out, putting down her cup as her heart beat faster in her chest.. butterflies forming in her stomach at her stepdad's cuddles.

She could already feel his chest vibrating softly as he replied with his voice which became even more lower that it used to be due to the time and work.

"With what, kid?" His big hand ruffled her hair playfully while his body moved to rest against the table of the kitchen so that his beautiful eyes could stare at her as she talked.

She really was so cute like that, her hair bit messy because of him and the glasses she put on just when she used her laptop so to protect them. It seemed quite domestic... bit too domestic since his body started to react a bit, aroused by the innocent scenario.

And the cute mad face she made every time he would tease or annoy her, was so cute but also such a strong turn on for him... expecially those pouty pretty lips, now covered by a watermelon lip gloss.

"Do you remember what Mr. Coleman suggested?" Y/n asked casually, glancing at him with the face he grow to know as 'the testing face'; a serious but funny expression that she always used when she wanted to see if he remembered something or if he forgot about it.

"Of what, sweetheart?" Austin replied with her same tone as he put down the script, pouring himself a glass of water before sitting on the counter to look in her direction. She was giving him her back but he could already see the pouty face accompanied by a small snort of disappointment since he didn't remember.

"The bonding exercises, Baba!" She whined out, looking at him while scoffing softly at his amused expression. He really knew her too well.

"Of course I remember, baby" Austin lied as he placed his glass on the surface so he wouldn't look her in the eyes without distractions

"He said at least once a week, two is better though..." she repeated what their therapist said to them some weeks ago, her eyes looking at him lazily bit tired of her lonesome day. Even too tired to notice his stare taking her whole in shamefully.

"You know that I'm always free to spend some quality time with you, baby" he rasped out before clearing his throat and finish his water, his body warming up at the mere view of her cute behaviour.

"That's a lie but anyway... Let's start it, hm" the young woman murmured, pecking back as soon as he leaned down to steal a bit of love while picking her up easily and move them on the sofa in the living room where there was more space.

"What were the exercises again?" Austin asked, his hands rubbing soft circles on her hips while his eyes pierced intensely in hers the whole time she explained to him "The 5 senses exercises to feel more connected. Touch.. with the yoga, hearing.. by listening and talking, taste.. by eating together, and.. view.. the stare".

Those were all topics they had to go through in their therapist's opinion.. a way to bond with each other better and share some quality moments as father... even though he wasn't her real dad, and daughter.

"I remember perfectly now... and what was the last one?" He asked while playing with a lock of her hair, smiling slightly when her index finger pressed against his nose while talking "It's the smell... we have to take in our scent... and that should be all. So!... where do we start?" The young woman beamed, getting up from his lap.

The older man really enjoyed seeing her so full of energy and joy, it was addicting.

"Okay, little one, let's start. You can choose with which one we begin".

.

Her choose was quickly and he found himself warming slightly up to start the first step. The Touch.. aka Yoga exercises.

Simple but helpful positions they had to do together to feel the struggles and the moving of their bodies.

"Need to change! Mr. Coleman said that we have to be as bare as possible for this one." The young woman reminded the older man from the other room, busy changing into something to start the exercise and have yoga behind so they could relax.

He said that?, Austin questioned in his mind and raised his eyebrows... he really didn't listen so much when that man spoke with them. He clearly needed to stay more focused in the next sessions.

"You need to change as well!" Her sweet voice urged him as she was now standing in front of him in the set of underwear he gifted her that Christmas. Matching bra and panties which colors were identical to her favourite bun that she had used to tie her hair up.

"Sweet baby Jesus above, you are stunning" he commented, holding himself from just cursing in front of her since he scolded her more than once when some bad words left her pretty mouth. It had became a game of theirs just saying some silly things instead of vulgar language.

"It's the set you gave me!" She informed him with a smile, her hands busy fixing her hair happy and warm to start

"I know, little one" the actor murmured while still staring, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

His body was reacting bit too much for his liking and he started to sweat a bit so he decided to get quickly ready and just move his hands to pull off his shirt and threw it away, exposing his built body to the air so that they could begin with the yoga.

Y/n was the first to lead and help, her smaller frame kept doing her best to keep up and help Austin while ending up most of the time just clinging on him like a koala or bouncing to reach his hands.. way too high for her reach.

It was funny, adorable and relaxing... till the sensations changed when he was the one leading the exercise.

"Baba! You have to follow my body" Y/n explained in a whiny playful voice as her young body bent down in front of him, her ass brushing against his crotch and then pressing lovingly when he moved on her, hugging her hips with his strong arms.

Fucking hot, he thought now that his cock overpowered his brain.

His breath became bit heavier while his hands massaged her flesh, he could have stayed like that all day... with his boner pressed between her firm and round ass cheeks still barely covered by those damn panties.

"Ready for the rhythm? Remember sync to let our bodies connect" she parrot what Mr. Coleman told them, making Austin curse internally since he had forgot about the movements... not that he minded though, since his worries disappeared as soon as her ass hit his half-hard dick.

His hips started to follow, taking the lead unconsciously, grinding his clothed cock against her soft flesh shamelessly.

"You got your phone in your pocket, Baba?" Y/n asked after a while, glancing behind to check on him, yelping softly when he moves her head easily by her chin. Making her look back ahead.

"Mhhm... focus, little one. Sync, remember?" Austin rasped out as his hips increased their rhythm, making her loose the balance she had and end up flat against the floor with him on top.

Her heart was beating fast and she couldn't deny that her panties were getting wet by his movements... she wasn't sure it was part of the exercises but who was her to correct her stepdad.

"You're doing so good, baby. So good" his low voice praised, making her maintain the rhythm and match his when his hips increased the tempo as his big hand, which was on her tummy, helped her continue it.

It was starting to get tired, her breath becoming breathless as she heard him grunting next to her ear.

"Austin, I'm not sure this is part of Mr. Coleman's exercises—" Y/n weakly spoke, letting a broken whine escape her mouth when his little finger pressed roughly against her clothed clit

"It's all part of Mr. Coleman's exercises to bond, baby. And call me like he said you should.. don't you want to make the sessions pay off?" Austin murmured huskily, inhaling deeply while lowering quickly his sweatpants and press his bare, rock-hard angry cock against her ass again, pulling the fabric of her panties so that it was stuck between her ass cheeks like his lenght.

"I said call me like Mr. Coleman said, little one" his tone became more stern as his hand spanked her soft flesh making her jolt

"Sorry, daddy! Sorry" she whined out, moving her ass up so to allow him to continue without interruptions... just like a good girl.

It was twisted but felt so good, so... damn good, with the soft skin of his cock caressing her inner thighs as he made sure to keep them closed so that he could fuck them. Hitting her clit with each thrust.

Her stepdad was dry humping her and she was loving it as much as he was... and she could tell that he was enjoying himself pretty much due to all the noises and praises that escaped his lips.

"Such a good girl! Fuck— fuck, fuck. Little one!" His horsed voice growled in her ear as his body shook against hers before something started to wet her thighs and panties. The young woman didn't had time to check before her own orgasm hit her whole and her back arched, a soft curse, which earned her a harsh spank, escaped her innocent sweet mouth.

"Language, baby... now how about we move to the food now, hm?" Austin suggested while massaging her warm flesh, moving his softening cock away from her shaking thighs.

#austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #austin butler fluff #austin butler imagine

[coolsvilleprincess]

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!! <3

Wanted to draw a bunch of different pairings so here we go!! I wanted to draw them on how I imagine their dates with each other would go.

Fred and Shaggy started out on a walk but halfway through Fred saw a place they caught a bad guy once and started reminiscing on their good times spent together and who is Shaggy to complain, they definitely went to get food after it though.

Daphne and Fred went to a screening at the Coolsville local cinema where they were showing one of the first ever 3D movies. When the movie is over Fred spends the rest of their date talking about how impressive the improvements to 3D films have been since they were first invented. Daphne doesn't mind that much since she still gets to cuddle and they also probably went to get food after it where Daphne assigns their friends roles in the movie they just watched.

Shaggy and Daphne went to a football game where Shaggy gets to eat very many football game foods such as Hotdogs and whatever else they eat at football games. Daphne isn't even rooting for a team cause at first she wasn't sure about going but it hits halftime and she's caught up in the atmosphere and uses the celebration of any of the teams scoring as an excuse to kiss Shaggy.

Velma and Daphne are working on very important mystery solving and journalism career things on their laptops so they don't have time to go on a date date HOWEVER that will not stop them from flirting through messages as they work. Daphne sends Velma things like videos and songs that remind her of her and Velma can't flirt back so she just sends hearts like a disaster lesbian, good for her tbh.

#scooby doo #scooby doo fanart #my art #fraggy #fraphne #shaphne #vaphne #mystery incorporated #fred jones #shaggy rogers #daphne blake #velma dinkley #mystery polycule #I'm posting this a day early cause I have plans on wednesday #PLEASE IGNORE THE FACT THE LINEART LOOKS A BIT CRUNCHY BEFORE YOU CLICK ON THE IMAGES I CANT FIX IT #AND I SPENT TOO LONG ON THESE TO NOT POST THEM IM SO SAD #why would clip studio's ink brushes do this to me?!!? Really let me down in my time of need wtf #also I think you can tell I like drawing Shaggy the most I think #well actually i enjoy drawing them all #also I'm very attached to the concept of adrenaline junkie Daphne i'm so sorry #daphne is in three out of the four of these good for her #also 13 ghosts shaggy vibes because im nothing if not a 13 ghosts shaphne girlie #i actually dont even have a favourite scooby ship im fine with most of them tbh #and by fine I mean so very not normal about fraphne and shaphne specifically like you don't get it #and since i didn't include scooby i added silly little scooby details like shaggy's socks #and daphnes nail polish colour and her headphones logo #so normal about this franchise i swear

[klausysworld]

(This is based on that cam girl idea I had except I ended up making more boring than I initially thought so I might make another or something? I dunno, either way I hope everyone likes it cuz it’s still cute)

Something special

Klaus was no stranger to sex. Over a thousand years he had tried damn near everything and knew just how to pleasure both himself and others. He found it both amusing and inspiring how humans invented new things to satisfy their needs and often tested them out. Webcaming sites were one of his favourites.

Having an eager, gorgeous girl on his screen teasing him for hours and moaning softly. It helped that he had a lot of money, it mean he had private chat rooms and calls with a lot of these girls. There, when it was only him, they would begin to lose more clothing. Some were happy to be completely naked for everyone to see but the ones who were out for money only did it for the right amount. They were his favourites, knowing that they got excited when he joined the live because he would offer what they needed.

He hadn't been on for a good while while he was busy with his curse and hybrids but once he had the time, he decided to log back on. He scrolled for a little while to find someone who peaked his interest. Klaus was careful with who he picked, he didn't want to have loads of girls waiting for him, he needed them to feel special and wanted.

But after a little while, he found her. Y/n, or at least that was her name on here. With a slight smile, he joined. She was in her panties and an oversized baby-pink jumper that went just over her thighs and swallowed her pretty body. Her hair was down and she was simply eating her dinner, gammon egg and fries. The wall behind her was white and he could see the end of her bed at the edge of the screen. She smiled at the camera as she dipped her fry in her egg and took it into her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing it down.

He watched the comments, and then her, studying how she reacted to different requests and compliments. Some people were asking for her to take off the jumper, some were asking her to lick her knife and others were asking to have a private or members only stream. She hummed softly as she took a sip of her drink, which was a tall glass of milk making Klaus smirk.

She shifted to sit up in her knees, her thighs parted but the jumper making it impossible to see between them. A good few people send her money, most a maximum of $50 but he could tell that she was happy with that. She let out a soft laugh at one of the comments, "mm it's just milk, I'm sorry" she smiled and as though it were contagious, so did Klaus.

For the next few nights he just watched her. The most she would let anyone see of her was her thighs or sometimes a little cleavage but she wasn't explicit at all. He began to wonder how much it would take to have her take her panties off. So, out of curiosity, he asked.

He watched as her face went pink and she fiddled with the edge of her t-shirt. "You're very forward..." she glanced at the accounts name "Nik" she murmured softly and he grinned.

A hundred?

He questioned with a sly smile and she nibbled her lip and ignored him making him hum lowly to himself.

Two hundred?

He asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in determination. When she still didn't answer him and instead began talking to a different one of her...fans I suppose, he decided to send her some money. $500 to be exact. Her eyes went wide and she seemingly shrank into herself. "I- um..." her face reddened and she paused for a moment before the steam ended. He then received a private message

I can refund you

was all it said and he frowned

Why would I want a refund? It's for you, sweetheart.

he replied with a click of his tongue, watching the three dots dance across his laptop screen.

I won't do what you want for it. You can have it back.

she was scared and he knew that but he didn't want her to be.

That's alright, love. You can keep it anyways. Maybe buy yourself something and wear it in your next show.

he offered, hoping she would accept. As soon as she did, he was in.

If you're sure? I'm very sure. Well then thank you, Nik ❤️

he smiled at his screen and went offline for the rest of the night. He began to picture how her body would look beneath her baggy clothes, he imagined her sexy little figure crawling towards him on his screen and her lips whispering his name like she had before.

The thought stuck with him even in sleep and followed him all the next day and onwards.

It took a good couple of weeks to fully gain her attention. Then he was on every day, sending in money and flattering her. He was happy to do so though, besides she had been more confident and a little more seductive with her behaviour. She still never took her clothes off, especially not for everyone but when he went into a members only room with her and a few others she would be in only her underwear. No shirt or jumper to hide her soft skin.

And after persistency, he managed to have a one-on-one session. He had his camera off to begin with but when she shyly asked if she could see him, he didn't want to deny her sweet voice. Her expression was somewhat relaxed when she saw him, he wondered what other kinds of people would manage to get her like this.

He smiled and hummed as he allowed her to look him over for a moment. "Better than expected sweetheart?" he purred and she shrugged sheepishly.

"Well yeah honestly" she laughed and so did he. Most of the men she went one-on-one ended up being either old and alone, young and horny or married and telling her she needed to be quiet because his wife was in the next room over or that he was on break at work. Still, she never hung up, they were paying her after all. Some of them were there purely to talk and of course others were much more direct about what they wanted.

Nik had been a bit of a mystery to her. Sometimes he was asking to see her panties and the next he was just wondering about her day or what things she had in her room like the teddy bears on her bed which she didn't mean to have in the shot.

So she was curious as to how this first personal interaction would go.

Klaus was mostly proud that he had gotten this far but also somewhat excited, after realising that Y/n had become his release for his stress after a long day in Mystic Falls, he began to feel a little something for her. He just knew if she were here that she'd be terrified, she was far too lovely for war and pain. If Klaus were honest, he didn't really understand why she was on this kind of platform, she really didn't seem the type but he assumed it was for the money or perhaps she wasn't as innocent as she made him and the others believe but he didn't think that was the case.

Either way, he had been looking forward to this evening for a while. "Well I'm glad I haven't disappointed" he chuckled and she smiled. She sat back against her fluffy pink beanbag so the camera could see her top half. His eyes traced the pattern on her white lace bra, a little jewel handing for the bottom. Her hair looked freshly done and he could tell that she put in much more effort for her spenders.

"Don't worry about disappointing me, I can promise that you won't" she told him, her voice smooth like silk as his tongue wetted his lips and he straightened up. He was sat in bed, his laptop on his lap over the covers and a bottle of lube on his bedside table just incase.

They began just talking about simple things, she asked him questions and he answered to an extent and vice versa.

But as the night grew older, he began to ask if he was allowed to have a better look at her. She agreed easily and stood up for him, giving a 360 of her body. He groaned softly and damn near begged for her to take her panties off and by the end of the call she did. Her thighs squeezed together but he could see her smooth little mound. She sat back in her beanbag on her side so the curve of her ass was on display for his eyes and occasionally when she shifted, he would catch a glimpse of her glistening cunt.

After a good while she had to go and thanked him for everything he had said to her and given her. He smiled back and thanked her in return "Perhaps next time we'll get rid of that pretty bra of yours too?" he teased and she blushed.

And next time, he did. He had her completely naked, lead on her front and eating some chips while they spoke. Klaus could imagine her tender breasts spilling out of his hands as she told him some innocent story without realising his attention being elsewhere as she leaned up on her elbows allowing him to see her pebbled nipples. Once he let out a groan, she popped her head up and realised. He could see something dim in her eyes and it made him feel some sort of guilt? But she brushed whatever it was away and smiled, asking if he wanted her to help him feel better.

After that he began to push further and further each time, becoming aware that when she trusted him enough, she would do just about. anything.

Her manicured nails would squeeze at her budded nipples while he gave slow strokes to his hardened cock, occasionally cupping his balls to tease himself.

Her legs would part for him to get that view he had longed for, his mouth watering and cock beginning to twitch with the need to bury inside her and yet he feared that he never would.

Often it was one-sided, Klaus would get off while she spoke delicious words to fuel his desire and showed off her body. But after a while he began to request that she showed him how she played with herself. He asked if she ever thought about any of her spenders when she was alone at night and if she would ever let any of them, more importantly him actually meet her. Touch her, fuck her. God he wanted to, he needed to.

Seeing her little fingers curl inside her tight little cunt was becoming addictive. It got even better when he would send her the money over and a link of the toys he wanted her to play with for him.

Sometimes she would bring her toys out in some of her normal streams, she would have her vibrating panties on while she spoke to her fans, grinding against a teddy and biting at her own lip to keep quieter than she would be normally.

Klaus and Y/n had become somewhat emotionally involved without telling the other of their true feelings. They both assumed the other was their for physical things. Y/n especially thought Klaus could care less about her. Especially when he suddenly stopped turning up. Never joining her performances or even coming online. She assumed he must've gotten bored or something?

She didn't know that he was in New Orleans, in and out of wars and living in a house full of bloodsucking creatures, night howlers and magic practisers.

And he didn't know that she was also in New Orleans, working in a little coffee shop out of the way. Not until he found himself inside it after a very long night. He didn't want to go home and stayed out, wondering until the sun rose and shops began to open. That was when he stepped inside and his eyes found hers.

Recognition flashed through both of them and he could hear her heart pounding as she stepped back quickly, tripping on her foot as her breathing escalated and a whispered chant of "nonono" slipped past her lips. On instinct he rushed forward to follow her, shoving past the little gate that let the employees go behind the counter. Other staff yelled at him but he just focused on following her breathing.

He got to a small room which a couple coats hung up and some bags, then he heard a slam and lifted his head to see a window smack closed.

