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luminoustarlight · 8 months

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Practice | Anakin Skywalker

Playing with Anakin's hair leads to you practicing your dominant side.

rating: explicit | pairing: anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 2.4k | read on ao3 warnings: fluff, SMUT [sub!ani, dom!reader (she's trying), blow jobs, ball sucking, ball/cock worship, p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of the force], ani comforting reader at the end <3

this is dedicated to my bestie who was talking about Anakin's fluffy hair and said "ugh make a fic where reader plays with his hair and it turns him on"

so... here you go :)

On any given night, when Anakin isn’t on a mission, it’s very likely he’s at your apartment. It’s too risky having you over at the Temple and his living quarters aren’t very spacious anyway. Anakin always says he feels most at home in your apartment. But it has nothing to do with where he’s at, it has everything to do with where you are.

Now both relaxing on the couch after dinner, Anakin’s head is in your lap while you watch Pod Racing on the HoloTV. “D’you miss it?”

“What?” Anakin mumbles.

“Pod racing.” You begin combing your fingers through Anakin’s hair, getting any knots and tangles out of the waves.

“Mmm,” he hums in contentment. “Sometimes. I don’t miss Tatooine…”

“Or the sand,” you both say.

Anakin smiles. “You know me so well.”

“It’s not like you hide your hatred for sand, Ani.” You roll your eyes and tug at Anakin’s roots to tease him.

A visceral groan erupts from Anakin’s throat, which he quickly “covers up” with a cough. “Mhm, yeah, I know.”

“You okay there, baby?” Your voice is as sweet as cinnamon— warm with a hint of spice. You know exactly how Anakin gets when you pull on his hair during sex. It drives him insane and normally drives his cock deeper and harder into your cunt. But you have other plans for him tonight.

Your nails dragging down his scalp are hypnotizing. Each time you reach the nape of his neck, you pull. It earns you a suppressed moan every time. Anakin is yanking at the material of his pants, already beginning to feel the uncomfortable tightness your touch always brings him. He thinks he’s being so discrete, pointing at the HoloTV, mumbling something about the race while adjusting his hard-on in his pants.

“What’s the matter, honey? You getting hard just from me playing with your hair?” Your taunting voice doesn’t come out often but when it does, a different kind of desire stirs inside of Anakin. He welcomes your dominant side, even when he’s still working on being submissive.

His dick is already throbbing so yes, he absolutely did get hard from you playing with his hair. “Ngh, yes.”

With a fistful of his hair in your hand, you yank Anakin’s head so his eyes meet yours. He doesn’t quiet his moan this time. His receptiveness to your actions fills you with pride. You are the one he gives control to. You are the one who makes him vulnerable, needy, and eager for your touch. “Are you going to be a good boy tonight?”

Anakin swallows. “Yes.”

“Sit up,” you command. As Anakin lifts himself from your lap and his back is against the couch cushion, you get off the couch and settle between Anakin’s legs. “I might be on my knees for you but make no mistake, Anakin. I am in control tonight. No touching until I say it’s okay. Do you understand?”

Maker. Anakin is burning for you. His cock jumps with anticipation, a wet stain of pre-cum seeping through not just his underwear, but his pants, too. With your tone and your commanding eyes, Anakin can’t help but fully submit. “Yes, I understand.”

Oh, how his complacency makes your cunt ache. You rest your hands over Anakin’s strong thighs and he tenses under your touch. “Good,” you say, beginning a line of kisses on his leg. It’s a painfully slow path up to Anakin’s crotch. He’s sitting on his hands to keep from touching you, meager little whimpers falling from those pretty lips of his. When your mouth finally presses a firm kiss over his clothed length, Anakin can’t help but groan.

“Please,” he begs. He wants to touch you, he wants your mouth, he wants anything more than just you kissing his cock with two layers of fabric between you. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think through the pain in his groin. “Please, baby, please.”

“Hmm?” you hum against him, sending a shrill of vibrations from Anakin’s cock down to his toes. You lay your head on his thigh, blinking up at him with fake oblivion. “Did you want something?”

“You know I do,” Anakin answers frustratedly. Being a sub is hard for him sometimes. Okay, most of the time. But he tries for you and you appreciate it. He just needs to be put back in his place every now and again.

You lift your head and frown, completely withdrawing your body from him as you stand. “Now, that’s no way to ask for something. I don’t think you deserve my mouth.”

Anakin’s attitude immediately changes. He straightens his back before beginning his lament. “No, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, angel. Please put your mouth on my cock.”

“How badly do you want it?”

Anakin groans, pulling at his pants again. “So badly, baby. Maker, I need your mouth or your hand— please. I’ll be good.”

“Take off your pants, Ani.”

As soon as those words leave your mouth, Anakin is fumbling with his waistband and removing his pants with haste. He’s so eager and careless, it almost makes you laugh. This desperate man is a far cry from the commanding General of the 501st. If only those boys could see General Skywalker now. Completely helpless and begging for you to pleasure him.

With his cock free from its confinement, a small wave of relief washes over Anakin. You appease him, placing your hands back on his thighs and dragging the flat of your tongue along the underside of his dick. Anakin immediately moans beneath you. Each kiss you place on his length leaves Anakin in shambles. He’s so bloody impatient. He hates when you tease him but he knows it’s just you giving him a taste of his own medicine. Because he is the master of teasing.

Still only using your mouth, you swirl your tongue over his leaking tip, nose brushing against his happy trail. You flick your tongue over his slit, which always makes him go crazy. He reactively bucks his hips up but you remove your mouth. Pinching his thighs, you scold him. “None of that. Be patient, Ani.”

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, cheek tucking into his shoulder. “Jus’ feels so good.”

“I know, Ani.” You grab the base of him now, taking a moment to marvel at how your fingers don’t wrap all the way around him. You stroke him thoughtfully and languidly, Anakin throws his head back over the constant pleasure you’re finally rewarding him.

You tilt his cock to the side, nestling your nose between the space where firmness ends and softness begins. Anakin sucks in a breath. He always forgets how sensitive he is down there. With your hand still working up and down his cock, you draw your tongue over the top of his velvety sack. You’re helpless to your own infatuation with him. You can’t help but breathe deeply, storing the strong and comforting scent of his musk in your memory for the weeks when you’re apart. Encompassed with the urge to have even more of him, you open your mouth. The heavy weight of one of his balls rests on your tongue, earning you a lovely little “fuck,” from under Anakin’s breath.

Your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, spreading the never-ending ooze of pre-cum around and down his length. You hollow your cheeks before releasing him with a pop. You press an open-mouthed kiss to the other side because they both need an equal amount of attention. You flatten your tongue around the curve of him, molding your mouth to the shape of his balls. With his entire sack now in your mouth, Anakin is helpless and you, too, feel the need to be filled. He’s squirming and mumbling your praise. Thank you, Maker, that feels so good, and fuck, sweetheart.

You release his fruit from your mouth, only to continue kissing him. There’s no part of his balls that goes untouched. Your tugs on his cock become lazier and sloppier as you focus all of your attention on his sack. The softness of the papery skin, the salty, musky taste, the overwhelming weight of them on your tongue. Your unabashed appreciation for his nature stirs something primal in Anakin.