Hurriedly he went back out through the front and sped round where she must’ve climbed out, he could faintly hear the quick patter of footsteps and chased it. His breathing was almost as fast as hers as he turned corners with pace and ran straight into someone. He apologised with a grunt and looked up only to find himself surrounded by people once again as the day was beginning in the busy city.

He let out a frustrated groan and spun around, checking through the crowds as much as he could. “For fucks sake” he growled, storming through the people until eventually finding his way home.

After that day he went back to that coffee shop every day until he eventually compelled one of the other workers only to find out she quit on the same day she saw him there. He compelled every person in the building until one of them told him that they knew where she shopped.

He then continued to hang around the shopping centre for hours like a full on stalker.

Eventually he spotted her, and he did not waste a single second before he was directly behind her “Y/n?” He whispered and she physically jumped as his hand came in contact with her shoulder. She smacked his hand off her, wide eyes staring at him and he knew she was ready to run so he moved forward. Hands either side of her head against the shelves of the supermarket.

Her breathing was laboured and fear rolled off of her. “What do you want?” She whispered, her voice a little more breathy under the circumstances but still mellifluous.

“I- I don’t know” he whispered back, becoming a little confused. What did he want from her? As if realising the situation a little better he moved his hands away from her. What the hell was he doing?

He had caged the poor girl, scared her and for what? To look at her? He could do that online though he was certain she would have blocked his access by now. He didn’t even think to log back on.

His jaw clenched and he took in the anxious expression painting her face. Had someone found her before? Did she think he was here to hurt her?

“I’m sorry” he murmured, taking a hesitant step back “I didn’t know you were here, I just saw you and- I don’t know…I just wanted to…see you? Or talk to you? I don’t-“ he could feel his mouth going dry as he stared at her

“How did you know I’d be in here?” She asked, afraid and a guilty look spread through him.

“Well…okay that makes it look worse” he laughed uneasily. “I just…I missed you” he whispered and she studied his face

“It’s not like it’s hard for you to see me” she whisper yelled and he sighed

“Well I know that but I couldn’t come on there anymore” he mumbled knowing that a number of beings would’ve been able to hear it.

“Right, you’re married or something. Look I don’t care okay? I’m not gonna tell anyone. I don’t even know if your name is Nik” she promised. “I won’t say anything and you won’t say anything…right?” She asked, a twinkle of desperation glistening in her eyes.

His expression softened slightly and he backed away slightly so she wasn’t trapped. “I’m not, married- but I won’t do or say anything. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you” he told her, still confused with what he himself was thinking and doing.

She watched as he left, bumping into someone by mistake as he left. She wasn’t sure whether she should be more afraid or at ease. She leaned more towards the first one.

She began to look over her shoulder whenever she was out, she moved apartments and changed her loyalties when it came to shopping.

And yet still, even with Klaus also trying to avoid her and leave her be, they managed to collide.

Walking straight into each other in the middle of town. His hand had lurched forward to catch her from falling and they both looked to the other prepared to look annoyed before both going silent and wide-eyed. After a second he let go of her and they both muttered an apology, what was worse was that he was with Rebekah and Hope. As soon as Y/n saw the child she turned moved past him, gaining speed as she went. Rebekah could tell something was wrong as her brother went to follow the girl only to sigh and turn back to Hope.

“Secret lover?” She teased but he didn’t look amused so she kept it to herself though she had Hope shared a look.

Klaus however only appeared troubled. He found himself making a new account to watch his girl once again but she’d been inactive for a little while, people asking for her to come back. He hoped he wasn’t the cause but part of him knew he was. He’d spooked her.

But after a while she came back and he watched, send in some cash and eventually he was on a one on one session again. He apologised for how he’d come across and promised he never had ill intentions. After a little time they fell back into pattern and their confidences grew when asking and doing things.

And when he saw her working in an art store selling paints and other mediums as well as helping out with some galleries nearby, he decided to actually talk to her comfortably.

He asked if she’d consider going to dinner with him and gave her his actual number. After a good week she agreed and he had in a fancy restaurant. He could practically smell her nerves but tried his best to soothe her, promising everything was okay and safe. She told him she did the camming for two reasons, for the money but also for herself because she enjoyed it and it made her feel good about herself. They both agreed that if their relationship progressed that it wouldn’t stop her from doing what she wanted just like she wouldn’t stop him from his….job that he made up.

In fact he asked if she’d ever let him join her. She had laughed and shook her head but several dates later when he had her pressed against the same bed that he’d watched her touch herself in months earlier, and was sucking pink marks into his skin, he asked again. And with convincing, she agreed.

God he couldn’t wait to have people know she was taken, he knew it would take a little while but he wanted to make all those people watch as he fucked her senseless. Show them how a real man could treat her instead of those toys.

Not that he didn’t enjoy using them with her, whether it was steaming or in their personal time. He kept her hidden from his family and she didn’t want to ask about it, a little worried for the answer after that time she saw the little girl and blonde women but she had fallen in love with him and it frightened her to think that any of this wasn’t real for him.

For her, she was safe. She was with someone who respected and knew about what she did and would pleasure her not only privately but willingly be apart of her…show.

And for him, she was someone who didn’t see him as a monster or a freak. She wasn’t caught up in any of his family drama or causing any. Everything was nice…for a while.

#klaus mikaelson #online relationships #klaus mikaelson yandere #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaleson imagine #the vampire diares imagine #rebekah mikaelson #niklaus imagines #tvd klaus #niklaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #klaus m #klaus mikaelson x y/n #kol mikaelson #klaus michaelson #tvd universe #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson headcanon #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson x reader #tvd fluff #tvd angst #tvdu fanfiction

[solurae]

four eyes (more to love underneath the frames) — PT.1

HELLO!!! okok the prologue received some good reception so i will!!! be continuing the series :3c THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE NICE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND OHHHH MY GOD THE MOTHER OF NERD!MIGUEL @nymphomatique REBLOGGED MY PROLOGUE (i could die happy) ty for the food and the inspiration to start this series!!!

i’m still the process of setting up my tumblr because my ass made this my secondary blog (but idek if that changes anything… i don’t think) OH AND YES THERE IS NOW A TAG FOR THE SERIES! ALSO PLSPLSPLS DON’T BE AFRAID TO SEND THROUGH ASKS FOR DRABBLES OR REQUESTS OR ANYTHING REALLY!!! i’m more than happy to feed us both hehe

tw/cw: mmmm not any i can think of (FIXING ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AFTER POSTING BECAUSE I’M COOL)

PROLOGUE?! < <

“sorry students, the projector is currently out of order so i’d like for all of you to just go through the powerpoint on your own. feel free to come up and ask questions.” the professor sighs as he closes his laptop and settles down onto his desk, the chatter of other students and laptop keyboards create the perfect white noise for your 8AM lecture.

you weren’t really that keen on studying this period anyway so you’ll just get it done later but god he looked so much better up close. why did miguel have to be so fucking dorky and hot and cool all at fucking once? it bothered you that miguel has never spoken to you. ever. but with that in mind, no one would ever think of the effect this nerd had on you, not even the nerd himself.

“oi mate, mandem depending on you to pass this class.” you shake your head after you’re slightly shoved to the side of your desk by none other than your best friend bad influence. hobie, hobie, hobie… you groan as you look his way, legs propped up on the desk as if he’s completely unaware that he’s in an lecture hall. next to him is peter, trying to shove hobie’s legs off the table for fear of accidentally hitting miguel who was seated right infront of you.

peter and hobie were the angel and devil on your shoulder that manifested into your closest friends. it was so hard to make friends (partially because you weren’t interested in anyone aside from miguel) and that everyone in your class were already in tight knit friend groups, and it was clear they all wanted to keep it that way with the silent treatment and one-sided conversations. but that didn’t matter. what did matter was that neither of them were taking this class seriously.

hobie - for god knows what reason - just took the class for fun. well, hobie took it out of spite. he said and you quote, “it is my take on deconstructing the stereotypes and preconceptions of particular social groups alongside us punks that dictate that we lack the desire and strive for academic feats”. and you know what? for someone who likes to laze around and count the panels of wood used on the ceiling for half the lecture, his high grades put his narrow-minded folks to shame. oh and peter? although he couldn’t afford to skip his classes, he did anyway. mary jane, MJ - the mother to his children, as he calls her - is in the humanities elective they both share. and peter might as well skip that class instead of looking at MJ as if she invented humanities. you don’t know how watching you and hobie bicker was a better investment of peter’s time but no one was complaining. someone had to remind the both of you of operation miguel mutation, or in other words, get his gaze out of his books and onto your face.

“so much for wanting to prove the world wrong when you’re relying on someone else to do it for you”, you scoffed at hobie, pretending to brush dust off your shoulders. he chuckled, “i just wanted to know how it feels to be those good for nothing, narcissistic capitalists, is all”. you shoved him so hard it rattled your seats and you didn’t even realise you accidentally kicked miguel’s seat until his cold hard gaze towards you even made hobie look like an art piece in the middle of rendering.

“can i help you?”, fuuuuuuck off. he sounds so fucking hot. insanely hot.

his large pitch black frames could never obstruct how chiseled miguel was, he had angular features such as his nose, his jawline and even his cupid’s bow. but these features were softened with warm red eyes and wisps of his hair coming down to frame his forehead. o’hara’s face overall was slightly scrunched, his hand gripped onto the fold away desk while he faced you, his casual attire in sweats could barely hide his build. his mouth was slightly open, the very tip of his fangs making themselves known. he was definitely a specimen, a gorgeous specimen for lack of better word. you didn’t even realise you were staring at miguel until he raised his eyebrow and glanced over at hobie, then over to peter who was just happily content watching your unplanned, unconventional first meeting.

“oh. um, no?”, you were still confused why miguel (the man you’ve been trying to get the attention of ever since the first inkling of a feeling), suddenly turned around and spoke to you—

“excuse me, may i ask that you don’t disrupt your peers during class? i’m watching you too, brown.” if your teacher scolding you like a wack ass boy in year 9 wasn’t enough to make you embarrassed, your quick descent into realising that you quite literally pushed yourself - pushed miguel, rather - to make the first move. in the worst fucking way possible. you ducked your head a bit in an attempt to avoid the gazes of your classmates only to find your shoe jammed between the gap next to miguel’s seat, missing his elbow by a mere few centimetres.

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

so much for devising a plan to properly introduce yourself by actually trying in class by answering the lecturers questions, to the point miguel can’t help but wonder that there is in fact competition. aware of his competitive nature, miguel would try to get ahead of you or widen that gap but then realise he was all wrong from the moment you’d tap his shoulder for a question you pretend to not understand, to look as if you’re struggling so much miguel can ignore his own studies for a little while to help you. men are stupid after all. miguel doesn’t apply here but being an outcast adjacent of the entire university has its benefits, in a way where it benefits your elaborate plan from stroking miguel’s ego by helping you, to ever so slightly become more and more interested in you. once you slowly ease into getting out of pretending to be an academic victim and miguel finds the joy in being academically challenged by the one girl who braved the odds and approach the mysterious mutant, he’d ask to you to meet at the cafeteria or the library. it didn’t matter. you would then, finally then, be in miguel’s line of sight.

“if this is your way of trying to get into my pants, i’m not interested.”

papers were stuffed into bags and the squeaking of chairs reverberated the lecture theatre. people were making their way to their next class while peter, hobie and yourself shared looks of disbelief, disgust, along with hobie’s infamous expression that scream the words i fucking told you so.

what the fuck? what the actual fuck was that?

o’hara didn’t miss a beat and swivelled around to start packing his belongings, completely unaware of how his response alone completely changed and destroyed all prior preconceptions about this man - or boy as you would now call him - turns out being smart never stopped anyone from being dickhead.

you felt like you just failed a quiz you didn’t know that was happening, despite being prepared to ace it.

it wasn’t like you to fail, however. especially not to him.

[ 🩷 — TAGS! @angelicful @lilipads @zaunsin @m4dyy @okkotszn @rhythmloid @cosmicbarstardust @thespaceinbetweennothing @cu1tvenus @huniedeux @oharasfilipinawife @ilovemuppets @loonalockley ] feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

#🥽 — four eyes! #miguel o'hara #i love miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #GRRRR MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL #miguel fanfic #<nerd!miguel3

[nevadancitizen]

-> (I'VE BEEN) DREAMING OF YOU

synopsis: könig comes into your reality.

word count: 1.2k

characters: könig, player! reader

trigger warnings: mention of canon-typical violence, maybe slightly obsessive könig oops lol

notes: self-aware cod au belongs to @puff0o0 , inspired by @simp4konig // i moved for college lol hopefully i'll be able to upload(?) more often + salf-aware aus are really my thing huh. my jam if you will

It had been a week since König figured out he wasn’t real. 

At least, that’s what he approximated it to be. Time was tricky if he actually tried to count the seconds and minutes and hours. 

But when he stepped off the helicopter and trudged back into base, he knew he would at least have some sense of relief. Some sense of… realness, even though he knew he only existed through the wires of ethernet cables, or maybe even something as primitive as a CD.

König knew his boots tracked in mud and blood and maybe even guts, but he didn’t care. Everything would be wiped clean and be put on a new plate tomorrow for… he guessed they would be called the players, to eat. 

He shut the door to his quarters behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes and sighing. He desperately wished he could tell someone, anyone, about what he had witnessed – what he knew to be true. 

He felt crazy. He felt blessed. He felt like a conspiracy theorist that was just re-inventing the idea that the whole world is a simulation – because it is! People re-invented ideas all the time, but there was nothing shameful in it. But if the rest of humanity (and for all he knew, humanity could only be KorTac and Specgru) oohed and aahed and said, “God, we live in a simulation? I’ve never heard that one before!” just to make him feel good, nothing would ever get done. But it still stung to know such a heavenly being existed and to keep such a huge secret. 

Of course he was talking about you, thinking about you. When did he not think of you, actually?

He felt almost hollow without you. Like you had given him warmth with your control – a raging bonfire he could only observe from a distance, but still felt the full heat of: as in, an actual heat in his chest whenever he felt his control slipping away, replaced with the security that came with being in your presence. And König didn’t hate it. Not at all. 

He didn’t even bother to shrug off his work equipment before he threw himself onto his bed. He turned over and swaddled himself with his blanket to try and emulate your warmth. It did nothing. 

It was a while before he fell asleep. And he had the strangest dream…

He was in your room. He had only caught glances of it, but here he was, tangled in your blankets and in your bed. 

And there you were. Sitting at your desk, typing away at your laptop. Your back was to him, but he could tell it was you. Even at this distance, you were so warm. 

You were wearing the big, chunky headphones you always wore when you played. He could hear quiet thumping bass coming from them. It was the only sound he could hear aside from your quick keystrokes. 

König slowly untangled himself from your blankets – he still had his boots on, the ones that had mud and blood and maybe even guts. Then he realized he had all of his work equipment on. 

He stood and surveyed his surroundings. Everything in your room was so… you. (Obviously. It was your room.)

His eyes snapped back to you when you took off your headphones. You pressed a button on the side to pause your music and then set them down. You stretched your arms above your head and let out a quiet groan as you leaned back. 

You looked so soft. So cute. Nothing like what König had seen through the screen. You had been slightly bitcrushed and pixelated, but now…

The warmth that blossomed in his chest was like no other. It spread out into his limbs, almost making him weak in the knees. His eyelids fluttered, but he forced them open to look at you, take in more of you. 

He tried to say your name softly, as to not startle you, but it came out choked and loud and awkward. His voice even cracked. 

You were so scared you nearly punched a hole through your monitor. You stood and turned, immediately grabbing a pair of scissors that were on your desk. 

Your hand shook as you pointed the pair of scissors at König. “T… take off the hood!”

König kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, even bending at the knee a little to be less threatening. He puts up his hands in a surrendering manner. “Schatz, no, it’s me. It’s König.”

“Shut up!” you barked. “I’m not – no way am I being killed or robbed or whatever by someone in cosplay!” Your eyes flit over his body, spotting a knife on his utility belt. “And give me your knife. Try anything and I’m – I’ll…” you glanced down at the pair of scissors (which you can’t really stab him with). “I’ll snip your dick off!” 

It honestly takes a bit of effort on König’s part not to laugh. Still, he slowly, carefully took the knife out of its holster and offered it to you, the blade pointed towards his chest. “Please, be careful.”

“I know how to handle knives,” you snapped. You put the pair of scissors back on your desk and took to pointing König’s knife at him. You took a tentative step closer, your jaw set. You reached a shaking hand out towards König’s face. “Don’t… move.”

"Mein Leibling.” König breathed out the words. “What are you doing?”

“The mask,” you said. “I’m taking it off. Then I’m calling the police.”

König just looked at you with wide eyes, his blue-grey eyes stark against his eyeblack. His eyebrows creased as he looked down at you, but said nothing. 

And then, König felt a blossoming warmth as his face was exposed for the first time in what felt like forever. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your eyes rove over his face. Under the hood wasn’t a face: nothing except for his eyes, eyebrows, and a little bit of the surrounding skin. The rest of it was unloaded textures, a checkerboard of black and bright purple. 

“Schatz…” 

“König…”

König’s eyes opened as you said his name. You didn’t notice before, but his eyes were detailed, told a story. This wasn’t the king of the battlefield – this was König. Here, he wasn’t a killer, wasn’t someone who saws someone’s head off with a dull plastic knife and doesn’t even blink when the blood spurts out. He wasn’t the long-shot-drop-pop one-bullet-wonder. He was a man. 

König gently reached up and took your wrist and pulled your hand away from his hood. It fell back into place, covering up his checkerboard face. 

He looked down at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. 

“You’re…” you sighed – not disappointedly, but more surprised. “You’re actually him. You’re König.”

“I am,” König said simply. 

“Schatz,” you said. “What does that mean?”

König smiled down at you, even though he didn’t have a mouth. His eyes crinkled at the outsides. “Treasure.”

He gently let go of your wrist, his hand traveling up your arm until it came to your shoulder. His fingers brushed against your jaw, the rough texture of his gloves making you tense just the slightest bit. 

He whispers softly, like he’s afraid of you hearing his voice. “My treasured player.”

#riptide writes 🌊 #call of duty 🪖 #self aware cod au 🎮 #sacod au #self-aware cod au #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare ii x reader #modern warfare 2 x you #modern warfare ii x you #modern warfare 2 x y/n #modern warfare ii x y/n #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #mw2 x you #mw2 x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #könig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #konig #könig x y/n

[river-bottom-nightmare]

au where the batkids just sort of,,,,,,invent a new batkid

it starts fairly innocuously, a cowl for someone’s costume ends up the wrong shape or the wrong colour. dick, having dropped by the cave to hand off some evidence or beg alfred for his new potato recipe (most likely both), sees it and his instant reaction is oh my god did bruce adopt another child vigilante? he’s colour-coding us now? fucking splendid

the confusion is cleared up quickly, but everyone got such a good laugh out of it that they keep the new helmet, insisting it belongs to bruce’s new kid ecurb. their vigilante name is Shadow The Dark Lad Blackwing Moron-With-An-Orange-Helmet Batbird. ever so creative.

(bruce doesn’t want to know.)

they collectively design a new costume for him. they convince oracle to help them get ecurb into the system, though it really doesn’t take much convincing, just a bit of dick’s puppy eyes and the utter ridiculousness of the situation that has her cackling. ecurb’s backstory is that he was part of travelling circus in america when he was kidnapped, held as a hostage, and tortured by the joker, during which he learned of batman’s true identity and also How To Fight Good, then was sent to kill bruce but was adopted by him instead. he’s a little older than damian but a little younger than duke, fights exclusively with brass knuckles, and his costume is black with orange polka dots.

(bruce really doesn’t want to know)

they talk about good old ecurb, or batbird depending on the company, amongst themselves all the time. good old ecurb, the only bat fast enough to get cass in rooftop tag. i heard ecurb took on bane with nothing but a water balloon and an empty laptop case and won. well i heard ecurb can get the gotham’s corrupt politicians to apologize to him. yeah, well i heard ecurb’s secretly a meta whose power is to neutralize other metahumans, and bruce keeps him as the ultimate contingency plan.

they talk about ecurb so much that the justice league believes bruce really did acquire a new child. other superhero teams are a little more skeptical, but after several select appearances in which different batkids donned batbird’s armour and were conveniently caught on camera, even they start to believe it. the titans really want to meet this new vigilante who can actually, consistently get dick to sleep. young justice want to fight him. but ecrub’s always undercover, or on a mission, or recovering because bruce trusts him so much, he’s already putting him in charge of the big stuff.

(bruce really really doesn’t want to know)

there are legends about ecurb. photos of him looking powerful yet mysterious, a carbon copy of batman but with orange polka dots. there are stories of the villains ecurb took on singlehandedly and won. apparently the green lantern corps contacted him and he turned them down. apparently he infiltrated the fortress of solitude and now is the leading expert on kryptonian tech. ecurb doesn’t fall off a cliff, he just changes the altitude of his fight. ecurb crashed a plane into a mountain and the mountain apologized to him.

they fake ecurb’s death as part of a plan to save the world. over a hundred heroes show up at the funeral. clark’s heart aches at bruce’s red-rimmed, watery eyes. bruce is two seconds away from collapsing on the floor in disbelieving laughter. ecurb rises from the dead a couple weeks later, no worse for the wear. his new costume now includes orange and pink polka dots.

the bats swear to take the secret to the grave.

#i have no idea where i was going with this #utter crack i swear #i just want them to joke about a new child bruce adopted #and it just. snowballs #kaahkgkaegarehgahe #scribbles from the swamp #batman #batfam #batfamily #dc #batman headcanon #batfam headcanon #batfamily headcanon #dc headcanon

[teatreeoilll]

𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐑𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 (𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐗 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . •

w/c - 9k content - MDNI! 18 + , minors and ageless blogs do not interact! fem!reader, evil!reader, a lot of plot with porn, much hurt, much angst, cussing, mention of drinking and smoking, VERY shitty parenting, child abuse, character death but not one of the mains, manipulative themes, i invented suguru's parents names, did i say much hurt? everyone's in their early twenties, cellist!Geto, saxophonist!Gojo, violinist!reader, shitty!everyone, kinda dark really i guess so please read at your own discretion, I'm sorry, really

a/n - there will probs be a second part based on the ending, if my back will ever stop hurting from being hunched over my laptop for four days straight writing this insanity.

Dedicated to the dear @telvess who read every scene like five times while I wrote and re-wrote this.

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° .•

Jealousy. As a result of your young age, you couldn't put it into words quite yet, but you felt it - choking up your dry throat as your father held your head steady with his fingers digging deep into your scalp to make sure your head wouldn't move an inch.

"Look, child," he said, "really look."

"M-My head, Dad," you sniffled, "It hurts."

You peered through the tiny crack in the large white doors into an empty rehearsal room. Bare walls, empty chairs - all but one, where a young boy sat in the middle, dragging his bow across the strings of a cello like it would be the last thing he does in his life. He did it fervently, desperately, repeatedly over the strings to rumble the sounds through the room. His brows furrowed. His raven black hair was a cluster of strands jolting up and falling on his face each time he moved. It made him look exactly like what you felt - electrified.

Your jaw slacked, and your heart raced within the confines of your chest.

"You see, child?" Your father's words lingered above your head, "Can you finally hear what beauty sounds like?"

You heard, and it haunted you.

-

When he's playing, anyone would agree that Geto Suguru is breathtaking. Below the cuffs of his white button-down are pale hands, guiding long, strained fingers to move feverishly across the fingerboard. Above them, his face, a marble carving with half-lidded eyes, pointed idly at his cello.

Weary music for weary people, he thinks, lifting his gaze just enough to meet the dull faces with greying hair filling the large hall. Their constipated expressions stare back at him. They're just waiting for the cue to clap, although he doesn't mind - not as long as each note of the concerto* he played was perfect.

And by god, do they clap. A standing ovation, long enough to escort him in his path to the stage exit, loud enough for the echoes to linger as he greets the tall, blue-eyed man waiting for him there and frenzied enough to make your knees buckle under the tight fabric of your tailored evening dress.

"It was a good one," the blue-eyed man says, "as far as alarm clock music goes, that is."

"Funny how you keep calling it that, Satoru," Geto chastises, his fingers undoing the clasps of his cello case, "but you're always on the verge of falling asleep when you hear it."

Oh, you think, fiddling with the violin in your hands, so that's Gojo Satoru. Everyone knew who he was; the Gojo family name was arrogantly plastered on the walls of every concert hall in the city, including the one you were about to play in now.

Your tremble. You can't help it - that standing ovation set the bar so high you fear the bow in your hands might snap from the intensity of your grip. But it doesn't, and someone briefly introduces your name on stage.

You glance at the two men, catching Geto's uninterested expression. Your stomach churns. The dignified way it graces his annoyingly good-looking features makes your muscles tense; it's as if he's exhausted from doing the crowd a favor by allowing them to worship his playing.

Arrogant fucker. You think, and he nods at you stiffly, acknowledging the misfortune of performing after him.

As you drag your feet across the polished floor, you can only hear the sound of your own erratic breathing. "Breathe in, breathe out," you mutter under your breath as your shaking knees give the last of their strength to get you to the center stage.

And then a twitch, a breath hitch, and a loud thud.

The room hums with gasps for an instant before going silent again, and every eye in the vicinity watches you lay splayed across the wooden floor.

The shame burns in your cheeks, rushing through your face down to warm your aching body. As a desperate escape you turn your head away from the crowd, only to catch in the corner of your eye the two men still standing at the stage exit.

Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me.

"Oof," Gojo huffs, wincing at the sight as he turns to his friend, "Come on, we'll be late if we don't head out now."

Like looking at a trainwreck, Geto's unable to turn away. His lips purse; what a pity.

The silence grew, and you knew you must do something - anything to let this moment pass. You push yourself up, throwing a quick glance at your violin, a string snapped, fuck. "I hope -," you grunt, your voice hoarse from disuse, "I hope Rachmaninoff* gets the same gasps." A wave of suppressed chuckles and claps gushes around you. Oh, thank god.

Your cheeks are still hot, and the first stroke of your bow is hesitant, just a soft flick of the wrist to see if the three remaining strings are still in tune. Is this a good idea? But the crowd's anticipating gaze burns through you, rendering you unable to move. You focus on replacing the missing notes and play the piece - with jagged strokes coming from your still shaking hands, some notes cut it, but just barely.

Gojo nudges his friend's shoulder, "Hey, I said we'll be late."

Geto's pursed lips open lightly, his dark eyes fix intently on your bow, "Hmm?" He hums at his friend's words, dragging him back from his thoughts.

a/n - * - Bach's Cello Suite in C Minor, Sarabande. * - Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G minor, originally for piano, transcribed for violin.

-

"A Jazz club?" you furrow your brows at the music and the tang of smoke already reaching you from the narrow entrance hall.

You'd only met Shoko a few short weeks ago when college started, and she quickly became your only friend - as often happens to two people in a room who prefer to be alone.

"Yes, my friend's playing - you'll hate him," she says. Shoko has that thing where she doesn't change her tone when she says something sarcastic, so you're stuck nodding at her words with an uncomfortable grin on your face.

She tugs you by the sleeve of your shirt, guiding you down the stairs and through the prematurely drunken crowd that eagerly awaits what would be the third song of the evening.

"This would never pass in our concerts," you mutter under your breath, although you kind of wish it did as you look at the people laughing, reaching for another drink, huffing smoke from their mouths while making idle chatter as the players take a short break between songs.

A bright, warm note pierces the room, and like an obedient platoon to an officer's 'attention,' all the eyes fall back on stage. The white-haired man under the mellow spotlight makes a swift move to wipe the mouthpiece of his saxophone before returning it to his lips and blowing into it again - this time, a cue for the drummer, who starts a ruthless pace on his cymbals.

"If jazz is a god," Gojo's voice rings through the room, "then the saxophone is its altar."

How could he say that with a straight face? You think, unable to take your eyes off his clearly pretentious demeanor that would be borderline comical if it wasn't redeemed by his outstandingly handsome face, from the rolled-up sleeves and undone button of his blue dress shirt to the round sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks like pure sin.

"The Voice of Chunk*," he announces the piece and the room booms with shouts of excitement as the saxophone howls its first long and angelic Mi.

By the time the set ends, Gojo's a mess. A dusty red color flushes his pale cheeks as he pants, a mad gleam in his eyes when he looks at the crowd, which only shouts for another encore. He wipes the sweat off his brow and leaves the stage without a word.

Shoko drags you down to an empty table near the stage, a cigarette propped between her lips as she utters, "Ah," to the sound of a squeaking chair, which Gojo Satoru plops on, splaying his limbs on the wood.

He turns to Shoko, pointing a thumb at you, "Your friend?"

"Mhmm," Shoko confirms, "(Name)." She takes a sip of her cheap beer.

Perpetually assuming everyone already knew him, Satoru Gojo doesn't introduce himself. "What'd you think?" He asks.

"It was very good," you say, and mean it. He wasn't humble, but as far as performances go, he didn't need to be.

"Good?" He turns back to Shoko, looking at her like a wounded puppy, "Shoko.."

"She did say very, Satoru." Shoko sighs, "He hates the word good."

Your breath hitches as Gojo lays a large hand on your thigh, "Calling jazz good is terrible." He says, "It means it did nothing to you. Even calling it horrifying is a much better choice."

Another chair squeaks in your proximity, and Gojo removes the hand from your thigh to place it on the table, "Suguru!" He exclaims. "How was it?"

God, what's he doing here?

"Horrifying," Geto smirks at his friend.

His dark eyes turn to you as he says, "Geto Suguru," and extends a large, calloused palm, which you hesitantly shake. The skin contact makes you shudder. His eyes narrow, "Have we met before?"

The truth is - Geto knows rather well that you have met before. He spent two days after the concert thinking about your figure lying on the wooden floor, and it wasn't for the curve of your ass that pointed towards him, although that didn't escape his thoughts either. His mind raced with thoughts of how quickly you bounced back from your fall, made a joke, and started playing. Could it really be so easy?

"Oh - maybe it's - uh," you babble, your mind already trying to devise an excuse to leave.

"Ah, I know!" Gojo chimes in, "It's our tumbling violinist," he chuckles, "I never forget a girl after I've seen her on all fours."

Geto raises an eyebrow. "We both know that's hardly true."

You stare at Shoko with desperate eyes pleading for a change in topic. She puts down her drink, "Where were you Suguru? I didn't see you the entire gig." Thank god.

"Just there," Geto motions to the side of the bar, where a beautiful light-haired girl sips on a drink, "I've seen him play plenty of times."

I should be polite. "Oh, so you like jazz?" You ask.

Gojo chuckles, removing his sunglasses to reveal clear sky-blue eyes, "Entertain our guest, Suguru."

Geto leans back, arms crossed over his chest, and even his words sound carefully rehearsed - as if he's being interviewed, "It's not that I don't like it. There's just no merit to it." Against your wishes, you meet his gaze, restraining yourself from rolling your eyes at him. "It's mostly improvisation. Not one jazz piece stays the same over time - it blatantly disregards why we value music. Can you imagine someone changing even one note in Rachmaninoff's preludes?"

Is he talking about the ones I played?

Geto leans back, "And that's without mentioning the mistakes."

You furrow your brows, and your chest tightens at his words, "The mistakes?"

"Suguru's just jealous," Gojo smirks, and his arm snakes around your shoulders, "because I've got an ability he doesn't. I like to call it blue." His other hand traces lines across the wooden table, making an invisible note staff, "You see, in jazz, there's no such thing as a mistake. It's considered beautiful even if you play a note a bit too harsh or out of key. They're called blue notes."

"Well, a mistake is just a mistake, isn't it?" You lie, too proud to admit you were ashamed of the embarrassing performance they witnessed, "You shouldn't be proud or overcritical of it - it just is."

"It's a good philosophy," Geto says softly, and a faint smile appears on his lips, it makes sense now, "It works well if you just play for fun."

A decade of rigorous violin practice flashes before your eyes, the callouses on your fingers you were teased for as a child, and he dares to say it's for fun?

Your cheeks heat up, "Well, what do you play for? Suffering?"

"Perfection," he answers. Prick.

"Perfection?" You sneer, clenching your jaw, "Then what about improvisation?"

"Leave that vice for the jazz musicians." He says, and his expression suddenly changes, "I'm sorry, I know you improvised in your Rachmaninoff; you did the best you could - considering." He means it earnestly.

The veins throb in your forehead, Is he pitying me?

Gojo laughs, "If you keep bickering, I won't remain the star of the show tonight," and you notice the not-so-discreet looks of the people at the other tables ogling you.

"It's getting kind of late anyway," Shoko says, smothering her cigarette butt against the ashtray's bottom, "Why don't we go before we miss the train?"

"I'll give you a lift," Geto says, and you stare at Shoko, hoping that your wide, begging eyes will lead her to decline, "Come on," He adds, standing up, "It's raining outside, and our violinist can slip up even on dry flooring."

a/n - * - Voice of Chunk, The Lounge Lizards, 1988

-

"I'll see you in school," You say to Shoko, who exits the back seat of the silver Toyota, leaving nothing but a bitter smell of smoke and a long, strained silence lingering in the car.

"Which way?" Geto points to a fork in the road.

"Left, then straight for a while." And could you be so kind as to crash us into the nearest wall? You chuckle inside your head.

He turns his head as if he heard you, "So, a mistake is just a mistake, is it?"

And your fists clench momentarily, their tension softened only by the quiet, sweet sound of Samuel Barber* playing through the radio, weaving its melody with the heavy pounding of rain on the car roof, "Well, if you dwell on them too much, you're not going to have any time left to fix them." You wish you meant it.

He ponders silently before asking, "How'd you start playing?"

Is he only asking to make a snide remark? You decide to keep your answer curt. "My father gave me his violin when I was young."

The windscreen wipers work full force to make the dark road ahead visible, "My mother never let me touch her cello," he says, his unbothered tone now laced with somber notes, "I hated the thing."

The ache in your chest is almost unbearable, your fingers dig into the fabric of your trousers. He hated it, and he still plays like that?

"Then why play?" You inquire, watching the streetlights' reflections glint in his dark eyes.

Because it matters, it has to matter.

He laughs, and you can't help but notice how his face softens when he does, "It pays for college," a speck of red tint dusts his cheeks, and a strange pull flares in your chest at his defenseless look, "Don't I look like a scholarship boy?"

"Maybe if I squint," you say as he turns to look at you. You narrow your eyes, "Nope, can't see it," and he laughs again, making the remnants of alcohol turn in your stomach.

When you arrive, you step out of the car and he watches you disappear into the building's front, his fingers tapping restlessly on the wheel. A weak, burning sensation plagued the muscles around his jaw; were they really so unaccustomed to laughing?

a/n - * - Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, Op.11

-

15 years ago

The Geto residence was an ever-tastefully decorated one-story house in the rural areas outside Tokyo, always graced by the echoing sounds of an Italian-made cello. Geto Suguru himself was a wide-eyed child, six years old, and already praised for being prematurely intelligent by his parents' arrogant friends; "Your little Suguru is so clever," one of his mother's friends said, leaning over the dinner table to tug mercilessly on his cheek, "I bet he'd skip a grade as soon as he starts school, don't you think, Kieko?"

To which his mother only hummed in response, quickly diverting the subject, "The Bolshoi* is performing in the city next month. Will you come?"

Suguru didn't mind these things much. He wasn't the kind of child to look for praise; he didn't care for it from strangers' mouths and never knew the delight of hearing it come out of his mother's ever-pursed lips.

The next morning, Kieko Geto sat on a sturdy, padded stool and played with unwavering concentration until the midday sun sipped through the windows, blinding her eyes. Only then did she stop, turning back to notice her son's inquisitive gaze peering from the doorway.

"Come," she instructed, and Suguru took a few hesitant steps to the middle of the room. His mother positioned the cello upright, the wooden beast towering over him as she pressed a flat palm to the middle of the fingerboard, measuring his height against it. "One day," she said, "you'll be big enough to play it, Suguru."

A phone rang, and his mother stepped out. Suguru stood a long while staring at the instrument that leaned lazily against the wall. One day - he didn't want to wait for some vague, distant day, and his arm itched with impulse.

Suguru lifted the bow from the stool, ramming it violently across the strings. It made such a horrendous sound that he thought for a moment he hurt it, and now the thing was howling in pain.

"Suguru!" his mother shrieked as she shoved him out of the way, "What did you do?" Her pale fingers grazed the cello, searching for new marks on the wood.

The bow in her hand glinted like a Katana under the sunlight as she swung it at his head.

The next few minutes were a blur. Suguru guessed he screamed since his father stormed into the room, pushing him to stand behind his back. His eyes were fixed on the creases on the back of his father's shirt, changing their shape like sand dunes as the man's arms moved frantically through the air as if he were conducting his own shouts.