“Hmph- fuck.” Anakin forgets your instructions and touches your hair, pushing it out of your face. He’s too drunk on your mouth and your hand to remember anything you said before worshiping his balls. “Angel, please, can I fuck you?”

You look up at Anakin with foggy eyes, practically intoxicated with his scent. You remove your hand from his dick to take off your shirt and pants. “No, Ani. You don’t get to fuck me. But I will ride your cock. Off,” you gesture to his loose tunic. Anakin nods and removes the last of his clothing.

Once you’re standing bare in front of him, his length lurches toward you. His heart never ceases to race when he sees the entire beauty of your body displayed in front of him. You are pure art.

You straddle his lap, resting your hands on his broad shoulders for support. His dick lays between your wet seam and you begin to grind. You brush Anakin’s hair out of his face, tucking the curls behind his ears. You lean down to give him a soft kiss. “You can touch me, Ani.”

Like a shot, Anakin’s hands are around your waist, aiding in your movements over his cock. The friction against your clit sends you ablaze. Anakin drops his lips to your collarbone, leaving butterfly kisses until he reaches the center of your clavicle. He then kisses up your neck and over your jaw, crooning against you, heavy breaths tickling your skin. You slip your hand between the two of you to guide him into your cunt. As your warm walls envelop his tip, you hold there for one, two, three seconds before slowly sinking down on him.

“Shit, baby-”

You want to whimper at the stretch and sigh at the fullness so they come out as one pleading noise. Finally, Anakin thinks. Your demeanor has shifted. But then you’re rocking yourself on him, fingers twirling around the ends of his hair and there you go pulling again. Anakin groans your name, gripping your hips with a bruising strength.

You tug his head to the side, his roots stinging with a little pain and a lot of pleasure. It’s your turn to kiss his neck, although you’re nowhere near as gentle. You capture his skin between your teeth and suck before soothing your tongue over the reddening skin. You raise your hips up so his length is nearly at your entrance and pause once again to admire your boy. His blue eyes are dark in the dim light, his golden tan skin is flush with sweat, and you could just melt because he’s so damn pretty.

You sit back down on his cock with a loud slap when your thighs hit each other. “Yes, Ani! Ngh, your cock feels so good. Y’make me feel so good, baby.” Anakin helps guide you up and down, taking the pressure off of you to continue at such a pace. You drop your head down to his shoulder and he can tell you’re getting tired. He wraps his arms around you and flips you down onto the couch. He wastes no time taking advantage of your pliant body, pushing your legs apart with both hands while he thrusts into you. The burn of your muscles being stretched is overpowered by the invisible touch on your clit.

Your head rolls along the cushion and a weak whimper falls from your lips. “Gods, Anakin. You know I- fuck-” the Force pressure on your bundle of nerves coupled with Anakin’s hard thrusts makes every thought you have scramble together. “S’unfair… when you—” your orgasm is nearing its ascent. Anakin is no longer holding your legs down and instead cages your head between his arms. He nuzzles his nose against yours, kissing your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“I know,” Anakin smirks. “You hate it when I use the Force on you to make you feel good. But I know you’re about to cum. Your cunt’s squeezing my cock like crazy, baby. Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck,” you whimper. How did the tables turn so quickly? Were you not the one who was in control? How did you lose your air of dominance in one fell swoop? You’re disappointed in yourself but it doesn’t matter. Not when your orgasm ripples through you and your back arches off of the couch. Not when Anakin continues to roll his hips into you, working you through your orgasm with his flesh hand now on your clit, easily ripping another one from you before you even have a chance to come down from the first. The pleasure meshes together into one dizzying spell, leaving you to chant Anakin’s name over and over.

“Music to my ears, baby,” Anakin groans, spurts of his warm seed spilling inside of you. He kisses you tenderly while stroking the bottom half of his cock to release his cum. When he draws himself from you, he pushes whatever is leaking out, back inside of you. “Stay.”

What remains on his fingers is taken into your mouth. You wrap your hand around his wrist and moan around him, savoring the salty and tanginess of his seed. Your eyes look strikingly innocent for someone who is sucking cum off of his fingers. Maker, he’s going to get worked up again. “That’s enough.” Anakin removes his fingers from you. You know he’s going to retrieve a warm cloth to clean you up, but you catch his hand.

“Ani?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He sees the disappointment across your face and sits down. He grabs the woven blanket on the back of the couch and lays it over you.

“Why…” you pause. Ugh, you hate this. “Why can I never stay dominant the whole time?”

Anakin rubs his thumb over your knee and sighs. He hates seeing you upset with yourself. You did nothing wrong. You might think you failed, but everything takes practice. “I think you can, baby. But many different things go into this. Not just the mentality, but the stamina. You get tired easier. I can’t blame you, though. Riding this dick can’t be easy.”

That makes you crack a smile. “Shut up,” you kick him playfully. “I’m being serious.”

“I know,” Anakin raises his hands in defense. “We just have to practice, sweetheart. That’s all. But honestly, baby? I just think you like to be taken care of more. And that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want me to… be different?”

Anakin almost seems insulted with that question. He leans down to give you a reassuring kiss. “Never. I love you just the way you are.”

i hope you enjoyed the ending and weren't disappointed by it. i promise i'll try to write a totally dom!reader and sub!ani fic. emphasis on try.

◂ anakin masterlist ▸ main masterlist

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #sub!anakin #sub!anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x afab!reader

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 2 months

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just out of curiosity – why do you like sukugo??

i've just never seen any of the accounts i follow/my mutuals celebrate this pairing so i'm really curious!

:))))))))) i smiled so wide getting this ask anon. PLS DON’T BE ALARMED just take my hand and let me tell you abt two deeply violent homoerotic men….

okay so when it comes to sukugo i just. ADORE their dynamic and relationship. it’s one of my favorites in the entire manga and i truly think akutami COOKED with it . not only the shinjuku fight itself (which is, ofc, what sold me on the ship) but also the foreshadowing beforehand!!! like sukuna telling gojo that he’ll be the first one he kills…. the two of them making the same kind of pose in their respective volume covers (vol. 4 & 14….. another parallel which is even more devastating when you remember that the number four is associated with death in japan)….. both of them being referred to as ”the strongest.”

i actually didn’t pick up on a lot of it until we got to shinjuku!! but i just think akutami teased at their importance to each other so well and so early on.

WITH THAT BEING SAID . their dynamic. their parallels. yes. they’re both the strongest and the most isolated and those two things are synonymous. it ties into one of the most central themes of jjk that equates absolute strenght to absolute solitude — it’s a kind of curse. a curse and a blessing. and they both have it.

the main difference is that gojo knows what it’s like to be understood and loved — but sukuna doesn’t. so he can’t feel lonely. he’s never known what it’s like to not be alone. but gojo has!!! gojo has felt love and felt what it’s like to be understood, and when geto died a part of him died too. he’ll always be lonely. he’s the loneliest character in the series. and when he looks at sukuna he sees the exact same isolation that’s plagued him since the moment he was born. so what does he do about it?

he tries to teach sukuna about love.