The boy placed a hand on his forehead. "Dad," he tugged hesitantly on the creases, leaving red stains on the pale blue shirt, "Dad."

a/n - * - The Bolshoi Ballet

-

A failed poet turned local journalist once described Geto Suguru's playing as having a gut-wrenching elegance, and as you stood at the large doors leading to the conservatory's hall, you couldn't help but hear what he meant. Angelic strokes on the rumbling strings, and each note is -

"Shit," he cusses, dragging the bow harshly along the strings as if it could saw the instrument in half if he tried hard enough. Even as he does so, he can't seem to make it sound bad. The bow drops on the floor with a hollow thud, and he runs a defeated hand through his hair, brushing back a long black strand to reveal a two-inch, pale scar on the side of his forehead.

He lifts his gaze up, noticing you standing by the door. How long has she stood there? "Violinst," he says. "Come to practice?"

Seeing him laugh a few days ago must have been a figment of your imagination. "Yes," you utter.

"It's occupied until six."

You make your way to the low stage through the aisle between the empty rows of seats, "It's ten past six," you remark, and Geto glances at the clock, frowning at it like it broke a long-standing promise.

You reach the stage, putting your violin case on the still-warm seat of the lone chair in the middle. You shudder at the warmth, watching Geto lift the massive cello case as his other hand reaches into his pocket, taking out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, "You want one?" he asks, holding it open.

You shake your head, "Thank you."

He puts one smoke between his lips, patting down his pockets, "Got a light?"

You shake your head again, "Sorry."

He shrugs, his eyes fixing on the violin in your hand, and you notice the slight puffiness under his eyes. "Not my day, I guess." And it's a long gaping silence while he puts the cigarette back in the pack, "Do you mind if I stay?"

"No," Yes. "But if you scrunch your nose at my mistakes, you leave."

"I don't scrunch my nose," he retorts.

"You do."

Geto runs a long finger along the bridge of his nose down to the tip, leaning forward slightly to meet your eyes, "Straight as an arrow," he says without a smile, and you turn red at the sudden proximity, fixing your gaze on the shiny white floor beneath your feet.

"Alright then," you mumble.

Geto sits in the front row, reclining on the backrest of the crimson-colored seat with his hands resting on his spread thighs while his cello case leans on the seat next to him like a second observer. You might as well put on a burlesque show from how naked you feel under his steady gaze.

You drag the bow across the strings, echoing a dissonant tone throughout the room.

"Are you testing me?" He says with a smug smile plastered on his lips, but you hoped for a heartfelt one instead.

"Mhmm," you hum, taking a few steps forward to the verge of the stage, where you take a seat with your legs dangling from the edge, "You passed." and he chuckles, soft and low.

As you begin to play, Geto gets up from his seat to pace back and forth along the aisle, his brows furrowed and his thumb pressed against his lips while he listens to the music.

Your muscles strain, bracing themselves for the suite's climax, now's the hard part, you think, letting out a frustrated huff as your eyes fix on Geto. You miss the first note.

He halts, and your bow leaves the strings as you await his reaction in the irksome silence of the hall.

For a moment, he's desperate. Desperate for you to do what he thought was an almost inhuman feat after such a mistake.

He takes a few steps closer, towering over you while his eyes stare intently into yours, "Keep playing," he demands.

Your breath hitches as you watch him slowly lower himself to his knees beneath you. He places large, calloused palms on your knees, eagerly spreading your legs while his eyes are still honed on your face, relishing in the red flush burning your cheeks. He runs a hand under your skirt, grazing your thigh with long, rough fingers, a hint of a smile on his lips when he hears your breathless gasps, "Keep playing," he repeats.

Smile, god, you hated that smile.

You play a few jagged notes before your arms give in, and you place the violin on the floor with a soft clunk. Your now free hands grasp his hair, freeing it from his neatly tied bun to fall down his shoulders.

"Eager girl," he mutters, tracing his finger along your wet panties, and you tug harder at his hair. I'm the eager one?

"Q-Quit teasing," you stammer as he yanks you closer to the edge of the stage, pulling off your panties with a swift move. You shudder as his warm breath fans over your exposed cunt, panting heavily as his fingers dig deep into your thighs.

"Hmm?" He murmurs, placing soft kisses against your inner thighs, letting his teeth graze the skin but stopping every time right before he reaches your soaked pussy. Just do it, for the love of god, just do it.

You're reduced to a quivering mess, fighting the urge to push his head into your wetness, "Please," you whimper breathlessly, frowning at the loss of your pride under his touch, "p-please stop teasing," and you finally feel his tongue lick a stripe up your clit as he grunts softly at your taste.

"Good girl," he groans out, letting his lips wrap around your bud, burying his face so deep in your cunt you feel his nose rub against your clit while he rasps out a soft "Fuck," that sends shivers up your spine.

He was messy, fervent, eager as his tongue worked on your clit, and you grew dizzy at the sight of the usually calm and collected man disheveled and red-faced between your legs, moaning out his name as you felt yourself clench against his lips, "S-Suguru, fuck -."

He'd never heard his name come out of your lips before, but this was a better first time than he could imagine. He grew unbearably hard in his jeans, rutting against thin air almost instinctively every time you rolled your hips into his face, "Say it again," he demands, and his deep voice sends a rush of heat to your face.

Can he do it? Can he make you even more of a mess on his fingers? Can he watch while you stutter his name, while your face is a beautiful flushed mixture of those blunders he loved seeing you make?

"Suguru," you look at him through glazed eyes, and he frees the hand that grabbed your thigh to slide two skilled fingers into your soaked cunt, "S-Suguru," you whimper out when they sink deeper, pumping into your sweet spot with a harsh pace.

A drunk smile grazes his lips when you clench against his fingers. It takes him all his strength to pull away from your cunt, "You want more, princess?" He teased, fingers pumping lazily into you.

You manage to whine a quiet, "Y-Yes."

"Then ask," he coos, his smile turning into a devilish grin, and you squirm at the loss of his tongue, clutching his hair tighter.

"Please, Suguru," you breathe. How many times will he put me through this? And your muscles contract when he flicks his tongue over your cunt again, "p-please, Suguru - I'm - " you babble as he resumes his harsh pace, your thighs closing on his head, hips rutting desperately for some more sweet friction against his tongue.

"Please, fuck - " you moan, arching your back. His fingers still push into you as he groans at the taste of your wetness gushing on his tongue, licking it hungrily while you pant almost inaudible whispers of his name, and he thinks he might come from the sweet sound of your voice alone.

His lips finally let go of your clit. He pushes himself up from his knees to face you, his mouth wet with your essence as he brushes his lips against yours. Barely a kiss, but you grow dizzy anyhow, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, running your other hand along his T-shirt-clad stomach down to the bulge in his jeans.

"No," he utters. No?

"Huh?" Your brows furrow, "Do you want me to take you out for a cup of coffee first?" It was supposed to be a thought, shit.

He laughs, and you watch the lines form in the corners of his eyes, "Could be nice," he says, "besides, it's your rehearsal hours; don't you want to practice?"

"Not really," you grumble, "You can use them if you like." You reach down to pick up your panties from the floor where he discarded them, only to see him grab them first.

"I could," he muses aloud, "I'm playing the Grand Hall opening in a few weeks," and he catches your gaze for a second, "but I'd rather watch you play." And you blush as he tucks your panties into the front pocket of his jeans, "You'll get them later," he says, "If you're good."

"If I'm good?" You furrow your brows, "If I don't make any mistakes, you mean."

"No," he asserts, his words a bit loud, catching you off-guard as you fumble for your violin, "If you're good."

After you refuse his ride home, it's a long walk of shame back to your apartment. You feel as though your pride was left in his pocket together with your underwear, but maybe, just maybe, you'll make something good come out of it.

-

"Dad put it - " Suguru's arm held his father's in a tight grip across the coffee shop's table, urging it to release the silver spoon in his hand, "Put it back, please."

"They've got plenty," his father barks, his eyes darting around to observe the busy staff of the cafe while he hides the spoon carefully in his bag.

Suguru lets out a weary sigh, focusing on the swirling cream in his coffee mug, "So do you," he says, the taste of stale regret mixing in with his drink when he lifts it to his mouth.

"Eh?" His father's eyebrows knit together, wrinkles forming under his five o'clock shadow when his lips purse, "You here to judge me, boy?"

Suguru takes a sip from his coffee but finds it stuck bitterly in his throat under his father's hostile stare.

"Thought so," the man says, his dirty fingernails tapping on the wooden table as he adds, "Now, will you finally quit fooling around with that thing?"

"I don't know, Dad," Suguru chokes out.

"She croaked this morning, the bitch. She won't come to see you play now, would she?"

Suguru's eyes widen, his hands quivering, pads of his fingers digging into the scortching coffee mug, threatening to tumble the liquid over the rim, "What?"

"Croaked, gone, dead. She left you that cursed cello of hers," his father eyes the sugar dispenser on the table, brushing his fingertips on it, "So you'll sell it. And give the money to your father," his shoulders draw back, he's proud, "for all the things he did for you, yes?"

"I don't know, Dad," Suguru mutters.

The man's agitated expression deepens the wrinkles on his forehead, "'I don't know Dad," his father mocked, "I'll tell you what you need to know. I took you away from that vicious whore when she'd done your face in with her bow, and you've never thanked me once, just begged me to buy you a damn cello when you knew that all our money was left in that house." A brute splatter of spit lands on the table as he sneers, "And I did, didn't I? Bought you the damn thing, drove you around with it like some chauffeur. Where's my thanks? Eh, brat? Where's my money?"

The man raises his arm, and a young, blonde waitress appears momentarily by their table, all smiles when she says, "The check, sir?"

"Yes," Suguru's father says, the chair under him screeching as he gets up, "My son will pay."

-

For hours now he'd been contemplating where to go. Who he wanted to see. but when Geto finally gets to your door, his face still flushes with the soft pink of an irredeemable shame while his urgent, stiff knuckles pound on the door. He knew you were home. He wasn't a brute - he texted to check, but he still couldn't calm the restless ache burning in his chest.

When you open the door, there's no hello, just the unyielding feeling of his body flat against yours as he presses sloppy kisses along your jaw, groaning when his teeth graze the tender skin of your neck, "Fuck," his breath fans over you neck as he pants out the words, "you smell sweet."

His face lingers in the crook of your neck, relishing in the warmth like a cold-blooded animal who'd die without the heat. His fingers dig into your thighs so harshly you fear they might bruise them as he lifts you up, "Smell so fucking sweet - " he keeps muttering under his breath as your legs wrap around his waist, your hands clinging to the muscles on his back to keep your balance.

"Suguru," you pant when he drops you on the bed, noticing the unfamiliar ruthless look in his eyes, hardly the same one you saw between your legs a few days ago, "Did something - "

"D'you want to stop and talk?" He chuckles, large, warm hands running across your body to discard your clothes, "Hmm?" He purrs, already confining you under his body, planting soft, teasing kisses on the valley between your breasts.

"N-No," you whimper at the feeling of his teeth against your hardened nipple, and you run a hand through his dark hair to yank him away, while the other hand tugs at his shirt to signal him to fuck, take it off.

He almost doesn't want to break away from your body, not even for the sake of finally feeling your skin rub against his. But he manages to regain his composure long enough to use swift movements to discard his clothes as you watch him, strong and veiny, a body that could be carved in marble if it ever stopped moving with devious intent.

"Suguru," you knew he loved it, the sound of his name coming from your mouth. "Please," you writhe under him, desperate for any kind of touch as he looms over you, holding himself up while deep pants escape his parted lips. He's too far for you to crash your lips against his, no matter how you try. You lift your head from the pillow, and he chuckles at your efforts, pumping his already hard and leaking cock, groaning when he lets the tip brush against your folds.

"So wet already, hmm?" His hand abandons his cock to push a finger inside your cunt, the squelching noises making the blood rush to your head. He's mad with need but can't let your squirming be over so soon, "All for me?"

"Fuck, Sugu - " you cut yourself off to grip his hair, making your lips crash, feeling his tongue swallow your moans as he takes his finger out only to push his cock into you with a deep thrust, "Ah - fuck - " you moaned into his mouth, feeling his tip rub against your sweet spot when he finally bottomed out.

He starts a mean pace, and a hint of pain jolts through you while you adjust to his size, loud moans escaping your lips, "Oh my, ah - God."

"Suguru," he corrects, reaching a hand to adjust your hips, and you moan at the friction against his abdomen, "moan it for me, princess," he groans out against your neck when you pant his name, "louder - fuck - " he pleas, his breath hitches when you clench against him.

He knows he can't hold it much longer, threatening to spill his load at every pant and moan and brush of his lips against your skin, "S- Suguru - " you whine, feeling his fingers draw circles against your clit, digging your nails into his back to leave shallow red scratches along his shoulder blades.

"You close, princess?" He lets out a shaky breath when he feels you clench again, gritting his teeth at the tightness around his cock.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and your eyes shut at the feeling of his messy, erratic thrusts, "Suguru - ," you moan, "Suguru - I - " you pull his head back by the hair.

"Mhmm," he coos, "you what?" he growls, his thrusts feeling almost impossibly deep when the heat pools in your stomach.

"I - I'm - close - " And it's all he needs to hear, locks of black hair falling to brush against your face as he smashes his lips onto yours, savoring the taste of your mouth as your back arches and walls contract around him.

"Good girl," he rasps into your mouth, pounding a few harsh thrusts before his hips stutter. You watch through glazed eyes how muscles tighten as he spills his seed into you with a low groan.

He collapses atop you, pressing his sweat-dampened face against your chest to relish in the sound of the fast, thumping beat of your heart. A few more seconds, and he can measure the tempo.

"Listen," Suguru says, smoking a cigarette out of the open window of your room while he watches you get dressed in the corner, "there's a few things I have to do early tomorrow," his eyes trail out to the street lamps out the window, their blinking lights reflecting on his car outside.

"Suguru," you stand over him, brushing the pads of your fingers against the scratches you left on his back, "did something - "

"Just a few things I have to do," he says, looking around the room for his shirt, "so I'll call you, yeah?"

-

"Uhm, so, did you hear from Su-" You cut yourself off, watching Shoko take a long drag from her smoke with her eyes waiting for you to finish your sentence. "I mean - " you clear your throat, "You know how a guy does something, and then he -" Your face grows red at the memory of Suguru's naked body, "And you think it was nice because you had fun, and then he -"

Shoko watches you babble for a while before saying a confused, "Yes?"

"Suguru didn't call me back," you finally utter. Wasn't it enough for him that I called first?

"Oh," Shoko takes a long drag from her cigarette, "and he needs to call you because..?"

Your face flushes crimson as you bury your face in your hands, "B-Because we fucked and I haven't heard from him since," you mutter through your palms.

Gojo Satoru has a habit of entering places like his presence was eagerly anticipated, swinging the door open with a dramatic expression, "Shoko!" He cuts through the conversation, his height exaggerated by the confines of Shoko's small dorm room as he puts his saxophone on the table, "The key is stuck. I'm going to need you to fix it again -"

"Later," Shoko sounds like a reprimanding mother as she motions toward your sulking face.

Gojo's eyebrows knit together, "Did something happen?"

"Suguru didn't call her after - " Shoko reconsiders her words for a moment, "after they had a nice time together."

"Hmm?" Gojo plops down on the bed in the corner, "Well, he won't call for a while."

You raise your gaze from your palms, tilting your head at the man, "What do you mean?" And your mind races, Oh god. He can't - hate me?

"You didn't hear?" Gojo's smirk fades from his lips, "His mother died last Saturday."

Wait, the same day he came and - ?

You widen your eyes at Shoko, who only shakes her head in response.

"His parents were divorced for quite a while," Gojo continues, "he hasn't seen his mother in over a decade - "

"But she's still his mother," Shoko remarks, huffing a cloud of smoke into the room that lingers stagnant above the table.

Gojo sulks, "I was about to say that. He's been stuck in his room for a week now. My father's pissed."

"Your father?" You puzzle, watching Gojo wipe his sunglasses on the edge of his shirt.

"He was supposed to play the Grand Hall this weekend." And you squint your eyes, waiting for him to continue, "My father pays his tuition for these shows, y'know."

"Your father pays Suguru's tuition?" You repeat.

Gojo chuckles, "Well, I'm not sure for how long, now that Suguru won't even answer his phone. Dad's been planning this grand opening for a year now."

Oh?

"Can't you talk to him?" Shoko was still holding onto the smoking cigarette butt in her hand.

"It's like talking to a - " Gojo cut himself off to knock twice at the white plaster wall beside the bed.

Your muscles tense, and the sound of your own racing pulse deafens your ears.

I should say something. "He's your friend," you croak out.

Gojo's expression changes to a stern one, a terrifying sight on his soft features, "What would have me do? Make him play while he's mourning for his mother? Fight with my father only to have him cut Suguru off anyway?"

You go silent, mulling over his words, but find nothing to say.

Shoko picks up the saxophone from the table, "Which key is broken?" she asks, and there's a hint of defeat in her voice as she waits for Satoru's answer so, at the very least, she can fix something.

-

Suguru had stared at the cello case for days now, hesitant to take the instrument out of its shell. He started staring at it when he took it from his mother's house after the funeral and kept staring at it on the two-hour bus ride and the three-hour train journey, and then, when he leaned it against the wall of his apartment, he still couldn't take his eyes off of it.

It called him. Not in the way you called him - the kind that made his heart flutter when he saw your name pop on his phone screen, which he ignored, simply having no clue as to what to say.

He still ran the imaginary conversations in his head every time you did, letting out sad chuckles into the stale air of his room. How have you been? Oh yes, my mother died, and I'm sitting here with her instrument, which she always loved more than me. Is it nice? Oh, it's more like a successful older brother - you want to hug him just as much as you want to chuck him out the window. Would you like to grab a coffee?

"It's been almost two weeks since you sat there," Geto stands in the little kitchen of his apartment, making a cup of tea he knew would join the others piled up on his bedside table. I'm talking to it now, he thinks, I've finally gone insane. "How about you pay rent?" He chastises the instrument.

For a moment, he thinks it really might pay his rent - for about four years - if he decides to sell it, and keep the money to himself. His hands find themselves opening the case.

He inspects it for a long while, his hands brushing reluctantly over the wood until they find the small scratch in the varnish, the one he'd left there over a decade ago, and he focuses on it. It's small, pale looking, almost too tiny to notice, like the scar on his forehead.

"Maybe it's fair," he mutters at it, "I hurt you, and she hurt me. Balance."

A knock on the door makes his hand falter.

"Suguru," you bang on the door, feeling your leg squash something under it. "Mochi?" you mutter as you pick up a bag from the floor, and the lock clicks.

He looks terrible, you think, with tired eyes and strands sticking out from his usually perfect hair. You hand him the crumpled bag, trying no to smile, "It was just here," you point to the doorway.

"Hmm?" He takes it from your hands, "Satoru's been leaving those here every day. I've got plenty. You can have it if you like."

The air in the room reeks of smoke and coffee grounds, and he steps away, losing your eyes as he moves clothes from a chair to his bed for you to sit on.

"How are you?" you ask.

"Fine," he responds instinctively. Silence. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure." Silence again. A good time to pick up smoking, you think.

Your gaze lands on the cello peaking from its case in the corner. "A new one?" You puzzle as he puts a cup of coffee in front of you.

"My mother's," Geto says, sitting on the chair across from you.

"It's beautiful," you say, and you watch a sullen look settle in his eyes. "Wrong thing to say?" you give him a half-hearted smile, attempting to lift his mood, "Because in that case, it looks terrible."

"I like it when you say the wrong things," He suddenly says, "They don't feel so wrong when you say them."

You take the cup of coffee in your hands, warming your palms against the glass, "You can say them too sometimes, y'know."

He takes a sip from his coffee, only to find he can't stand the taste anymore, wrinkling his nose, "I hate that thing. I've been contemplating whether to sell it or just throw it out the window."

"And what's the verdict?"

"Play it," he says.

"Then play it."

He gets up, pushing the chair back to the middle of the room as he walks to take the instrument out of its case. You're almost startled by how stiff he looks leaning it between his legs, a hold so tight on the bow his knuckles turn white.

He puts the bow to the strings with a feather-light stroke, and halts.

He looks scared of it.

Is that what stage fright feels like? He thinks as he watches you lean forward against the table, eyes honed on his hands.

"You just need to play it, y'know? Like children do, just wiggle the bow a few times." You say.

Like children do. "It'll be dissonant," Geto utters sternly, releasing his grip on the bow.

"That's how they laugh," your lips curl into a soft smile, "That's what my father used to tell me when he heard the horrible screeches I made on his violin when he first gave it to me, 'Don't worry, that's how they laugh.'"

His chest tightened at the words, and he forced the bow onto the strings, making a loud, off-key tone penetrate the room.

It's the first time you've heard him make a mistake, and it made every nerve in your system tingle. Your head went euphorically dizzy. This is much better.

He almost stopped at your wide-eyed look, but you just laughed, "Oh, please, you call that dissonant?" And you watch him push the bow onto the strings again, brows furrowed at the terrible sounds, but his movements unwavering.

It's fine to play it like this, he thinks, as long as it's accompanied by your laughter.

"Suguru," you utter, and he lifts his gaze from the instrument, "Will you play the Grand Hall tonight?"

He ponders for a moment, "I think I will."

"Then you better answer your phone," you motion towards the buzzing cell phone on the counter, "and take a shower," you laugh.

He looks down on his disheveled clothes, "That bad, huh?" He chuckles.

"Just a little."

You hear the shower water running as you fiddle with your phone, still dazed at what just happened. You press the contact and dial.

"Hey, Dad?" You chirp into the cell phone, "Are you still coming to the Grand Hall opening tonight?"

-

The new Grand Hall is a sea of white marble floors and golden framed artworks, crowded by black-suited CEOs and their overly lavish trophy wives.

Geto sits on the lone stool in the middle of the stage, watching them all take their seats, still busy exchanging pleasantries with each other while they wait for the show to start. His eyes drift constantly to the stage exit, where you stand with Gojo, smiling softly, mouthing, "Don't worry," at his stiff figure.

His mother's cello is still unfamiliar to the touch, a beast different than the one he owns which he had already spent years taming.

People fill the seats like ants, and the lights dim above his head. The pianist behind him is a weak-looking man, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his thin nose before giving Geto the cue to start.

The first stroke of the bow is a hesitant one across the strings that once earned him a blow to the head, but the second one has more vigor, and his eyes, half-lidded still, find your smiling face again to soothe his nerves. His bow falters; he didn't have time to change the rusty strings; what would Elgar* say?

And you can't help but smile at each terrible pitch echoing around you; each horribly dissonant tone is more beautiful than the next to your ears.

The sounds are low and deep, growling against the marble hall. He almost has it - the feeling - the one that'd let him stop quivering in his seat. His bow jitters. He never knew he could make so many mistakes in a piece that he played hundreds of times, but with your smile at the corner of his eyes, he feels it creep up his fingertips, rushing through his chest - joy.

"My son!" The doors to the concert hall bust open with a bang; it overpowers the soothing sounds of his cello and the melody of the piano, "He's my fucking son. Let me see him!" Suguru's father stumbles drunkenly into the hall, two dark-suited men at his heels.

The hall washes over with whispers, women pressing their carefully manicured hands to their painted mouths in awe while their husbands are already halfway out of their seats with a proud "I'll take care of the bastard, honey" stuck on their lips.

"Fuck off, pig." Suguru's father spews at the guard trying to drag him away, "He owes it all to me, the brat. Play for our guests, Suguru! " He turns to the crowd, "Enjoying the show, money-rolling cunts?"

Suguru stiffens, his eyes two dull, widened orbs staring at the scene as he stops his playing, ignoring the piano player's whispers to just play, kid.

Gojo rushes to the man screaming in the hall, "Mr. Geto, long time no see," he says, one hand gripping him by the edge of his booze-soaked shirt, the other wrapping around the man's neck in an almost affable way, "How about you see your son after the show?" A smile is frozen on his soft lips, his blue eyes staring daggers at the man, "Now be nice, or they'll tase you," he breathes down the man's ear, motioning to the guards whose fingers are already clutching the tasers.

"Fucking bastard," Geto's father mutters at the white-haired man, "Money-rolling cunts," he slurs all the way out of the doors. They close with a soft thud, leaving the hall in a dead silence.

a/n - * - Edward Elgar, Cello Concerto in E minor, Op.85

-

12 years ago

"You hear that?" Your father stood over you in the rehearsal room of the conservatory, his arms crossed over his chest as he paced back and forth, "That's how they laugh. Every time you make a mistake, they laugh at you, girl."

Your eyes were red as you stopped your playing, "L-Laugh?"

"Instruments make that sound so they can mock you," your father explained, correcting your grip on the bow, "and you have to do everything so they don't do that."

Every day, he'd drive you up to the conservatory and stand over you in that room for hours on end, brows knitted together at each whine the violin screeched out. And when it was finally over, he'd walk you down the long white corridor to the room at the end, where a small, dark-haired boy would play his cello.

"See that, girl?" He'd point through the crack in the door, "Perfection."

Perhaps that was when you started to despise Geto Suguru. Over the years, the feeling only grew, but it hadn't peaked before his smug smile sat next to you in a jazz club, finally uttering the first words he ever directed at you, "Geto Suguru, have we met before?"

And it felt strange because you had - or at least you thought you had, over a decade ago. Not that he'd know that you watched him play almost every day through that time, with the scrutinizing words your father whispered above your head, "Look. Really look," your father held your head steady with his fingers digging into your scalp, "It doesn't laugh at him, see?"

And you did see. And you wished that it laughed at him, too. Why were you the only one supposed to be laughed at?

You didn't mean to at first, really. Something about him just ticked it off, the urge for revenge. How dare he hate his instrument and play it so well, when you loved the violin and it betrayed you with every stroke?

You didn't mind the sex; he was still a handsome man. It made him trust you - and as long as you made him make a mistake - every laugh, every encouraging smile, every word, was worth it.

-

"Fucking bastard," Geto's father mutters at the white-haired man, "Money-rolling cunts," he slurs all the way out of the doors. They close with a soft thud, leaving the hall in a dead silence.

Suguru looks for them - your eyes, and that smile that seems to perpetually grace your lips - but when his eyes finally land on you, he finds it gone. You mouth something he doesn't quite catch before disappearing from the stage exit. He can't do it; he can't play anymore. His hand freezes against the strings.

You finally made a fool of yourself, Suguru.

You wait outside the Grand Hall doors, body shivering with anticipation when the crowd finally starts to leave the hall.

"Dad!" You shout when you see him, making your way through the people, heels clacking against the marble until you grab your father's arm, "Dad! It was horrible, wasn't it?"

"Hmm? Who'd you come with dear?" Your father inquires.

"Leave it, Dad. He was horrible, right?"

He looks at you a long time before saying, "It's a shame for that boy, the beginning was perfect."

-

10 years later

When he's conducting, anyone would agree that Suguru Geto is breathtaking. The moment he dropped playing the cello ten years prior, every one of his admirers had almost lost hope - that is, until he picked up the baton. A true genius, they'd say, forgetting his last horrible performance, which graced the headlines for a long time after he ditched it in the middle, and how he disappeared for the next two years after it. Lonley? Gods no, he's a busy man, or perhaps struggling with all his greatness to find a mind akin to his own.

But only the small orchestra that played under him knew that all these words were just flattery - he was cold and unforgiving of any and all mistakes, and he really, truly despised the violinists.

Or he did, until the new violinist ran late to the first rehearsal of the year.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto smut #geto x reader smut #geto x reader angst #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #getou suguru x y/n #getou x reader #getou suguru x you #getou smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you

[eightyonekilograms]

I went to the Apple Store yesterday to try the scripted demo of their VR headset. My overall impression is that it's the best possible execution of what might be a fundamentally flawed idea.

The passthrough video is pretty incredible. It's somewhat dimmer than reality, and the color accuracy is just OK, but it's more than good enough to feel like you're looking through clear displays at the real world. I'm told the passthrough on the Quest 3 is even better, but haven't tried that and can't comment. One thing is that there is a weird motion blur effect when you turn your head, I'm not sure if that's a display tech limitation or introduced deliberately by the software as a workaround for a different display tech limitation.

The resolution is 4K per eye, which, as mentioned, is more than enough for a powerful sense of presence in the real world. One of the nifty bits of the demo was when you turn the dial to tune out the world and suddenly you're sitting by a mountain lake, and the feeling of actually being there is overwhelming. The dystopian implications of needing a VR headset to sit at a mountain lake aside, it would be cool to have one just to have your office be anywhere you can imagine. Not $3500-before-tax cool, but cool.

Wow sports leagues are going to love this thing. I don't give a shit about sports and even I was thinking, "If the NBA put a stereoscopic camera courtside and sold you games for $50 a pop, I'd absolutely buy that"

But 4K per eye is not enough to do work, not even close. The experience of using normal computer-y applications on this was not unlike plugging your laptop in to a TV that's at the normal TV distance. You can do it, it works, but it's not anyone's preferred way of working. Text is amazingly legible, but only at sizes that are equivalent to having a single webpage take up your entire 4K monitor at normal monitor distance.

It is not particularly comfortable. Part of this might be that the store demo makes you use the "catcher's mitt" strap, which only goes around the back of your head and so gravity has to be countered only by the pressure of the thing against your face. Reviewers have said that if you use the other band that goes over your head the situation is better, but still.

A lot of early comments were making fun of Apple for having the battery be an external thing you put in your pocket and attach with a wire, but I think that's just fine: we all walk around with giant batteries in our pockets anyway, and anything you can do to have less weight on your head is a Good Thing. But then Apple took all those weight savings and spent them on making the stupid thing out of metal and glass instead of polycarbonate. It's nuts! It's like if you made a car that was 500kg lighter because you invented magical tech for keeping the engine somewhere else, and then went "great! with all the weight savings now we can build the body out of lead". Apple, you don't need to fear plastic. Plastic is good! Plastic built modern civilization.

You control it with a combination of eye tracking and pinch gestures. This is the main piece of evidence of my "best version of a bad idea" thesis: it works really, really well; so well that I can tell this is probably an evolutionary dead end. It's just fine— miraculous, even— for dragging windows around and doing the basic stuff the in-store demo has you do. It's amazing that you can more or less have your hands anywhere, including on your lap, and the recognition works perfectly (by contrast with the HoloLens I tried 5 or so years ago where the gesture recognition was total crap). But it's immediately obvious that you can never do serious manipulation of your computing environment with this.

The takeaway is that it's incredible for passive consumption of specifically-made media, assuming that ever exists at scale. But it will be a long time before we're gogged in like Hiro Protagonist to do our office jobs this way.

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck • Part 5

Meddlingpunkitis

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Benji shot up from bed first thing in the morning, excited to see your first reaction after setting up his movie night.

He sat at the kitchen table waiting. You eventually walk in to grab a drink from the fridge and then walk back out as if it was a regular morning. Why did he only get a passing noogie?

Benji quickly looks over at his dad sitting next to him, "Aren't people in love supposed to be like, floating and all dopey looking??"

Theo finishes a sip of his coffee, "Not necessarily. If you're talking about your aunt, I've never seen her, as you describe, 'dopey in love.' Also, it is 6 in the morning. It's a miracle she's even awake right now. If you see her looking happy and 'floating' at 6am, I think we have a body snatching case to worry about instead."

Benji let's out an annoyed grunt as he scoops up the last of his eggs into his mouth and storms out of the kitchen.

Theo shrugs to himself, taking another sip of coffee while scrolling through emails on his laptop.

"That should be promising," he mutters to himself.

Benji stops in your doorway, "Are you and Bucky official yet?"

"Official...ly human? I'd say 90-99% for sure. Verdict is still out."

"Is he your boyfriend now?" He clarifies with a huff.

You shrug while sipping your drink, looking through your closet for today's outfit.

"You're the most frustrating person alive," he stomps off.

-----

Strolling through the aisles, you and Benji were out on a shopping trip after you picked him up from school to pick out decorations for the upcoming holiday season and your annual Christmas party.

Benji riding at the front of the cart, his feet on the basket underneath and hands holding onto the front while pointing which direction you should steer and which aisles to stop at next.

"Sorry dude, 6 bags of family size sour patch kids didn't make the budget cut." You stop him as his arms reach out to grab as many as they can hold.

"How about 4?"

"You can grab one," you hold up a finger, "of the smaller sharable sizes, final answer."

"Fiiiine," he tosses the smaller bag into the cart, "What about peanut slim shady's?"

"Alright, one bag of peanut slim shady's too," you agree.

You told him when he was around 4 years old that M&M's were called Slim Shady's because the rapper Eminem invented them. None of you have had the heart to correct him or teach him otherwise as he got older and you hope he never stops calling them Slim Shady's.

The look on his little face when you had joined in taking him trick or treating shortly after that...

Benji gleefully skips over to you in his little werewolf costume while shouting, "Looks! I got slim shady's!" Holding the tiny packet of candy up to you, waving it over his head.

"The real slim shady's?!" You asked in reply, trying to keep a straight face.

He nodded back enthusiastically.

"We need to grab some new string lights since we used some for the movie room. Maybe a new tree topper too.." you listed off.

"No! We can't replace tree monster!"

"I thought you hated tree monster?"

"It's a part of the tradition now!"

"Okay, okay. Tree monster rides again another year then. How about a new tree skirt? Does the Christmas Tradition Committee agree with that?"

"Mm…. Yeah, that should be fine."

"Your mom texted with a reminder to grab more garlands for the stairs banister," you read aloud while looking at your phone.

You texted Bucky earlier before you left on your shopping adventure with a quick hello to check in with him and see how his day was going, sharing that you were picking Benji up from school.

You notice a reply from him that says,

'Stuck with Samuel today 🙄'

"Look at this pillow! It looks like a dinosaur chicken nugget!" Benji lifts the pillow up to your face.

"It's the most beautiful chicken nugget pillow I've ever seen."

"We should get it for Monty! Do you think they have french fries too???"

"If that's what you would like to get him, sure. Add it to the cart, bud."

"Yessss!" He cheers as he hops back onto the cart while singing a made up song about chicken nuggets.

Turning the corner to leave the aisle you slow down so you don't push Benji and the cart into anyone. Benji looks around the corner for you, "Clear!"

"Thank you, co-pilot."

You make your way over to the Christmas decorations finally.

"How about this ornament?" Benji asks with a wide grin while holding up a large ornament that says "Just Married" on the back of a car window.

"You're hilarious. Hold on while I search for an 'in memoriam' option," you playfully glare down at him.

"She likes it," he smirks to himself as he skips down the aisle.

"Hey, get back over here. Put that back, you gremlin!"

He giggles and turns out of the aisle.

"Benji, you know better than to leave out of my eyesi-"

"NO WAYYY! AHHHHH!" You hear Benji shout from the next aisle.

You ditch the cart and take off after him assuming the worst from his shouting.

You stop short when you turn the corner and see what the shouting was about.

"LOOK AUNT Y/N!"

"Heyyy Aunt Y/n," Sam grins while holding onto Benji who jumped up in an attack hug.

You breathe a sigh of relief, "Oh hey, Sam! Glad to see you here and not some stranger dragging this one screaming out of the store," you greet back with a relieved smile, "Benj you can't run off and start shouting like that. Can you give Sam his personal space back now please? Thank yooou."

Benji hops down, "Are you shopping for decorations too??" He asks excitedly.

"We were just-"

Benji let's out an exceptionally loud gasp as he looks ahead down the main aisle, "Future. Uncle. Buckyyy!!!" He takes off running again across the store.

Bucky's eyes widen as he spins around. He catches the projectile 8-year-old leaping at him with his right arm, while the left holds his shopping basket with items he was carrying.

Benji releases his arms from his death grip hug and cups his hands on both sides of Bucky's face, squeezing his cheeks till his mouth puckers.

"I'm so happy to see you!!!"

"M ha-py t' see y'too," Bucky muffles back. "What do you have there?" He asks once his face is released, nodding at the ornament Benji is still clutching between his fingers.

"If I show you, Aunt Y/n is going to make me sleep outside in a tent for a week."

"Is that so?" He looks over at you with an eyebrow raised while lowering Benji back to the ground.

"For the record, I never said that," you hold your hands up in defense, "but I wouldn't rule that option out completely," you shrug while walking over quickly and snatching the ornament, crossing your arms so it's tucked under and unseen.

Another awkward encounter to add to the tally.

"We're shopping for decorations," Benji grins while Bucky places his basket down next to him. "We have a Christmas party coming up! You'll come, right??"

Bucky is bent down at eye level with Benji, "Well, I'm not sure -"

"It's the Saturday the week before Christmas!" Benji starts rattling off the date and time of the party, listing who is expected to be there.

Bucky looks over at you, his eyebrows raised.