^ and THAT’S . the most delicious dynamic ever. i take no criticism. i’ll die on the hill that this concept and their dynamic is one of the absolute highlights of jjk. it’s so GOOD. it’s so insanely good. gojo wants to teach sukuna about love/cure him from his solitude by killing him. and vice versa. it’s inherently violent and inherently tender and it makes me INSANE. to me that’s the greatest appeal of sukugo!!!! violence as tenderness is a trope very near and dear to my heart (and also VERY frequently associated w queer subtext in media…. just putting that out there……) and they do it so good. they have a blast killing each other.

also i just NEED to say how much i love the ”teach you about love” line. it’s one of my favorites in the manga and akutami utilizes it so well!! he repeats it over and over as foreshadowing and to build up the sukugo dynamic. the final reveal that gojo is ”the one who will teach [sukuna] about love” made me weep (even though it was so obvious)…. it’s just so deeply. idk. it just says so much about gojo as a character :(( the fact that he wanted to teach sukuna about love. i’ve seen some people who think that part is ooc but i disagree completely!! gojo has never concerned himself w the morals of others. not really. toji kills riko but gojo still has a respect for him and allows him to say his final words. he never hated geto despite his crimes. he supports yuji fully no matter how many people die because of him. etcetc. same with all his students.

gojo looks at sukuna and sees someone who is just as alone as he is. so deeply, deeply alone. him wanting to change that is not ooc in the slighest because that’s quite literally what drives gojo as a character:

he’s just such a genuinely good person at his core. and it coexists with the way he sometimes disregards morality. this is a hot take but i genuinely think gojo’s character blossomed fully in his battle with sukuna….. i don’t see him as ooc in it at all. he genuinely wanted to reach sukuna!! he knew he was the only one who could even hope to do so. and he tried his best.

and, i would argue that he succeeded.

SEGWAY TIMEEEEEEEEE LET’S GO. okay so let’s talk abt one of my favorite panels in the jjk manga, the panel that solidified sukugo as one of my favorite pairings Of All Time:

(two diff translations bc i love them both :3)

THIS. wow. wow. wow. i could talk abt this panel alone for hours and hours but i’ll try to be coherent……

there’s just? so much meaning to be found here??? for both of them????? not only is it a fundamental moment for gojo — being praised and acknowledged and accepted as himself rather than the strongest — but it’s also proof that gojo did reach sukuna!!! he’ll remember him forever. sukuna will never fully be entirely isolated because even millenia into the future he’ll still remember gojo. gojo nestled his way into sukuna’s heart.

and that’s just . so romantic isn’t it???? so beautiful???????? this is the culmination of gojo’s efforts; the most genuine expression we’ve ever seen on sukuna’s face. he actually looks happy.

i cried seeing that panel btw 😭😭 not a joke!! i was already crying when i started chapter 236 bc i knew how it’d end but this panel (+ the one w geto cheering gojo on in his cult leader fit) made me SOB. not exaggerating. i’ve never cried so much reading a manga… T_T

so!!!! yeah. i just love sukugo. their dynamic is so interesting and beautiful and i can never get enough of it. sometimes i love it more than stsg… don’t tell geto that though……..

#i also really love the idea of sukuna getting seduced by a lanky gay guy #but that’s besides the matter.#TYSM FOR ASKING ANONNN ILY #i love talking abt these silly guys #i miss them :((((#ask tag ✩#sukugo

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bluesnsfw · 1 year

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Obey your Master

For everyone who is so damn thirsty for Genshin men, today’s post will be featuring Pantalone, on request from a certain someone. Enjoy ;)

18+ content Dom Pantalone x Sub fem!reader Including: Slave - Master, BDSM, choking

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You wake up, slowly opening your eyes to see a man towering over you, with that signature kind smile you see every day. You look into his eyes, as you feel something around your wrists, you can’t seem to move them apart. You realise they’re tied to the headboard of the bed you slept on. Your clothes gone too, while Pantalone stands there smiling over you. That signature kind smile he has on his face will never betray his true desires. He stands there menacing, “Good morning, darling” he says to you as he stands there, smiling. You look bad at him “Good morning,...”

“...Master”

Pantalone chuckles a little, clearly satisfied that you hadn’t forgotten his titles after your rest. “Look at you, so pretty for me”. You gulp, looking down slightly, moving your eyes over his body. He still has his usual outfit on for his fatui matters, but then you realise.

No pants

It is quite clear what he wants, his cock standing up, he opens his eyes slightly. “Like what you see” he says, the kind smile has changed to a grin. His eyes slightly visible, he glares at you, menacingly, you know he owns you. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in this situation. His cocks stands up as he leans over you, pushing your head back by your throat. You have your legs closed, rubbing together, this whole situation making you hot. You can’t breathe with him closing your airholes. Your mind is getting slightly dizzy as Pantalone follows your face expression, the choking almost like a painkiller, your legs loosen up as he places his other hand on your knee, pulling your legs apart. “Good little slave that you are.” he smiles again, your feel dizzy as he’s choking you until he moves his hand. You gasp for air, coughing a little. He places his cock against your hole, “You ready little slave of mine?” he says, lustfully, that menacing smile still on his face. “Y- yes” you answer, you feel how hot your body is, your pussy dripping wet off the way he touches you so roughly, he clearly knows what he wants. “You sure?” he says, pressing the head of his cock against your hole, “It seems like I didn’t hear you right.”. You clearly made a mistake he doesn’t like, as now his hand is on your throat again, pressing your head back against the headboard. You try to speak: “Y- yes... master”. “Good” he says, before he thrusts his cock deep inside you, almost making you scream how rough he handles you. You almost believe he has no intention to care about your feelings, as he handles you as if you’re just there to serve him. He starts pounding quickly, smiling again, his eyes meeting yours, he looks so menacing above you, your hands tied together above you head, maybe that’s why you keep coming back. His voice drives you insane each and every time, and the way his hands touch your body makes hot to your core. The way he handles you so roughly, is the only thing you ever wanted but never knew before meeting him. He grunts slightly as he stares into your eyes, fucking you so roughly, his hand still around your throat, squeezing lightly but not enough to make you lightheaded again. You stare back at him, when he gives you a hard thrusts that makes you scream, the way he pleasures you, you love it. He keeps smiling, “You’re so good for me darling” he says as he keeps going, roughly, you feel his cock moving along your sensitive walls, you feel him pounding inside you, with his cock kissing your cervix. You scream, you whine, you moan, and he’s enjoying every single second of it. You can see it in his eyes, you are really his favourite. You smile slightly, out of pleasure and out of satisfaction. “Smiling now are we” he says, in such a soft voice, such a lustful voice, it only turns you on more. You feel a feeling building up that you know all to well as he squeezes your neck more, almost punishing you for showing him an emotion. Punishing you for making him feel more than just lust, punishing you for him wanting you to be more to him than just his sextoy. His cock grinding against your swollen walls, rough, fast, just how you like it. Your clit swollen, he rest his hand on there, rubbing it slightly, you feel the feeling building, you feel yourself getting dizzy with his hand on your throat, you feel yourself getting lightheaded. The rubbing, the teasing, the fucking, it drives you to your high. Pantalone sees this all to clearly, he knows you longer than today. “You don’t get to cum...” he takes his hand of your clit and pounds even harder, the feeling keeps building up, even though you’re trying to hold it back.

You could never not obey to your masters desires.