You shrug again, "Don't look at me, it's his world, we're just living in it. But yes, you're absolutely invited if you don't already have any plans. You too, Sam." You smile at them.

"Would it be rude if I bring a plus three? My sister and nephews are visiting," Sam asks.

"Are they Benji's age? We'd love to have them join too."

Benji pumps his fists, cheering to himself. "Yesss!" He skips ahead pulling Sam along, directing him towards the next few aisles while firing away questions about his nephews.

Bucky stands up and leans against the nearest end cap with a smirk on his face.

"Hi," his eyes narrow in suspicion as he quickly looks over at your crossed arms, "Are you really not going to show me whatever it is you're hiding?"

"Absolutely fucking not, thank you so much for asking."

He laughs at your answer while you try to think what to do next. "Fancy meeting you here though. What did Sam do to convince you to go shopping?"

"Oh, you know, good ol' fashion lies and deception."

"Ah, yes. Of course," you step closer, "The promise of food and future solitude to lure you out? And then the classic 'gotta make a quick pitstop' announcement halfway?"

He snaps his fingers and points your way, "That's the one."

You grin and hold your arms out in an invitation for a hug, making sure the ornament is tucked into your hand and sleeve. His smile softens when you step closer again and he accepts your hug.

"Happens to the best of us," you answer while trying to play it cool. With your arms around him, you give a slight squeeze that he returns. Reaching out your right arm very slowly to try and tuck the ornament on the shelf behind him discreetly. Your plan was to hide the ornament behind the larger items on the shelf behind him. Nothing gets by the super soldier though. As he goes to turn his head to see what you're up to, you have to think fast on a distraction and quickly leave a peck on his cheek that was now in front of you.

His eyes widen slightly as his head swivels back over at you and then narrow in suspicion. You finally drop the ornament as quietly and quickly as you can. He goes to turn again, this time lifting you off the ground and turning both of you for him to better see. Grabbing his face with both your hands now you continue to plant quick kisses all over.

"Is it that bad?!" He laughs, beaming over at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm also just so happy to see you," you feign innocence while trying to pull away. He squeezes you closer while tickling at your sides. You break into laughter as you continue to try and break free.

Sam and Benji both poke their heads around the aisle and smirk at each other, sharing in a discreet high five, before ducking back into the aisle out of sight.

Ornament now forgotten, Bucky doesn't take his eyes off you as you both smile warmly at each other. He quickly lifts you again and starts walking you both towards the direction the other two went. Pausing quickly he leans in with a smirk and gives you a quick kiss before continuing to shuffle the both of you forward.

You send a warning text off to Bucky the morning of the Christmas party:

'hi... just a quick heads up for tonight (and I mean that warning literally...) Benji has covered the house in mistletoe. Latest scheme seems to be getting us under all of them at some point. How would you like to proceed?'

'10 - 4. Do we get to mess with him?'

'Absolutely. 🫡 See ya tonight, friend.'

'Later, pal 🙄'

-----

Walking into the living room carrying a plate of snacks, a knock on the door grabs your attention and you hurry over to open it. Opening the door with one hand, while still balancing the snacks in the other. You spot the giant kissing ball hanging above the porch and roll your eyes.

Bucky and the Wilson's arrive at the same time as one of Theos's coworkers. You quickly greet them and usher them all through the door.

"Daaang, look at you. Your hair is so long," Sam comments walking in.

"Don't get used to this. I do not have the patience for this. Prudence insisted on straightening and styling it for me."

"Noted," he chuckles, "Did you add more colors, or were these always there and hidden in the curls?"

"I added more in. Benji used to tell his friends at school I was part My Little Pony."

"You had a pony..? I think I'm missing a reference," Bucky asks.

"It was a popular set of toys and an animated show called My Little Pony. It was colorful ponies with bright colored hair."

"Right...of course..."

This gets a small laugh from you as you place the snack tray on one of the many tables set up.

"YOU CAME!" Benji shouts running into the room.

Greetings and introductions made, Nora rushes over to say her own hellos and takes the Wilson's to meet the other kids that have arrived so far. Benji looks up at you expectantly. There's another sprig hanging above nearby, you just have to take 4 or 5 steps closer towards Bucky.

You stare back at Benji, not moving from your spot. "What are you lookin' at?"

He huffs and goes to catch up with Nora.

You move closer and kiss Bucky on the cheek, "This should be fun." Nodding your head up, "Quick recap, I've counted 6 so far. Best placed one is over by that bookcase," you tilt your head towards it, "He angled it juuust right so you don't notice it until you directly stand in that corner there."

"I don't know, you look very beautiful all dolled up. Might not be able to stick to this plan."

"You clean up pretty well yourself, but I'm not letting him win. Sorry." You pat his shoulder as Prudence and Monty steal Bucky away and you finish setting the last of the snacks and napkins out.

The front door opens as more people arrive.

Included in the latest arrivals is your neighbor Frank who walks in with his niece.

Benji walks by Bucky nodding his head "discreetly" towards the door and mouths, "Frank." He then mimes sticking his finger in his mouth and gagging while he continues to scramble away and stand near Nora once again.

-----

You're chatting with Sarah on the couch. Benji walks up and throws himself dramatically across your lap. "Hi, are you going to sit here all night?" He asks.

"Maybe, what's it to you?"

"Can we make gingerbread houses?"

"Prudence already set everything up on the kitchen counter, knock yourself out."

"But I need adult supervision."

"For what? To stop you from eating frosting? There's no tools involved."

"Moral support and guidance in knowing I'm doing something right. What if I put up 5 walls by accident?"

"Then I'd be very impressed from afar at your architectural brilliance."

He groans and rolls off your lap, walking away.

"The drama," you roll your eyes, "Do you think Aj and Cass would like to join him? We have plenty of kits."

"I'm sure they'd love that. I'll go ask them, thank you so much."

-----

You were now standing no more than three feet from the kitchen entry that had a bundle of mistletoe hanging above it. Sam and Nora standing to the left of you, the kitchen entry to your right. A table is behind you with a bowl of family friendly egg nog set up on it. Frank approaches you and the table. You greet eachother with friendly hellos and you introduce him to Sam. As they shake hands you take a few steps back to move out of the way of the table, offering Frank an empty cup.

In taking those steps back you were now dangerously close to the mistletoe-trapped entry with Frank still next to you. As you're asking how his niece is doing, you feel something hit the back of your head. Nora tries to discreetly cover her mouth to shield her reaction.

Your hand flies up to brush through your hair as you look at the ground. At your feet you see a gumdrop and a small gingerbread chunk laying there. You whip your head up and glare into the kitchen.

Benji's hands fly up in fake surrender, "It slipped! I told you I need adult supervision! These gingerbread pieces are crazy!"

The group of kids giggle as they pause their decorating to watch.

"Oh, I'll show you something crazy," you step into the kitchen and Benji takes off, ducking around you to escape. He slips in front of Theo and his co-workers playing it up like he was intently listening to their conversation, as if he had been there the whole time fake nodding along.

"Stop terrorizing your aunt," Theo says without even needing to assess the situation.

Benji clutches his chest, "I would never."

Bucky smirks into his drink as he watches from across the room. Quickly returning his attention to Monty and Prudence next to him.

Benji eventually sneaks his way back into the kitchen when all eyes and attention were finally off him.

-----

A couple times now you have taken turns in frustrating Benji to no end.

You're currently standing innocently under one of the many mistletoe, taking a sip from your glass in hand. You could see Benji in the corner of your peripheral trying to hide under a table. Bucky then walks by slowly. Benji's hands clench into anxious little fists in front of him, his small head poking up from the table ever so slightly. You and Bucky exchange a quick passing pleasantry to each other as he continues to walk by without stopping. Benji drops his head to the floor, groaning in frustration.

You smirk into your drink as you take another sip.

Nora and Theo have taken a different approach for the night and keep purposefully stepping under every mistletoe near Benji and giving each other exaggerated loud kisses. "Ugh, gross. Will you two stop it!" He crawls out from under the table and takes off across the room.

-----

"Hey, Y/n? Question for you..." You and Bucky both walk over to Sam who was standing by your decorated tree, "What am I looking at here?" He points to the top of the tree.

Bucky squints at the tree, his head tilting in confusion.

"That's tree monster..." You answer with a shrug.

"Tree what now?"

"We didn't have an official topper for our tree. Every year we'd just use a random toy up there. Benji came home from kindergarten one day with this masterpiece. I don't know what toy it used to be, but he sure did a number on it. And then I jokingly stuck wings to it thinking 'surely this will make us rethink this situation and get something else' but I was very mistaken. Theo added some googly eyes. Nora added the halo and reinforced it a bit...It's a complete abomination but we love him."

"It's deeply unsettling to look at, but I'm happy you have expressed your creative side as a family."

"I disagree," Bucky answers, "I think every store should have one, so that all families can enjoy having such a creative nightmare on their trees as well."

"Aww, thanks Bucky. I'm sure we could whip something up for you!" You joke.

"Ya know, I don't have a tree. So, darn...won't be needing one. Thanks for the offer."

"You don't have a tree??"

"A crypt has more decorations than this man's home. His place looks like someone moved out yesterday and left behind what they couldn't fit in the U-Haul."

"Thank you, Samuel."

-----

Your cousin Andrew arrives fashionably late with his wife Elyse and their 6 year old daughter Phoebe.

Phoebe squeals and runs up to Benji, throwing her adorable pudgey arms around him in a tight hug. His arms still at his sides while she squeezes tight, giggling with tiny glee. Benji always pretends to be annoyed but you all know he loves the attention. He pulls one of his arms free, patting her on the top of her head. "Hello, Phoebe. I'm glad you're here, I have a mission for you."

"Me??" She grins up at him while jumping up slightly.

"Ohh yeah, definitely you," he guides her across the room away from the adults.

"Andy!" You greet him with a hug when he walks up to you with Elyse, "Where's my Phoebs?" You look around his legs.

"She's -" he looks down and around the room, "She's in the building, she walked in before me. She saw Benji and took off with him."

"That can't be good," you laugh and introduce Andy and Elyse to Bucky, Sam, and Sarah.

During your conversation Bucky suddenly catches his balance and looks down as he feels a small body crash into him and wrap their arms around his legs.

Bright hazel eyes with a Cheshire smile beam up at him, the large grin showcasing her missing front bottom tooth.

"Hello there," Bucky laughs, greeting his new small friend.

"Hi, Uncle Bucky!" she giggles while Bucky's eyes widen.

"Oh no, it's contagious. Meddlingpunkitis has spread to the next youngest," you gasp dramatically while bending down to scoop up the giggling little blonde, "What will we dooooo?!" You cry out, "Not my little Phoebe!" You bend over again with her in your arms, hanging her upside down while tickling into her sides.

She giggles and squirms, trying to escape.

-----

Benji walks up with his gingerbread creation in hand on a platter. "Ta-daaaa," he sings, holding it up to you.

"Wow! Great job, Mr. I Need Supervision. Is that...?"

Benji rotates the plate so the front is now in better view. "It's a chapel!" He grins.

"That better be Mr. and Mrs. Claus..."

Closer inspection revealed one gingerbread figure with a black and yellow frosting lined arm and a bowtie, the other decorated with multi color frosting hair in a white outline "dress".

”You're exhausting, you know that? One part of me is really proud of you, because you did an amazing job on this. The other part really wants to smother you....with love of course," you give him a side eye, "Go put that back in the kitchen and never speak of this again."

Benji grins as he turns and retreats back towards the kitchen area, sneaking in a quick detour to show Sam his handywork. Sam immediately pulls his phone out to snap a quick picture of Benji holding it up to the camera with a grin.

-----

"I have an idea but it might be a tiny bit of a gamble and slightly outrageous.." you whisper to Bucky as you finally reunite in the same area.

Nora had just finished forcing everybody to gather around to take a series of group photos.

You've successfully dodged all the mistletoe encounters so far.

"How outrageous are we talking? I'm not kissing Sam."

"Oh come on, I wasn't asking that - unless-" you hold up your fingers to your chin in thought.

"No." He points a quick finger towards you.

"Okay, okaay. Fine."

You lean in closer and fill him in on your next plan.

"...you want me to kiss your neighbor?"

"Obviously the objective here is to avoid you actually needing to kiss her, but it's a sacrifice for the greater good here if it's unavoidable, Buck. Or we could go back to your Sam plan," you smile as sweetly as you can over at him.

"Y'know, at first I didn't recognize it, but now I definitely see that same evil little twinkle that's usually in Benji's eyes, and let me tell you," he leans closer, bending slightly to reach your height and points at your eyes, "It's absolutely genetic. You should see yourself right now."

"You think my eyes twinkle?" you grin up at him.

"Y/n," he sighs but starts to laugh.

"Pleeeease," you unleash the pout.

"That," he points at you again, "is even worse. You're serious?"

"Aren't you like, trained in stealth? You can do it!"

"Thank you so much for the pep talk, but I still don't understand why you want me to kiss your neighbor."

"You are so hung up on that tiny detail! I can assure you, it will not get that far. I had baked goods and candy launched at my head when I got too close earlier, I can't even begin to imagine what stunt will happen if you get close enough. He's probably gonna lower himself down from the ceiling somehow like something out of Mission Impossible. Oooor, if you don't wanna kiss Sam, I'll just gooo--" you start to step away but a hand shoots out and stops you, pulling you back to your original spot.

He glares over at you, "Not funny."

"A little funny?" You squint while pinching your fingers.

"Unbelievable," he places a quick kiss to your temple and releases your arm as he storms off towards the next target area.

"Go get 'em, tiger!" You call after him, just loud enough so only he's the one to hear you.

"It's white wolf," he mutters back.

"For real?"

Bucky starts to approach your neighbor who is standing under one of the many mistlebombs hanging around, this one strung up above a popular gathering area of the living room.

Before he can get within 3ft of dear sweet unsuspecting Sylvia, yelling erupts in the room with a chorus of AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!s. Suddenly 3 small bodies take down the super soldier. Benji leading the charge grabs onto an arm and attempts to climb up Bucky's back while Sarah's boys both tackle a leg of their own, making sure to get him at the back of the knees in their takedown.

Your eyes widen as you watch the group of them land in a heap on the floor.

You hold your breath waiting to see if you should run over and check on them but let out a relieved sigh when Bucky gives a dramatic roar and starts play fighting back with them while sitting up. The boys giggling and continuing their shouting and attack.

"Tiny savages," you shake your head.

"Should we help?" Nora asks walking up to you.

"Nah, I'm sure they're fine," as soon as the words are out of your mouth, sweet little Phoebe, not wanting to be left out of the excitement, joins in and hops onto Bucky's back, throwing her little arms around his neck.

"Oh shit. Hey, White Wolf? Ya good?" You hold your thumb up and then down.

You see a vibranium thumb pop up.

"See? He's got this."

-----

It was starting to get late. Most of the guests have already left. You're finishing up clearing off some of the tables with help from Bucky.

"You're our guest, you're not supposed to be doing clean up labor."

He shrugs, "I don't mind."

"Where'd you get the bracelet?" You laugh noticing the multi color beads circling his wrist.

"Phoebe gave it to me on their way out," he twists his wrist so the rest of it is in view.

"So stylish," you compliment while stacking some plates together.

Sam walks up with a tired AJ carried on his back.

"Y/n, as always, it's been a pleasure. Thank you so much for inviting all of us."

Sarah walks up carrying Cass who is already knocked out.

"Of course!" You pull him in for a hug, "Thank you so much for coming. It was an absolute pleasure having you all with us. Bye AJ, it was nice meeting you," you reach up to give him a fist bump that he sleepily returns.

"I hope you all can visit again soon," you pull Sarah in for a hug next and run your hand along sleeping Cass' back, "Merry Christmas!"

"Do you guys need any help?" Bucky asks while passing Sarah her bag and another bag filled with cookies the boys decorated.

"Nope, we're good. Theo is grabbing a taxi for us. You coming with?"

Bucky looks at his watch and nods with a shrug, "Probably a good idea."

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night," Sam waves while walking off towards the door.

"Wait!" Benji rushes down the stairs with two red envelopes.

"For you," he hands one over to Sam, "Merry Christmas!" He jumps up for a high five.

"Is this my wedding invitation finally?" Sam holds the envelope up to the light.

You give him a push towards the door, "It's a Christmas card. Get out of here."

"Sure, sure. See you at the wedding!" He smirks while stepping outside.

You shake your head and start to follow them out.

"Cab should be here in 5," Theo announces by the doorway before going back inside.

You step out onto the porch and give the Wilson's a final wave while they wait by the curb, checking out the neighbors light displays and decorations.

The large kissing ball with multiple mistletoe jammed in there hangs above you, dangling from the short roof over the porch.

Benji hops out onto the porch with Bucky following behind, pulling his leather jacket on.

"For you!" Benji hands the last envelope to Bucky, "Merrryyy Christmas!" He wraps his arms around Bucky's waist.

"Merry Christmas, bud. Thanks for the card."

Benji stares at him expectantly and then looks over at you.

"Am..I.. supposed to open it now??" Bucky asks.

Benji shrugs, still staring you both down, "You don't have to."

You scratch at your neck and try to discreetly point up, signaling to Bucky why the stare down was happening. His eyes follow up and you see him realize what's going on.

"Ok, I'll save it for later then. See ya," Bucky holds his hand up for a high five to Benji, who gladly winds back his arm to give the strongest high five he could.

Benji quickly realizes standing right there isn't going to get him the results he wants and he starts walking slowly back inside, "See ya, F.U.B.!"

Bucky's eyebrows scrunch while looking at you.

"I'm assuming that's Future Uncle Bucky," you sigh and answer for him.

"Ah," he grins, "Thanks again for having us, pal."

"You're very welcome, friend. One more fake out for the road?"

Bucky leans in close, you both tilt your heads, he slowly lifts his hand.. and pretends to pluck an eyelash off your cheek.

"Got it," Bucky jokes while pulling back, pretending to blow the lash off his finger.

"OH MY GOD! WILL YOU JUST KISS ALREADY?!" Benji throws his arms up in exasperation, closing the front door with a loud thump behind him.

You both try to hold in your laughter and keep a straight face, but Sam's laughter echos loud and clear. You peak over and see Benji ducking down from the window.

Keeping your platonic facade going, you both give an exaggerated firm hand shake. You can feel the intense laser focus stare coming at you from the windows again.

"Goodnight, ol' chum. Let me know when you get home safe, please."

He gives you a salute and you go to turn the doorknob but nothing happens. You shake it and push against the door.