“You don’t cum until I say you can, little slave” he commands again, you try to nod slightly as you’re moaning softly, getting closer to your orgasm with every thrust. He stares at you, looking in your eyes which are half closed, he loosens his grip slightly making sure you don’t pass out. You take a deep breath, gasping for air slightly, as he keeps pounding into you. His grunts getting heavier, as is his breathing. He tightens his grip again bringing you back to your previous state, you’re getting dizzy again, lightheaded, the feeling keeps building. He can see it, he can see it in your eyes.

You’re about to cum.

“You may cum” Pantalone says, not denying you the feeling any longer. You don’t have to hold back anymore, you feel your release, your mind half gone, so close to passing out. He feels you tighten around him as you cum on his fat cock, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps grinding against your walls, rougher than ever, he moves his hands to your hips. You have your room to breathe now, as you get back to your senses, you hear him grunt slightly, murmuring “Oh archons..., so fucking tight” he meets your eyes, that same menacing smile on his face. He grabs onto your hips tightly, moving you towards him as he thrusts oh so deep inside you. You scream out, it hurts a little, but you love it. The pleasure, the fucking, you love it, you scream out, moaning, doing everything your master likes. Pantalone moans slightly, grunts loudly, as he cums too, so deep inside you, feeling you up entirely with all of his hot sticky cum. His head thrown back slightly, still looking down at your face, making sure you still look at him. “You truly are my favourite slave, darling” he coos before pulling out, cum dripping out your used cunt, leaking all over the bedsheets. He looks down at your pussy, “What a good cumslut you are for me, so hungry for all of it” he says moving to your side, placing his half hard dick in your face. “Lick it clean, like a good girl.” You look at it, and you give it a slight lick. He’s not close enough, thus he moves closer, putting it in your mouth. He grabs the back of your head, and pushes your head down on his dick. “Give it a good clean now” Pantalone commands you, and you comply, following each and every wish of your master. Your tongue moving all over his dick as he moans out slightly, “G- good girl” he moans, “Good cumslut, you love the taste don’t you” you suck harder as he says this, you love the taste. He’s always right about it. His dick is getting slightly harder in your mouth as he pulls out of your mouth a string of saliva hanging from his tip to your mouth. Oh how sloppy you suck his dick, he loves it, he loves the way you make him feel good. The way your body feels so good on his cock. “Good girl” he says, looking at his cock, giving it a little jerk “Cleaned it really well...” he smiles at you, his eyes closed once again, it’s that signature smile he always has. “I got business to attend to now, you can have your breather.”

“You better be ready again when I come back.”

He takes his leave, your hands still tied to the headboard, it seems like he has forgotten to untie you. If only that was his intention. You lay there, tied to the bed, your legs open the cum leaking out of your pussy. Drool leaking from your mouth, a little bit of cum in the corner. Oh how hungry you are for his cock, for his cum, for him to fill you up again.

You clearly can’t wait for him to come back.

#pantalone x reader #pantalone smut #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader

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dangopango00 · 3 months

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After Last Night (2)

Waking up with him after a hookup

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 |

FAT/LBC men x gn reader (Ayn and cael)

CW: Suggestive, cael (sorry i like him i just happen to also like hating on him), ok genuinely cael but its the fact that in his blurb MC is kind of your daughter

A/N: Ayn is my fave but i dint do him in part one to keep me motivated to finish part two 💀💀 mind games also im acc so obsessed with step parent reader wtf thats so cute

more utc

AYN / AI YIN (艾因）

- SCENARIO: Ayn is very aloof and he doesn’t drink so he’s not sleeping with anyone he doesn’t know well; you two are very close. You’re in the music club and trying to pick up/get better at an instrument and you pestered Ayn into giving you tips until you became so close that he basically acted as your tutor. Tbh you’re probably already in a situationship and you’ve probably kissed a few times but nothing crazy, you’ve never pushed it that far— well that is until last night. You hadn’t seen each other in a long time just because you were both busy and Ayn missed you so he had you come to his hideout and well shit happened

- He wakes up first but is incredibly out of it like there’s still drool dribbling out of his mouth and he’s only really half awake; he kinda looks dead in his stupor

- He’d probably just pull you closer, lay on you and go back to sleep to be so honest; he can order takeout for the two of you later

- He tangles himself with you like unbrushed hair. His legs and arms are all wrapped around you and he’s trying to get as close to you as possible and his breath is tickling your neck with how much he nudges his head against you and gives you a quick kiss before he goes back to sleep

- His bedhead usually isn’t messy because he doesn’t move a lot in his sleep but after last night his hair is more messy than usual because of how much he’s pushing his head against you lol

- Even if you wake up he won’t let you get up. Go back to bed, he missed you; he just kisses you until you give up but if you’re hungry he’ll order something from his phone

- Likes if you trace parts of his body while you’re laying down like his collarbones or running your thumb down his chest. Keep it below the head though, otherwise the ticklish feeling will bother him while he’s trying to sleep (he’s such a princess 🙄)

- Is actually pretty chill about the whole thing; it was only a matter of time in his opinion and will be a little confused if you’re super embarrassed because you’ve already made out before it’s not that crazy

- He thinks the situation is pretty simple honestly he’s just gonna invite you on dates and confess which does admittedly take a bit of time because he wants to do something special and you’re a little nervous when he doesn’t confess or anything but when he does it makes the wait 100% worth it

CAEL / YE XUAN (叶瑄）

- SCENARIO: OKAY. I’ve thought about this one deeply because Cael is like I think a confirmed virgin so he would have to be suuuperr close with you to want to hook up. So in my delusional little head you are a very old friend of his who helped him basically raise MC. You weren’t formally her step parent but you helped out where you could and ended up becoming close with the two. At first Cael was just grateful to have you for help and as a dear friend but as time went on he started to notice you more and more. You lived together and seeing you do random domestic things or just normal mundane things like doing laundry or gardening or sth was driving him insane. It just built up and randomly one day when you were getting ready for the day he suddenly kissed the back of your neck and confessed and things just escalated

- You wake up first and Cael is just lying so peacefully. He’s never felt more refreshed to be honest

- His bedhead is a little messy but it’s not really noticeable except for the bangs and he snores but he doesn’t really drool, doesn’t move much either; moves in between long intervals

- You run your fingers through his hair and kiss his forehead as he sleeps and you notice him crack a smile (he woke up a few minutes after you but he wanted to see what you’d do while he slept so he could tease you later)

- He loves it when you hold his face in your hands. His cheeks heat up and he has a small smile as he opens his eyes; such a small form of affection makes him feel so warm inside and he can’t help it

- He’d take your hands in his and kiss them then leading you to the kitchen so you can make breakfast together

- After all. That his infatuation is boosted like x10 like he starts drawing you just doing normal activities, thinking about you while in the middle of a battle among many other things

- However, he hasn’t slept with you since that night because he’s really worried

- He doesn’t really know how nor does he think he should pursue a committed relationship with you because tbh he could die at any moment and he has enough responsibility as is; it sounds harsh but he doesn’t want to have to worry about you and vice versa. It’ll take a lot of convincing and persistence to get him to realize that no matter what you’ll be by his side and that you want to take care of him and MC too— that you will always care about him no matter how much he distances himself

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centralperkchenford · 9 months

Note

Early dating chenford have there real first kiss on New Year’s Eve

Okay so I changed this a bit and made it their first kiss in front of their friends which ties into the other prompt I used! Honestly the Rookie timeline is so messed up I’m not sure when they started dating, so I just so one month. Also in my mind they already slept together 🤭

I hope you like it anon I know I changed it 🫣. But I had a vision and when I have one I run with it.

Early dating chenford have their real first kiss on New Year’s Eve (first kiss in front of their friends)

Chenford + any version of them successfully hiding that they're dating; anyone/everyone being shocked to find out.

Tim and Lucy spend New Year’s Eve together at Angela’s house and when the lights go down they kiss and then that leads to their friends finding out they are dating.

I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

December 29th, 2022

“Tim.” Says Angela coming up besides him. “What are you doing for New Year’s and New Year’s Eve?” Tim glances at her and then his eyes scan the station for Lucy, she’s talking to Aaron just across the station smiling and laughing and he smile softly to himself. His plans for New Year’s involved Lucy and kissing her under the star in his backyard.

“I’m not sure yet why?” He asks her. Angela grins at him a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Wesley and so are having a get together to watch the ball drop and you are coming.” She says and Tim groans a little. “And I don’t want to hear any excuses.” She says jabbing at his chest. He rolls his eyes and then his eyes find Lucy once again.

“Is Lucy coming?” He blurts our before he can stop himself. Angela gives him a weird look but nods.

“Yes. If she wants to.” Angela replies grinning at him.

Tim sighs loudly as if being at a party all night was going to ruin his night. (As long as Lucy is there he would be fine). “Why does she get a choice and I don’t?” He grumbles. Angela just laughs and walks away.

***

December 30th, 2022

“Did Angela rope you into her New Year’s eve party?” Lucy asks him tracing her finger down his arm.

He nods and she stops her motions and lays her head on his shoulder. “I was kind of looking forward to a quiet evening.” She admits and Tim is surprised by that. He would think she would be begging him to go to the party.

“We don’t have to go.” He says kissing the top of her head. “Angela is a nuisance but she will understand.” Lucy lifts her head up to look up at him.

“That’s sweet but Angela made it very clear that you are going and I don’t think you want to piss her off.”

No he doesn’t. Despite everything Angela could be very scary. “Do you want to go?” He asks searching her face for uncertainty.

“Yes.” She replies as she lays her head back on his shoulder. “I do because you will be there and I think I would go anywhere with you.” Tim kisses the top of her head, he would go anywhere with her too.

“Okay we will go.” He says. “But we try and escape early.” Lucy lifts her head up again and gives him a kiss maneuvering herself so that she’s on his lap.

“That’s no fun Tim.” She says playfully. “I want to kiss you when the ball drops.”

“In front of everyone?” He asks her with raised eyebrows. “When we are technically still in a secret relationship?”

“Or you know off to the side.” She says and Tim kisses her softly. “It will be fun no matter what.”

And Tim has a feeling she’s right about that.

***

December 31st, 2022

They both have to work on New Year’s Eve and Tim keeps throwing glances at Lucy who is talking to Celina across the station.

She had been throwing hits out to him on what she is wearing tonight. Except that’s all he got were hints and it was driving him insane.

“Just tell me what you are wearing so I can match with you. He had said on the way into work. Lucy had rolled her eyes at him. “It’s a New Year’s Eve party Tim we don’t need to match besides if we matched wouldn’t that give our relationship away?” She said.

And he supposes she has a point but still, it would be nice to at least know what she’s wearing. They went about the day and the 5:00 came and Lucy met Tim by his truck. She glances around the garage and then stands on tippy toes and kisses him. “Pick me up?” She asks and he nods.

“I will see you at 8.” He says and she throws him a grin over her shoulder as she walks to her car.

***

Tim knocks on Lucy’s door at 8 sharp, and she opens the door right away. She is in a short glittery silver dress that has a cut out on the side. She’s wearing heels to match and her curly hair is cascading down her back.

Tim’s mouth falls open and she grins as she gets closer to him so she can give him a kiss.

“Was it worth the wait?” She mumbled again his lips. He nods enthusiastically and wraps an arm around her waist. They stand there for a few seconds before Lucy is tugging him to the elevators.

“Come on we don’t want to be late.” She says and he follows after her, licking his lips as he realizes the dress fits her curves perfectly.

He takes her hand once they are outside and she squeals in surprise when he backs her up against his truck.

“You look beautiful. We should skip the party.” He mutters into her ear. She laughs as his hands slip to the her back, placing them just above her ass.

“It’s a little late for that.” She says looking up at him, her eyes sparkling. “And it would be weird if we both missed the party.”

She’s right and he knows it so he reluctantly lets her go and she opens the door and slides in before catching her finger on his jacket collar. “However after the party you can your way with me.”

Tim groans at her words. It is about to be a long night.

***

They arrive at Angela’s and Lucy goes ahead of Tim. He watches her from behind and then tries not to pull her to him so her back is to his chest. Angela opens the door and raises her eyebrows at them but doesn’t say anything. She just ushers them in gushing at how beautiful Lucy looks. She gives him a sly smile over her shoulder and then follows Angela into the kitchen where she hugs everyone.

Tim usually doesn’t like parties like this he feels awkward and uncomfortable even if he knows everybody. But tonight as he watches his girlfriend float around the room smiling and laughing as she talks to everyone. He realizes it’s not that bad.

“So Tim.” Says Nyla coming up from behind him grinning at him. “Who are you going to kiss at midnight?”

Tim looks over at Lucy who is perched on a chair, a glass of wine in her hand as she talks to Celina.

“Uh.. no one.” Says Tim and Nyla is still grinning at him. “Not even Lucy?” Tim nearly chokes on his beer as he turns to give Nyla a wild eyed look.

“Why would I kiss Lucy?” He asks. Nyla shrugs her shoulders. “She’s the only single person here besides you.”

Tim grins to himself and then schools his expression to shrug at Nyla and she just grins at him some more before she walks away towards Lucy no doubt to ask her the same thing.

He sighs and walks to the kitchen to grab another beer and just as he’s opening it Lucy comes in.

“Everyone keeps asking who I’m kissing at midnight.” She says.

Tim snorts a little. Who are you going to kiss at midnight?” He asks her teasingly. She rolls her eyes at him and the walks over and kisses him hard.

“I’ll give you one guess.” She tells him. Tim pretends to think about it, and he scratches his head.

“Hmm. Let’s see Aaron?” He asks her and her mouth tugs up into a big smile.

Lucy laughs loudly and then covers her mouth. “Hmmm. Wrong.” She says.

He pretends to think again his fingers trailing up her exposed skin at her side. “Me?” He says quietly and she nods giving him another kiss.

“I’ll see you at midnight.” She says and then backs away, turns around and leaves the kitchen.

***

It’s five minutes to midnight and the living room is full as they watch the TV. Lucy is by his side not quite touching but close enough so he can pull her in.

Four minutes

Tim glances at Lucy who is grinning big and he realizes that it didn’t matter where he spent his New Year’s Eve as long as he’s with Lucy he would be happy.

Three minutes

They have only been dating a month and even in that little time he knew this is was a forever kind of thing and the three little words kept creeping into his mind but he knew it was too soon.

Two minutes

Wesley starts to dim the lights as the ball gets lower to the ground. He has always found the ball drop to be ridiculous especially since this was just a rerun of something that happened three hours ago. But then he looks a Lucy and she’s still grinning big and yeah it’s worth it.