"Locked you out?"

"Yuuup," you pull your phone out and pull up your bank app. Nodding to yourself, "Yup, okay. Bucky, break the window."

"..What?"

"Break the window," you point to the pane of glass, more specifically the one you know the watch guard was staring out of behind the sheer curtain.

"What??"

"I'm going to pay for it, come on."

He stares at you like you've grown an extra head.

"Fine, we can use the spare key if you wanna be all boring about it. I'm going to need a boost," you step closer to the edge of the porch, looking up at the roof covering the porch.

"A boost?"

"What? You think we keep our spare key under the mat like a bunch of fools?"

"Or, hear me out..." He reasons, "You call Nora and you can use the door without the need to scale your roof or smash in a window."

"Booo," you pout up at him.

"There is another option..." he steps closer.

"I'm listening..."

He gives a subtle nod to the door where no doubt you can still feel a pair of eyes burning into your head through the window.

"Aw man, but then the tiny tyrant will win."

"Does it still count if you kiss this guy?" He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a Ziploc bag, holding up the "Bucky" gingerbread man Benji decorated.

"Oh my god," you laugh and swat the cookie away from your face.

"Fine, I'll put him back with the missus," he lifts up another Ziploc bag high enough so you can see the colorful "hair" frosting peak out of the pocket signalling he also has your gingerbread person in there and tucks both back into the pocket.

"Unbelievable, do you have the building in there too?"

He grabs your right hand and pulls you in closer, wrapping your arm around his neck. "Nah, left that for the next confectionery nuptials."

You shake your head with a laugh and bring your other arm around his neck.

"Thanks for dealing with us, once again," you smile up at him.

"Phoebe was a nice addition this time. Do you get to see her often?"

"Just the occasional family gathering and birthdays. Definitely not often enough. I'm sure Andy would be more than willing to pawn her off for a night or two if asked. She's just as mischievous as Benji though. Her mischief is more animal based. Her teachers call her a Disney princess because she tries to befriend every animal she sees. She also tries luring many squirrels and wild life into their house."

"Yikes," he laughs.

"Ride's here, Buck!" Sam announces while helping Sarah and the boys get in.

He gently grabs your waist with his vibranium hand and brings his right hand up your neck, moving to cradle the back of your head. You see a bright flash of light come from the window and before you can investigate further Bucky quickly dips you backwards while giving you a sweet and tender kiss. Your grip tightens around him, giggling in surprise.

"I want a copy of that," Bucky points towards the door when he lifts you back up.

"Copy of what?" You ask, a little dazed still.

Benji cracks open the door with Nora's camera in hand, "We have a ring doorbell too. I'll send the video link with it."

"Excellent, thanks. Goodnight, Doll." He smirks and gives you another quick kiss before turning to meet up with the waiting taxi.

-----

The next day you receive a text:

'This is getting framed.'

Attached was a picture of Benji's Christmas card stuck to Bucky's refrigerator by a magnet.

Sorry for the long wait! You rush a miracle, you get rotten miracles. If you'd like to see more, send me your ideas. 😉

Dividers I believe were from @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @firstcashheroathlete @stany0url0calwh0res111 @sjsmith56 @eliwinchester99 @tbhidkbutok @babymady @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @its-daydreamer23 @capswife @thecubanator2 @wintermunsonreads @buckybarnessimpp @moon-light1928 @emily-roberts @jeanbarton @lottiehernandez @tellenically @trixxietat @imdoingbetternow @maximoffrogersslut @samsgirl93 @lovebittenbyevans @inwhichiramble @jbuckybarnesfan @daemonslittlebitch @marvel88 @spiderman-stilinski @marvelfreakgirl @tinkerbelle67 @assassinscross @foolishwaitersblog @jasminex12 @buckysbaby-doll @kilikina34512 @rintheemolion @themorningsunshine @saranghaey @je-suis-prest-rachel @alovecraft @openup-yourmind  @alicedopey @ilovetaquitosmmmm @sebbystanlover-vk @s0upm1x @ivorycrow19 @songoficecreamandfireworks

Next: Part 6 I Caught Fire

#uncle buck fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes series #bucky fanfic

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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[jamneuromain]

Mean Daddy Pt.2

Logan Syverson x Reader (You)

Word Count: 1k

Warning: Mean!Sy, established relationship, pussy spanking, aftercare turns into foreplay(?), oral (implied), a whole lot of teasing, fluff.

Summary: Your mean daddy comes home ... and you're in for the night :]

A/N: For the record, I'm not sorry at all for the cliffhanger (and stretching this short fic into three parts...) @gummydummy19 :3

Find Part 1 here

This isn’t exactly what you had planned for tonight.

Well, technically you did plan for some spicy evening events, but you did not expect Sy to make changes to the timetable plan, and spend all afternoon and evening on your bed.

… eh, spending all day on you.

And the worst part is, you have passed out twice now, and except for bathroom breaks and snack breaks, Sy hasn’t stopped playing the game he invented, which has the name “How many times can you cum”.

Spoiler alert, you’ve both lost count, but that doesn’t stop him from playing.

The clock strikes nine, and you feel there’s not one good bone in your body.

Thankfully, it’s another snack break.

While munching on apple slices that Sy cut for you, you’ve turned on your laptop for a show called Family Feud. Basically, the show interviewed random 100 people on the street with some questions, and came back with the top six answers. Whichever team answers more, wins.

It’s less exciting, compared to the detective/murder ones you often enjoy, but this is what Sy needs, something light and funny, instead of the sound of gunshots that would make his body tense up.

“Young man,” the show host Steve Harvey asks, “Name something your girlfriend would do to your face.”

The shy boy on the screen covers his twitching lips with his fist, “Uh… I’m gonna say sit on it.”

The audience on the screen roars out laughter, while you can’t help but giggle simultaneously.

A light squeeze of your tummy dials your giggling down, having you remember the large beefcake wrapping around you with his thick arms and legs.

“C’mon, Sy, you can’t tell me that’s not funny.” You burst out a new fit of giggles, tugging on his bearded chin, without turning around, “Besides,” You try your best to cross your legs discreetly, not getting his attention that your pussy is dripping again, because, for Christ’s sake, your lady parts have been through literal Hell tonight, “it’s not like we haven’t tried it before.”

“Hmm.” Is his grumbling reply.

You let out an exhale of relief. It’s not your fault that your mind is filled with pure filth of how he used to bury his head between your thighs…

The show Family Feud goes on, but you allow the jests and laughs to slip by your ear, since your brain is occupied with porn, and wet your lips when you can almost feel his beard leaving a burn that would remain for days…

The calloused hand moves from your belly to your tits, weighing them in his palm.

Sy’s low timbre ghosts your ears, “Penny for your thoughts, sugar.”

Your pebbled peak rolls under his fingers involuntarily. No word comes out of your mouth except for a small whimper. God, you want him to eat you out, pin you down with one hand over your stomach and one hand groping your tits, swinging your legs over his broad shoulders, bringing you to the edge of ecstasy as you chant his name like a prayer.

“Want to grind on my face?” He proposes with his sinful lips, circling one hand painfully close to your weeping core, while flicking your nipple with the other. “Be a good little slut and ride Daddy like you were told to?”

“Uh-Uh-huh.” You nod eagerly. Your pussy feels raw and used, as if someone (Sy) has set fire to it, yet you could not resist the temptation of reaching your limit once again – what can you say, you never learn from the pain.

Sy admires your ruined body for a brief second, cupping your mound with his palm. You buck your hip to meet his fingers, but to your frustration, he holds his position without wavering, neither meeting your silent plea nor denying it. “Shit,” a sly smile hangs on the corner of his lips, “that desperate, huh? Fucking my hand like that? Poor baby.”

“Sy,” you whimper, struggling in his tightened grip, begging him with your teary eyes, “want you to kiss it and make it better, please Daddy.”

“Aww,” he coos softly, kissing the top of your head, “I like the sound of that.”

Smug bastard.

“Use your big-girl words, darlin’.” Sy traces a bead of sweat that disappears between your tits. His hand glides down your body, sneaking it under your thigh before pulling them wide open, earning a surprised squeal from your lips.

“Want t-to ride your face, Daddy.” You stutter as he lowers his head to kiss the carotid artery on the side of your neck, your fingers dig into his veiny arms that hold your thigh, “Want-ah!”

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” He feigns his curiosity, pretending he has no idea that he has just smacked your sensitive bundle of nerves, “Cat got your tongue? Can’t hear you though,” Sy smacks your pussy again, making you nearly jump from his embrace, “Don’ really know what you’re talking about, sugar.”

The harshness of the slaps adds to the numbness and the sting of your ruined hole, coating his hand with a shin of juices, which he wipes on the side of your thigh, glistening with the evidence of the betrayal of your body, even when it still hurts from the overstimulation during previous hours.

“Daddy,” you whine in embarrassment and a tinge of desperation, “Daddy, pleaaase.”

Sy chuckles behind you, manoeuvring himself to your front, pressing a bit harder on your stomach to have you lie down. Kissing both of your thighs, he spreads them wider than before – wide enough to fit a grown man and his shoulders in between – and trails a line of soft pecks on your lower abdomen, and finally, on your quivering pussy.

“Better make those pretty noises for me, darlin’,” Sy whispers while nibbling on your skin, lifting your thighs onto his shoulders - his favorite position. His tone drips a hint of darkness, both a threat and a promise, shooting a shiver down your spine, “If you ain’t screaming, you ain’t creaming.”

#captain syverson x you #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #sand castle #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson fic

[erospandemos]

Exam stress

Minnie x Reader

Length: 2.1k

Nicha notices how hard you're studying and gives you comfort for the exhaustion.

Note: Minnie's real name is Nicha Yontararak

Dedicated to @svndaysaweek

You were sitting on your desk, frowning, with a hand on your face to prevent exhaustion from planting your nose flat on the desk. Your eyes were burning, your eyelids felt heavy, your back was giving up on you, and the engines inside your brain were too filled with rust to function properly. 

Late-night study sessions were the norm for most students, especially if the competition was high. But it was all easy and done with the help of a coffee and the incoming threat. The problem was doing it for a week straight. At this point, coffee didn’t work anymore and the only thing keeping you awake was pure willpower. You knew the finals were near and you were terrified, you couldn’t stop now.

Nicha knew something was wrong. She briefly wondered if it was just her impression but really she just noticed all those minor differences in your behavior—you started talking to her less, compressing your conversations into tiny paragraphs, your movements got more sluggish, and your brightness seemed to fade away. 

She wasn’t worried about you cheating, losing feelings, and whatnot. Her first guess was your health. But then she remembered what you told her weeks ago: “Nicha, the finals are coming so I’ll have to study a lot more. Sorry, I’ll make up for it when they’re finished, okay?”

Nicha walked down the corridor and into your room. 

“Baby…how’s the studying going?” she asked softly, barely touching your shoulder. “I know math makes you feel like you want to rip your eyes out…”

You didn’t answer at first. You didn’t really hear her—it took you a moment to register her voice.

“Hey, sweetheart? How’s it going? Definitely see more writing in that notebook…” Nicha made another attempt, putting her head closer to you to look at your desk. 

It was because you turned around and looked at Nicha, that you finally noticed the dark sky out of the window and realized how late it was. She looked at you, a bit surprised at your furious eyes and crooked frown. Your expression wasn’t as contorted as it looked, but the dark circles stepped it up a notch.

“Why are you looking at me like that…?” she whispered with hesitation.

You let out a loud growl, turning around and ripped away a page of your notebook. Whatever. You didn’t need those, they came out all wrong anyways. You were going insane. You studied math all afternoon: you got most of them right at the start but as time went on, you kept making more mistakes and now they were all wrong. What was even more frustrating was how stupid the errors were.

“Oh, oh, okay. Erm…baby?” Nicha stumbled, trying to find the right words. 

You sighed and shoved your face in your hand for the nth time to scrap the tiredness out of your skin. 

“Sweetheart, are you…are you mad at ME? If I need to give you space, I will, I just…”

“No, no, it’s not you Nicha,” you finally spoke up.

“No? Okay. Are you frustrated?”

“Yeah… sorry, Nicha, I kinda snapped. It all kinda stacked up—the exercises look impossible, studying the same subjects for days is so tiring, the news of the test are making more and more scared, I really need to study more, to get more of them right, I—”

“It’s okay baby,” she shut you up, placing a hand on your nape. You closed your lips and listened to her voice. If it wasn’t for her, you’d just be raging even more and tire yourself uselessly. “You don’t have to explain—I get it. Math wasn’t my….best subject either.”

“There’s this thing where I need to compute this thing and I need all sort of tricks. I probably have to see it like a convolution or something…”

“Uhhh… What the hell is that?” Nicha’s honest reply made you chuckle. Your words really sounded absurd.

“That sounds super complicated. And by the looks of those weird things on your laptop, it is. Who invented this shit?”

“We all have to do it though,” you said, defeated.

Nicha sighed. “No, no, you’re right. But why don’t we come up with a plan for this, hmm? You’re just studying for hours on end without rest, it surely won’t be effective.” Nicha took your hand and pulled you up from your chair, pulling you to the bed. You didn’t say anything and followed her. She sat down against the wall and back hugged you like a huge stuffed animal, keeping you warm and comfy. 

“So how much stuff do you have to know for this exam?”

“Well, I have language first with all the reading, literature and writing. Then math, the basics are okay but then there is calculus, probability and geometry, which is so hard. Then there are the other subjects like physics, geography and history—I think it’s manageable, I just have to memorize.”

“Mhmm. Okay. And how much time do you have before the exam?”

“Next month,” you said and buried your face on your knees from desperation. Nicha noticed it and hugged you tighter, placing her hands under your chest and keeping her body glued to your back. For a moment, your muscles relax and all the built up stress dissipated. You let her cuddle you, which she was really enjoying. 

“Starting studying early. Good job, so let’s divide this up…”

“8-10 hours a day should be good.”

“No, no. Baby that’s too much for one day.”

“It’s the bare minimum, Nicha, I won’t be able to remember anything if I don’t—”

“Don’t argue with me. You already know it’s not going to work. Look at you, you can barely stand up, you’ll end up in the hospital before you can even attend the test. You have to sleep and get rest or the subjects will just drip out of your ears and you will forget them.”

“I need to study more.”

“I KNOW you need to study,” Nicha sighed. “Baby, you’ve been going for so long I bet you’re not even retaining any information right now. You’re just making yourself more frustrated.” 

“I guess you’re right, maybe that’s why I am making so many mistakes… I’m a bit sleepy actually.”

Nicha raised her face and looked at the clock. 1 AM. “…jeez, baby. You little sneak! You distracted me. I had NO idea it was THIS late. You need to sleep.”

Before you could say anything, your stomach spoke for you, letting out a low rumble. You blushed and shrinked in Nicha’s embrace. She just chuckled at your action but immediately turned serious, pinching her eyebrows. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet, did you?”

“No…” you said quietly.

“You damn— fine, let’s go eat something. There are still some cup noodles in the drawer.” Nicha got up, and jumped off the bed. Feeling her warmth leave your back was a bit disheartening but you really had to go eat because the hunger was killing you. As soon as you stepped down the bed, you felt light-headed, realizing Nicha was right and you pushed yourself too hard. 

Your girlfriend was already putting water in the boiler and taking the cups out. 

You smiled and looked at her, slowly stepping into the kitchen. She looked so focused on getting everything. Her big t-shirt flowing around, matching her striped long pyjama pants, she looked comfy with her hair tied up in a messy bun. 

You were lucky to have her caring for you.

When this hell was over, you’ll have to find a good date place and really spoil her.

“Hey, don’t just stand there, come help me.”

“I’m coming,” you said and followed her.

As the kettle finally clicked off, signaling the water was ready, Nicha held the cups steady. You carefully poured the hot water into each cup, the steam rising in a warm, fragrant cloud. The noodles quickly softened. You closed the lids, after putting in the seasoning mix, and waited for a few moments.

Nicha got the kimchi out and placed some plump pieces of cabbage on a plate.

You tried to ask her about her day but Nicha was more focused on you and wanted you to rant, at least for now. She insisted on asking more about you and gave you time to think and speak. She looked at you with a smile, her eyes didn’t leave you for even one second.

“School is so stressful… and although everyone tells me it will be better in uni, I don’t really believe them.”

“Oh, I know, I know. I know school is so stressful. It’s like a full-time job you’re not getting paid for.”

“If I can get a good score, I’ll get into a good uni. Only then, I’ll be able to rest.”

“I know your studies are important to you. And I’m really proud of you for that. You worked really hard and I can’t be anything else but proud. But frankly, it makes me a little sad when you hole yourself up to study all the time instead of going out from time to time.”

“I’m sorry for disappointing you,” you confessed.

“No, no, I’m not disappointed. I love you the way you are. I know you still care about me and I always see it. Whenever you can, you always buy food for me, you listen to all the bullshit I have to say, your messages…” Nicha stopped herself before she’d get lost in her ranting. “I’m not going to tell you that grades aren’t important because I know it’s really important for you, but I just hope you don’t get too lose in your studies and forget about yourself.”

You finished your noodles by distracting yourself with jokes and stories, Nicha always had something interesting to say. You didn’t go outside much these days and neither did your friends because of the preparation for the exam, so you could only tell her about what you saw on the internet but you could still make her laugh.

You took turns to brush your teeth and wash your face in the bathroom, while Nicha was putting everything away. You walked to your desk and looked at the notebook. Just one quick look won’t do you any harm, you could look at the notes once more to make sure they really sticked. You sat down and flipped through the pages back to the start.

When Nicha entered the room, she yelled, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m just… I’m just reviewing a little bit. I’m not going to study anymore,” you said with guilt, the guilt of someone that just betrayed the person that trusted you the most. 

“I just saw you yawn. We both know you wanna sleep.”

Nicha got a hold of you between her arms to convince you to get up. You tried to resist but she was so persistent that you couldn’t resist much longer. You quickly put everything away and went on the bed, with Nicha joining you. 

Her hair flowed gently over her shoulders, and her eyes radiated warmth and tenderness as she looked at you. Sensing your need for comfort, the girl extended an inviting hand. You accepted the gesture, and you moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed, facing each other. 

Their eyes locked, and the girl gently wrapped her arms around the boy, pulling him close into an embrace. Their bodies molded perfectly together, and the world seemed to disappear as you held each other. Everything that happened that week and everything that worried you about the future. She could feel the tension in our body, the weight of your worries, and she knew she needed to help you.