One minute

The lights are almost all the way out, the TV the only thing lighting up the room. Tim tugs Lucy closer to his side and she comes easily.

Thirty seconds

Twenty

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

January 1st, 2023

“Happy New Year’s!” Everyone shouts and the room goes completely dark as Lucy reaches up to kiss him. He kisses her her hard as he pulls her so close there is no space between them. All he tastes is her. All he smells is her and he knows if he could do this for the rest of his life he happily would.

There’s a loud cough behind them and they both break apart. Lucy blushes as Tim looks around the room staring at all their friends.

“Uh…” He says scratching behind her neck. “Lucy and I are dating.” There’s an awkward and shocked silence as everyone looks at each other and then back at them. Lucy shimmies right back into Tim’s side burying her head into his chest. Tim glances around the room his eyes landing on Angela who is grinning at him.

“Finally!” Angela shouts and the room erupts in laughter. Tim grins down at Lucy who grins back and tugs him towards the door.

“Let’s go home.” She says and Tim follows after because well he would go anywhere with her.

#chenford #the rookie #chenford fanfic #tim bradford #tim x lucy #lucy chen #chenford fic #anon answered

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twinsarekeepers · 1 year

Text

Let me preface this by saying, I’m a pre-med student who works in a psychology lab as a research assistant and has also worked in a doctor’s office with actual patients. A lot of my opinions about this ending are informed by that aspect of myself, but that does not mean I don’t understand the incredible weight and horror of Joel’s decision either. I am also a writer and the narrative of a parent’s love being that destructive is so compelling.

However, it’s not more important to me than making sure people know how egregiously terrible the Fireflies are. Because the logic that something can morally outweigh informed consent is what has led to some truly horrific, catastrophic events in our REAL human history. Henrietta Lacks, the Tuskegee study, and the CIA’s fake vaccination drive in Pakistan come to mind immediately for me. These are all events that I encourage everyone to learn about.

Putting all that aside for now, objectively, Jerry Anderson was stupid and wrong in every way possible. You never ever want to completely destroy the subject you are working on, ESPECIALLY if that is the only one you have. Because wtf are you going to do if your experiment doesn’t work? You killed the one source! Literally anything would’ve been better than KILLING ELLIE?? Killing her should be the very last resort after exhausting every other possible avenue, which they didn’t. (Before someone tells me that I need to suspend my disbelief … no. The whole show is rooted in realism and that this is a possibility SCIENTIFICALLY … so I’m going to think about it with my science brain, I’m sorry!)

Now onto the part that I know y’all are going to get your panties in a twist about, Ellie herself and her capacity to give consent. Which in my opinion, coming from someone whose literal job it is to get informed consent, she did not have.

Bodily autonomy and agency is obviously very important but you would never let your child run into oncoming traffic because “oh, it’s their body and I’d be violating their autonomy and agency if I physically held them back!!” Like no. That’s a child that doesn’t fully grasp what they are doing or what is going on around them so you as the adult must make the decision to not let them harm themselves.

Ellie is a slew of red flags to someone who would be searching for participants for an experiment. For one, Ellie is a child. Getting informed consent from a child is already hard because their brains are not developed enough to fully grasp and understand what they’d be agreeing to. Two, Ellie has gone through immense trauma and is suffering from the worst case of survivor’s guilt to possibly ever exist. She literally feels like the only way to compensate for her loss is to die. She is the definition of passively suicidal. The way I would rule her out of a study so fast and send her links to every helpline I know. And yes, I know that she can never actually get the help she needs. But in my opinion, she is not in any way able to give consent and Jerry and nurses should’ve been very aware of that.

So, the fact that the Fireflies are just medically inept, and on top of that, didn’t care to get consent, and even if they had, it wouldn’t matter because Ellie is not in a position to be making that kind of decision, makes them very, very wrong.

Does that make Joel right? No. Because Joel wasn’t thinking about any of that. He believed that the Fireflies knew what they were doing, that they had a shot at making a cure and he also knew what Ellie would want (again, she’s still not a position to give consent but JOEL DOESN’T KNOW THAT BECAUSE HE’S NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL) and he still chose to save Ellie over … the entire world. And then he lied to her about it.

(And the lie was to protect her emotionally because he knows she takes on so much blame and he doesn’t want to cause even MORE damage and pile on top of that insane survivor’s guilt … but lying to a teenager is never the way to go, they always know).

TLDR: it is very, very complicated!

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and ellie #jerry anderson

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monatice · 4 months

Text

Answer - Park Chanyeol

Summary: It is time for Chanyeol to leave for the military. He has one last concert before leaving and you are backstage. As he asked you something he got interrupted by the staff to go on stage. He was anxiously waiting for a response but when he returned you were gone. Is that the answer or does he misunderstand?

Park Chanyeol was now almost 30 years old. It was time for him to go to the military. Sure, he would go but he had hoped that the time wouldn’t come especially since he had met you four years ago. But here he was signing the papers for his military enlistment.

As he walked out of it and into the cold winter night, he wondered how his relationship with you would continue. He would never let you go but it would be tough months. Of course, he would have some days off, but they were also rare.

You were his girlfriend and he always told everyone one day he would propose, but now years later he still hasn’t done it. Chanyeol always waited for the right time, but somehow it was never the right time. There was always something that made him step back and not propose. And now? Military enlistment was just around the corner. He had no time left to do it. Only today right before the last concert with him in it. He had to do it and this time he would.

Two hours later you were backstage with Chanyeol, and he was nervous. You were surprised about it. Chanyeol was never really nervous before any stage. You walked over to him, put your arms around him and cuddled on his chest. “Why are you so nervous today? Because of your military enlistment?” you asked.

Chanyeol looked into your eyes. “No, something else to be honest.” Chanyeol was studying your face and you wondered what was bothering him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you stroked his cheek.

“Yes... (Y/N)? I know that this is not the perfect place and moment to do it. But I am running out of time to do this.” Chanyeol started, making you scared of what would come next. “Will you marry me?” Chanyeol asked.

You looked shocked at him and released his arms. It scared Chanyeol a little, but before you could give him an answer, his manager pulled him away from you to go on stage. You were so shocked that he wanted to marry you that he now thought you didn’t want him.

Chanyeol stood on stage, now more nervous than ever. Not only because today was the day, he’d say goodbye to his fans for a few years, but also because he had no idea if you pulled away because you didn’t want him or because it was something else. It was driving Chanyeol insane, and the members noticed.

It felt like an eternity as the concert finally ended and Chanyeol said his farewell to fans for now. As he went backstage, he was looking for you, but he couldn’t find you.

“Man, why are you so nervous today?” Baekhyun asked.

“I asked her to marry me. I was interrupted before I got an answer and now, she is gone. I think I just blew my relationship with her because I proposed unromantically here.” Chanyeol stroked through his hair.

“I don’t believe that. It doesn’t matter where you propose, women who love you, accept any proposal they get. Call her, maybe she wants to talk with you somewhere else.” Baekhyun suggested.

Chanyeol took his phone and nervously dialled your number.

“Yes?” your voice rang through the phone.

“You weren’t watching the stage?” he asked.

“I was, I left when you made your speech to the fans. Meet me at our place at the river,” you told him.

“Okay, give me thirty minutes.” Chanyeol ended the phone call. “Now wish me, luck guys.”

“Whatever the result will be, we are at the dorm, Chanyeol.” Junmyeon clapped on his back.

Chanyeol saw you standing under the streetlight while the snow was falling. He walked over to you, hands in his jacket. You met his eyes and smiled. “You were faster than thirty minutes.” you looked into his brown eyes and saw sadness.

“You don’t want to marry me, don’t you?” Chanyeol looked away to the river, expecting a breakup.

You smiled and walked over to him, cupping his face. “Park Chanyeol. Look at me,” you told him. He met your eyes. “I don’t know why you think that I wouldn’t marry you.” you smiled, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “Chanyeol, I love you and I wanted to meet you here because I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed here. Ask me again.” you smiled, looking into his eyes.

“Will you marry me? Once I return from the military, will you be my wife?” Chanyeol still had his hands in his pockets while the snow was falling on his hair and yours.

“Yes, Chanyeol. I want to marry you.” you smiled.

Chanyeol started to grin and sobbed. “I was so scared you would say no now.” Chanyeol looked over to the water, hoping you wouldn’t see the tears.

“How could I say no to the person that my future evolves around? How could I say no to the person I love more than anything in my life?” you admitted.

Chanyeol looked back at you, not caring about the shiny eyes that were now emphasised by the streetlight above you. “I love you (Y/N). I am sorry I didn’t do it more romantically, but I am soon leaving, and I wanted an answer before that.” he finally took out his hands and cupped your face, looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing around here. “You make me the happiest man.” he grinned, and his eyes showed all the love he had for you.

“And you make me the happiest woman.” you leaned in and kissed him slowly. Chanyeol put his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, kissing you back.

He broke the kiss and smiled. “You will get a ring later,” he whispered.

“Chanyeol?” you looked into his eyes and stroked the hair at the back of his head.

“Yes, my love?” he smiled, stroking your cheek.

“Will you marry me before you leave, please? We could be married on paper and have a big one after you come back,” you suggested.

Chanyeol smiled. “If you want that, I am the last person to say no.”

“Yes, I want to be your wife before you leave.”

“Then I will arrange something for us.” he kissed your forehead. “And once I am back, you’ll get the big wedding that you deserve.” Chanyeol looked at the water as he was holding you. “Now I cannot wait to come back home.” he beamed.

“I will be waiting for you at home. As your wife.” you looked over to the water as well.

Chanyeol hugged you tightly and hoped that the time in the military would be over as fast as possible, but at least he would leave as a married man. Married to the woman he had loved for many years and would love for many more years.

EXO Masterlist | @kbookshelf

#kbookshelf #k-labels #park chanyeol x reader #park chanyeol #exo #exo imagines #monatice creation

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lilyrizzy · 2 years

Note

“sorry just some insane hc’s about how in my head they have sex constantly lol and they both like, get off so much on like, daniel just coming up behind max in the kitchen to pull his sweats down and fuck him, max barely needing any prep bc they fuck so much” KILL ME!!! Ok this is sort of a prompt but pls feel free to ignore—I think this is literally soooo hot but I’m also like 👀 at taking it to another level where they do this even when they’re not on the best terms? Like in the middle of a days-long fight where they’ve barely said a word to each other (like about something silly like maybe max did something rly dangerous during a race and Daniel is upset bc he doesn’t know what he would do if max got hurt) but even still they need each other so much they fuck like that anyway,..maybe they go to bed mad at each other but Daniel can’t fall asleep bc his mind is racing so he wakes max up and just starts fucking him then let’s him go back to sleep….ok I’ll stop lol sorry :/

wow anon, your amazing brain. thoughts below the cut!

cw: free use, & ‘starting sex while one person is sleeping’ (i can never spell the fancy kink name for it lol sorry). also please please don't read if you think you won't like what those cw’s might mean

okay, so i can see this working especially if they have a 'free use' situation of max in place. and because they're both so horny for each other constantly, i think max is always free use, it's a 24/7 thing. they have their safe word or something that means they want to pause or stop or whatever, but other than that, max is daniel's for the taking.

(max definitley saw the title 'free use' in a porn vid or something they watched together and asked daniel 'what's that?' daniel explained, palms sweating bc he knew the moment max found out, he'd ask if they could do that, and daniel would be too weak for max to say no < side note lol, i think the porn they'd each watch alone vs together is such an interesting discussion point >)

and as you correctly stated, even when they're mad at each other they still need each other. so much. daniel made a dumb joke once, him in perth, max in monaco, that he was sleeping badly without max because he needed to be 'emptied,' before before bed and max just took that so seriously while simultaneously thinking it was the hottest thing ever and that it proved how well matched they were, bc he always slept better with daniels come inside him too :)

so going back to being mad, oops, yes, lets say max drove like an idiot and daniel is mad because its easier to let himself feel that than like, crushing fear, and this makes max get defensive and say shit he doesn't mean like, 'it is none of your buisness how i drive daniel, we are not on the same team anymore.' cue a lot of slammed doors and stony silence.

they've still not spoken and bed time is approaching. daniel is winding himself up by watching race highlights, and ofc its all about max's [insert dangerous race manouvere here, idk, i watch this sport for the fanfiction], and he's replaying the video over and over, while looping max's words over too in his head, 'none of your buisness,' and he thinks, you little shit, ill show you 'none of my buisness.' and is on his feet then to find max

who is brushing his teeth, meeting daniel's eyes in the mirror, and noticing theyre dark. thinks oh okay, good, lets sort this out, but says something bitchy onces he's spat out his toothpaste like, 'i thought you were sleeping on the sofa.' (fyi neither one of them has ever slept on the sofa, no matter how mad lol). then daniel is crossing the room, one hand curling around max's hip, the other on the back of his neck, pushing him down until his cheek is pressing against the bathroom counter. says something mean but kinda sexy like, 'i think you need reminding why i wanna keep you around enough to worry,' then like, pushes max’s pyjama bottoms down, swipes his fingers across max's hole, feeling he's still wet from the 'youre an idiot but i love you' sex they had right after the race and pushes two fingers in, 'who else is going to need it so bad they keep themselves open and ready for me, hmm?'

so then daniel fucks him, max’s hot pink face pressed against the cool tile, the slapping sound of daniel’s thrusts loud in the bathroom. max comes untouched when daniel calls him his ‘sl*t’ and says like, ‘what would i do if i didn’t have this tight little place to put my load each night?’ and then comes in him as if to prove a point but also to prove to himself that like, its okay. max can still take him bc max is still here.

sometimes thats enough. sometimes its not. lets say this time, max is being stubborn, because he knows this time he was actually in the wrong a little by being kinda mean to daniel back so he like, doubles down in his rightous anger. so daniel offers him a smile after, in the mirrow again, but max is ignoring him, just pulling his pyjama bottoms back up and shoving past him to get into bed.

and when they try to go to sleep like that, still pissed at each other, it just feels so wrong. daniel can't sleep for real now, not because of no sex, they had sex, but because he hates this. hates not talking, just looking at the hard line of max's back, where its usually the sweet curve of his tits he gets to see, max facing him, face smashed into the pillow as he snores.