She began to softly whisper sweet nothings into his ear, her breath warm against his skin. "I’m really proud of you," she murmured, her voice like a gentle lullaby. "You're stronger than you know, and I care about you more than words can express." 

As they cuddled, the girl's fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, moving with a gentle, rhythmic motion. Each stroke seemed to wash away a bit of your worries, replacing them with a sense of security and belonging. She pressed tender kisses on your forehead, your cheeks, and finally, your lips, conveying her love and affection without the need for words.

With each passing moment, your tension gradually melted away, and you began to relax in the girl's arms. Her comforting embrace and loving words acted as a soothing balm. And the weight on your back finally slipped away.

You laid on the bed with her and slowly started to drift away until you fell asleep. 

THE END

Written, 24 September 2023

#fluff #kpop fluff #kpop #g idle #minnie #g idle minnie #g idle fluff #minnie fluff

[nexysworld]

Guardian Angel 🖤 Part 1 🖤

Read on AO3 - Requests are Open - Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | 4.1 | 4.2| 4.3

Summary: Leon was your regular friendly neighbor, always helping you out. He’s just a nice friendly guy. Simple as that… or so you thought. As his obsession with you increases you'll soon learn just what type of man your seemingly friendly neighbor truly is.

🖤Pairing: Yandere!Leon/Fem!Reader 

🖤Tags (not all apply to all chapters): NSFW, Masturbation, Dubcon, Sex, Gaslighting, canon typical horror and gore descriptions, probably eventual kidnapping or kidnapping like behavior, use of pet names like bunny. Will add more tags as the story goes on

@hxllfiredoll Gave me Yandere!Leon brainrot, so here we go! I picture at least RE4R Leon in this. Let’s a gooooooo! 

Leon had changed since the events of Raccoon City. He was no longer the bright eyed rookie cop who had the whole world ahead of him. Now he was in a much darker place, he’d seen the worst the world had to offer and he was not impressed. This world was no place for someone as perfect as you.

He felt like you were his flower trapped in a glass à la Beauty and the Beast, and without him there the glass would be removed by the world, each petal plucked from you until soon there’d be nothing left of his flower. You needed him obviously. What would you do without him? 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

You didn’t know much about Leon, he was your neighbor and kept to himself mostly. You knew he worked for the government, but didn’t know what that entailed. You knew he was beyond handsome, but awkward as hell, at least from what you observed. You remembered coming up the stairs to your shared apartment building and the girl from apartment 202 had cornered him. Despite her best efforts and subtly hitting on him, she was met with a solid, “ok.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone escape behind a door faster than watching his honey blonde hair bounce with the speed of his movements. The next time you saw him you ran straight into him because you weren’t paying attention, dropping all of your grocery bags.. “Oh god I’m so sorry.” You said, reeling from how knocking into him was like hitting a wall with how built he was. “Hey, it's ok, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” He said. “Here let me help you with that.” Effortlessly he managed to pick up all of your bags and carry them to your apartment for you. “Thanks Leon.” “Don’t worry about it.” He gave you a quick smile before leaving. Really you thought Leon was just a naturally caring guy. I mean not all guys who are ridiculously good looking are assholes, right? That’s just a stereotype, and Leon would prove that to you often. It seemed like Leon was always somehow there to help you, with friendly neighborly gestures. Out of sugar? Sure you can borrow his. Laptop not working? Don’t worry he’s good with electronics. Furniture needs moving? Well it’s a good thing he’s strong. Really Leon was one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met. He just exudes a sense of friendly trustworthiness that you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was his soothing voice, or those steely blue eyes that you tried not to get lost in when you’d speak with him. Sometimes you’d find yourself inventing problems in order to speak with him and ask for help. You chalked it up to a little crush, nothing more than that. You wouldn’t allow it to be so, you had a boyfriend already, plans for the future. You weren’t the type of girl who’d throw that all away for some hot guy. Besides, Leon didn’t like you like that anyway, if he did you're sure you would know. He’s just a nice friendly guy. Simple as that. 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

Leon thought about you a lot. When you’d leave he’d work his brain to remember the lingering scent of your floral perfume, the way you shyly tucked your hair out of your face when you talked with him. Most importantly that adorably sweet voice that ran like honey through his ears. He couldn’t believe such a little bunny like you lived right next to him. So sweet. So cute. So needy. Always knocking on his door for one thing or another. Under normal circumstances he would find himself irritated with the outside intrusion. When Leon wasn’t at work he liked to disassociate from life, what else was the point? Fight the bad guys. Go home. More pop up. Repeat. The world wasn’t kind, it wasn't fair. There was no point in anything else. But then you moved in. The girl next door. You became the point, the pinnacle of his future. His salvation. His new purpose. 

Slowly Leon began to notice that you needed his help more than you even realized. How did you even survive before meeting him? He began to follow you home from work, just to make sure you were safe of course. You were just a little hazard to yourself honestly. You didn’t look both ways before crossing the empty roads. You kept your social security card in your purse (don’t ask how he knows that.) You were too much of a people pleaser to avoid the strangers who’d stop to talk to you. Too dumb to know better than to wear such short little skirts out in public. 

Even worse was your home defense, I mean it took almost nothing for Leon to get into your apartment while you were away, and you certainly didn’t notice the little changes he made. Like the tiny cameras seated within your potted plants, the eye of the teddy bear you kept on your nightstand. You left your laptop open right on the kitchen counter! He didn’t even need to use his government equipment to get into your stuff. One hour of his time and all of a sudden all your texts and emails were popping up on his own secondary phone, your social media, everything.

 Stupid, stupid little bunny. The only thing worse than your ability to protect yourself was that hoity-toity upperclass hipster you called a boyfriend. Leon simply couldn’t fathom how some saucy fuck boy like that could work his way into your pure heart. He’d spent hours going through all your DM’s and texts with this man. He simply could not see the appeal. He treated you like you were too stupid to understand his profound pretentious thoughts and opinions. You were too good for scum like him. You needed a real man, you deserved a real man. 

Luckily for you, Leon was a real man. And now he found his new purpose in life was to keep you safe, keep your petals attached. You were so lucky Leon found you, he was going to give you everything you’d ever need. You’d never have to worry or think again. 

Leon had intended to do things the right way too, take things slowly. Really he did. He didn’t want you afraid of him, no he was going to be your prince, your knight in shining armor. He spent countless nights thinking of all the ways he could rid your boyfriend from existence so he could slip inside your heart and clean up the mess that was left. 

He thought of your gorgeous face, the cute little blushes you try to hide when you’re around him, how red your face would be if he finally took the plunge and asked you out. Or maybe he’d be more dramatic, going directly in for a kiss, running his tongue over your bottom lip, teasing you. Oh how precious his little bunny was.

Despite it taking every ounce of self control, Leon was determined to take things slowly, well he was trying anyway, you weren’t making this very easy, especially with the noises he was hearing from his computer. He lifted the laptop up so he could set it on the nightstand next to him. He clicked on the thumbnail of your room to blow up the image, and there you were splayed out putting on a show just for him - not that you knew that of course. 

There you were in all your glory, back arched into the mattress as you worked the toy in and out of your sopping hole with one hand while the other danced around your clit at a steady pace. Your face was flushed, lip bitten and eyes closed as you generated your pleasure. You looked so serene and ethereal, like a goddess of pleasure that he could worship. Leon felt his cock harden in his boxers, he pulled himself out and lazily stroked himself while he watched you. This was nothing new, something he’d done many times…that was until he heard your voice. “Nnng Leon…” He blinked at the screen for a moment, frozen as you softly chanted his name like a prayer. That, that was new. He knew you liked him, but he’d never seen you get off to him before. You were always such a good little girl, devoted to your future ex-boyfriend. The sound caught him so off guard he almost finished by your voice alone. He released his cock from his hand so he could grab the pair of panties of yours he kept in his nightstand, he wrapped them around his cock and continued to jerk himself while he watched you, jerking himself in rhythm with the way you toyed with yourself. He sped up when it looked like you were close, aiming to finish when you did. The second you let out a final scream of his name he felt the pleasure burst from his cock as hot ropes of cum spilled onto the laptop screen and his leg. “Don’t worry baby.” He said to the screen. “I won’t make you wait much longer for the real thing. My sweet little bunny shouldn’t have to work so hard to feel good.”

With that little scene before him, his resolve crumbled. Clearly going slow was a mistake, you needed him so badly in more ways than one. He was going to show you just how safe you are with him, how good he’ll be able to make you feel.

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

“Hey Derek, are you okay?” You asked as your boyfriend doubled over in the middle of the alleyway. “Yeah, just drank too much I think.” He said as the rest of his dinner came up along with what looked like blood. Under the dim lamplight you noticed that his skin was shining with sweat and there were spiderwebs of veins that looked pure black as they creeped along his skin. “D-derek…I really think we should get you to a hospital.” You said worriedly, putting your hand on his back. He spun around in a fury. “Don’t fucking touch me, I said I’m fine!” His eyes were a deep red and almost looked like they were glowing in the night. You backed away a few steps nervously. This was like a scene from a horror movie, surely it wasn’t real right? Maybe it was a prank? You gently reached out with a shaky arm to him. “H-hey, it’s gonna be alright.” He grabbed your wrist and yanked you harder than you thought possible before slamming you against the brick wall of the alley. He snarled in a way you’d never seen a human do before. “Stop, this isn’t funny.” You pleaded with him, but they fell on deaf ears. Desperately you fished around in your pocket until you found the pocket knife you kept in there. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll have to use it.” You threatened as your hand shook with tremors. The black veins had reached all over his face now, he snarled again leaning in with an open mouth indicating his intention to bite the flesh from your skin. In a scared panic you jammed the knife directly into his neck, he dropped to the ground and you ran to the end of the alley, tears welling in your eyes.

You stood staring at his body as it layed there on the ground twitching. You fished for your phone to call 911, but remembered you had forgotten it at home before your date. Fuck. You thought to yourself as you tried to ponder your next steps. Your thoughts were cut short though when you heard a disgusting sound, like flesh being torn apart, bones breaking. You looked over and saw something beginning to protrude from his face and neck. Worms? Tentacles? You weren’t sure. Surely you must be hallucinating right now, having a psychotic break. There was no other explanation for this.

You took one step forward, then another, and another until you were back in front of his body. Within seconds your face was splattered with blood as whatever it was bursted out entirely from his neck. You could see all the deformed features of his face while they danced in a mix of tentacles that were waving before you. You felt sick. You felt frozen. A gunshot rang out, and your boyfriend’s body slumped back to the ground, tentacles and all. The world became dizzy, the alley turning upside down, a voice you couldn’t make out. Someone stood over you, but you couldn’t see who as your head rattled. The next thing you knew you were out, slipping into the black void of unconsciousness. 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

Leon had worked out the fastest plan to get rid of your future ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t hard for him to get a sample of the Plagas virus that the lab had been storing and it was even less difficult to inject it into the man. Of course the cleanup was a bit of a pain, blaming a DSO researcher who lived nearby, framing it on them. But when you want something done right, you gotta put a little effort in, ya know? Anything for his little bunny. Leon kept a close eye on you, closer than usual. His goal was only to frighten his little rabbit, not let her get killed or hurt more than was required. He saw the virus taking effect instantly, and noticed the odd ticks that would occur during your dinner date. Your own future ex-boyfriend and you didn’t even notice a change in his behavior until it became so obvious. He trailed you to the alleyway, hiding behind the dumpster as the scene played out. It hurt him to see you so scared. Truly it did, but you needed this. He couldn’t believe you actually walked back over to the body. See little bunny? That’s exactly why you needed Leon. The second Derek’s corpse was back on his feet, Leon drew his gun before sending a single, and final, lethal shot sending the Plagas back to the ground. He walked forward and caught you just as your body went slack. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I got you.” He said tossing you over his shoulder and into his car. His timing was perfect. He’d arrived back at the apartments just in time for the outside lights to be turned off both in the parking garage and external hallways. Carrying you to your apartment without being seen was a cakewalk. You made it even easier by staying unconscious the whole time Leon washed you up and tucked you into bed. He made sure to hide all evidence of your bloodied clothes, and of your now dead ex-boyfriend. Of course the DSO wouldn’t want the public to know that any kind of outbreak occurred, no matter how small, which meant that Derek had to disappear entirely. The government would take care of his family and friends, but you, you were all Leon’s to handle. He was nothing if not thorough to be sure, deleting any social media post, text, call log, anything at all that involved the man you once knew. Before he left your apartment, he leaned over and placed a small kiss on your forehead before slipping back over to his own apartment before the crack of dawn. Leon waited patiently for hours. Excruciating hours while you remained in your unconscious state. He knew you were about to wake though when he saw your face scrunch up on the camera, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

You shot up in a panic. “Derek? Derek!” You shouted as your head pounded, your heart beat was so loud it resounded in your ears. You were more confused when your bedroom came into view and someone was sitting on the end of your bed. . . Leon? “What the —” “Hey sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said softly, moving towards you arm out like he was approaching a scared animal. “I heard you screaming and you didn’t answer the door so I let myself in just to make sure you were okay.” It took a few moments to process his words before you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh god, I’m sorry if I woke you up. I was just having a bad dream.” “Sounds like it.” He said softly, and there they were those endless blue eyes, instantly instilling comfort in you. “You sure you’re okay?” “Yeah I just…it was a nightmare that Derek died and…” She shuddered again. “Derek? Who’s that?” Leon asked, tilting his head. “A family member?” You gave him a confused look. Leon knew who your boyfriend was, they’d even met in passing once when he dropped you off at home. “No, Derek, you know him, my boyfriend?” “Derek? I don’t know anyone by that name, I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.” He said with a soft laugh. Your eyebrows knitted together in a v-shape, more confused than ever. Maybe Leon just forgot? Maybe he was just joking with you? You reached over and grabbed your phone from the nightstand. You thought maybe giving him a call would help ease your mind, and maybe showcase to Leon you did in fact have a boyfriend. You swiped through your messages but didn’t see the text thread. You tried your snapchat, nothing. Instagram DMs, nothing. None of your threads or his accounts showed up at all. “What the fuck.” You said to yourself, hands beginning to tremble. “Is everything okay?” Leon asked softly. “Yeah I just…” You furiously swiped through your contacts and Derek wasn’t there. You tried calling his number. “Sorry the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or no longer in service.” Something felt very wrong. You launched out of bed to your closet and dug through your old shoe boxes like a madwoman, ripping the lid off to dig through your polaroids that you had. Every single one with Derek, gone. You turned to face Leon, new tears streaming down your face. “What the fuck is going on.” You asked mostly to yourself. Leon walked over to you and ran a thumb over your cheek soothingly. “Hey, hey, calm down. Calm down. What’s wrong?” He asked softly. “What do you mean what’s wrong? Derek’s gone, everything is gone!? I was with him in the street and he died and now…now he’s just gone the pictures are gone…” You weren’t making a lot of sense trying to explain to Leon what you were talking about. Were you having a psychotic break? No way, the memories you had were real, how can you just imagine a decade of memories!?

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

His plan was working. Not even moments after you woke up you were already connecting your thoughts and memories to a person who no longer existed. He knew the more you pushed about this, the more lost you’d become. He wasn’t usually one for gaslighting, but he’d use any tool at his disposal for you. Don’t worry little bunny, the pain wouldn’t last long. Leon was here for you. He walked over and wrapped his strong arms around you in the tightest hug he could give you. He shushed you and rubbed your back while you sobbed. “Hey, hey it’ll be okay. It will be okay, why don’t we get you back to bed.”

He led you back to the mattress, running his fingers through your hair while you laid down. “Shhhh. Shhh.” He cooed, tucking you in tightly. When he turned to leave your arm shot out to his. “W-wait. If you don’t mind, can you stay the night? I just.. Something feels wrong. I don't want to be alone.” Of course he would stay the night with you. He nodded and sunk down on the bed next to you, above the blanket, not wanting to push his affections too far just yet. He played with your hair while you fell asleep again. Don’t worry little bunny, you were safe with him. You’ll always be safe with him. 

#leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #Female reader #resident evil #fanfiction #reader insert #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #yandere! leon kennedy #re4r #re4r leon #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil 4

[smallgodseries]

ThatDarnYeti won our little contest. When we asked what Small God they'd like a print of, they replied, "My partner (from who I stole this line; she threatens to use it on her incoming Freshman at her university) has chosen the Medusa, Small God of Social Distancing as her just reward for allowing my wholesale plagiarism." ___________________________________________________ [image description: A woman with green snakes for hair sits at a desk in front of a laptop. Next to her there is a mug with a pegasus on it and behind her there are several humans turned to stone. Text reads, “#1 Medusa, The Small God of Social Distancing.”]

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It’s not like they weren’t warned.

She could feel bad for the first few, almost.  The ones who’d found her in the wreckage of her chiton, clutching the fabric to her breast and sobbing into her own fallen locks of hair, not yet fully aware of what had happened to her, what she had become—or what she was becoming.  She’d known the gods could be cruel.  She’d known that when Poseidon pressed himself upon her, there would be consequences.

She hadn’t expected those consequences to include rejection by her own goddess, or transformation into something terrible and new…or godhood.  But when the gods slung their powers around without thought of the cost to those they chose to target, sometimes there were unintended side effects.

She thought the snakes might have been Athena’s attempt at an apology, even though her pride and place in the pantheon had made it impossible for her to offer one aloud.  They were company, always, and they kept the spiders from walking across her face at night, swallowing them whole with little legs waving.  They had horrified her in the beginning.  Now she couldn’t imagine her eternity without them.

The invention of the internet had been a blessing no god could have predicted, but it wasn’t her salvation.  The snakes were her salvation.  The snakes and herself, for she had grown to be all the company she would ever need over the centuries of hiding herself away and staying as far as she could from the fragile mortals she posed such a danger to.

But they had forgotten the dangers of sickness.  They had forgotten the days of ten children born in the hopes that two might see adulthood.  They had grown soft in the paradise they’d crafted with their own hands, forming their own Olympus one day and one dream at a time.

If it had been up to her, she would have sheltered them.  But for all that she was a divinity in her own right, it had never been up to her.  Even as they began to call on her to preserve them through terrible times, all she could do was repeat the prayer that would protect them:

“Stay in your homes.  Wash your hands.  Be careful.  Stay safe.  Be careful.”

And then: “And STOP TOUCHING YOUR FACE.”

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Artist Lee Moyer (Trident of Aurelia, 13th Age) and author Seanan McGuire (Wayward Children, October Daye & InCryptid series) sincerely thank to each and every one of you who share Small Gods!

[ecoamerica]

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