so he’s whispering, ‘max?’ and not getting an answer. he doesnt know its bc max is stubborn or bc hes really asleep, but- but they’ve done this before so he knows its okay to push his pyjama bottoms down again, to groan a little seeing how max is shiny, sticky there. didnt clean himself up, didn’t let daniel do it with his tongue and daniel wants to fix that starts lapping at max softly until max is letting out little puffs of air, barely-there whimpers. then daniel is rubbing his dick along the crack of max’s ass, asking, ‘can i have you again, baby?‘ and max is pushing back against him which is answer enough.

this time, daniel holds him gently, spooned up right behind him, just grinding over his prostate until max is trembling, shaking in his arms so over stimulated. and right before max comes, he whines out, ‘i love you, i am sorry,’ and then daniel is coming too, into the warm clutch of max’s body and it’s okay again because max is here and safe and neither of them are mad anymore :)

#this is probably nothing like what you wanted and for that i appologise #i wanted to do kinktober so bad but brain is broken so this will have to do #though its not very sexy imo #max/daniel #fic #ask me things #thanks anon!#ps grammarly on my computer is broken so spelling error galore

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nightgoodomens · 3 months

Text

Ok last bunch of asks, I need a break after today 😂 Thanks for writing in!

I don’t think they will play Aziraphale and Crowley, NG isn’t stupid, neither anyone else who’s putting money into the show. They might shove them somewhere as background or some other role but not playing the two mains. Season 2 already got slapped for not the best plot and how Michael and David saved it with their chemistry. Nobody will try to replace them.

Also considering neither of them have a problem with dressing up as women, David already did for the Nanny part in the show, so to suddenly switch them for female partners would create a lot of backlash because of suggesting men shouldn’t do it.

Im not sure about AL but I wouldn’t be surprised if NG would pull GT into it unfortunately. DT shoves his whole family wherever he can.

Haha I have that person blocked and I don’t really like posting links where people are being muppets 😅

I was completely indifferent to both of them but fans were responsible for me starting to dislike them to be fair. I’m still mostly indifferent, I couldn’t care less about them, just comment if they do anything good/bad because people ask me, but after that they’re gone from my thoughts. I don’t think they deserve *hate*, but indifference or dislike based on their actions - everyone is allowed to make that basic decision for themselves yes. Fans really don’t help with their demands to love partners of idols and that’s in every fandom out there.

If they were to bond they would have bonded a long time ago and I wish they never started this whole wife thing because it only highlighted how much they don’t care about each other. The thing is, they shouldn’t be required to “bond”. Just because Michael and David fell for each other, it doesn’t mean the women must bond too. There is age and character difference between them, and I don’t think bonding over failed careers and depending on men and getting knocked up on the one night stand would be healthy. Georgia has her best friends, Anna could do with making friends her own age preferably away from the business.

No matter whether someone likes them or not, to expect them to be treated on the same level as Michael and David is insane. And it drives me insane when people think they have the talent to play female version of Crowley and Aziraphale. MS and DT have years of experience in the business and to compare them is a pure insult to them. They got in that business through their hard work too, not a famous surname supporting them.

You are NEVER required to love your idols’ partner/family. That’s just shit that fandoms come up with. Nobody in real world goes oh that actor is neat… oh no I need to love his whole family now!

AL and GT acting “careers” are based on famous surnames supporting them. If they were good someone else would have picked them up. I’m not going to pretend they’re good to be a good little fan according to the fandom. I’d rather be disliked in the fandom than lie to myself and others.

If someone wants to suck up to them, love them, that’s absolutely fine, but to expect others to do so is just a no.

When you think about it, knowing that any shit you post will be seen as iconic… and you don’t have much to show for yourself… well yeah. You’d be raiding on people loving you for simply having the famous surname. Imagine the world where you have to do nothing and people think you deserve the best roles and all the love and being called a queen. Neat. What a sweet life of privilege.

I think with her liking to put him down especially on his big days shows her insecurity. It’s never about him, it’s always about her on those days. It’s sad. I’m glad he now has MS who makes it all about him on those big days. And after too.

I hate those selfies tbf. It’s like… this is your moment to say damn my awesome man got an award. But no it’s “mine” and her holding it and making him take the selfie, or her staring into a camera and making him snuggle up to her for show to show where his place is. Bleh. If she was comfortable with who she is, she wouldn’t need to remind him of his place every time it’s supposed to be his happy day.

And I’m aware majority thinks those selfies are cute - good for them, I wish I thought that too, but they give me the creeps instead.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR #NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David

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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 years

Text

tell me how it got this way (ch.1)

pairing: jungkook x f.reader, hoseok x f.reader genre: fwb to lovers/friends to lovers, love triangle | non-idol!au, angst, smut, est. relationships rating: 18+, minors dni (for the finished fic) warnings: swearing, mentions of heavy drinking, mentions of hook-ups, hobi is kind of a dick, explicit smut in later chapters (will update when that comes up), yoongi is a snarky friend, jungkook is a fwb, i think that's it for now word count: ~6.2k (1st chapter) summary: once upon a time, hoseok was your best friend, until The Fight. now it's been 5 years and you're a successful writer with some supportive friends, a steady not-boyfriend, and an editor you love. but your past friendship isn't content to stay there. a/n: i started writing this way too long ago, had kind of given it up because it got Too Long for a onrshot. then picked it back up for a series of chapters, i hope you enjoy. i'm sorry about hobi in chapter 1 but i promise it gets better if you stick it out. thank you to @playmetheclassics for being a wonderful beta reader and to @ugh-yoongi & @hot-soop for always putting up with my bullshit (aka early versions of this). masterlist | next

Your phone beeps, letting you know a message has come in, but you know you’ve only got another couple minutes of focus, and you’re determined to get all your thoughts onto the page before the caffeine buzz wears off. It’s a bad habit, worrying more about getting the words onto the paper than how they actually come out, but you know at this point there’s really no hope you’ll change. Besides, as you tell your editor, isn’t it always better to have to polish something up than to have lost an idea entirely? He distinctly mumbled something about needing to find a field with more structure and left you alone, at least that time. At the end of the day, he isn’t going anywhere, and, really, you don’t want him to. Finding the right editor had been a long enough process as it was. There was no way you were going through that again.

As your fingers fly across the keyboard, desperately trying to keep up with your too-active imagination, your phone beeps again. It’s hard to tell if it’s a reminder for the message or if another message has come in. It doesn’t really matter. You aren’t going to look right now. There had been a whole chapter missing right in the middle of your latest work, and it was driving both you and Namjoon insane, for very different reasons. It wasn’t for lack of trying, it just wasn’t happening, and Namjoon wasn’t having it. But if you’ve told him once, you’ve told him hundreds of times. If he wants something forced, it isn’t going to sell the same as if he just gets off your ass for a second and lets you work. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that this is why the two of you work. He’s organized, structured, and likes deadlines, while also being able to keep the peace with nearly anyone. You, on the other hand, are not organized, don’t do well with structure, and feel like deadlines are the death to artistic creativity. Yes, as much as you hate to admit it, you need Namjoon.

Your thoughts are now drifting more than usual, and you figure it’s time to call it quits, at least for the moment. It’s getting late, and you know that you shouldn’t drink another cup of coffee to stay up until the early hours of the morning writing. But inspiration keeps flowing, and although you will never tell him, Namjoon is right. There’s a deadline coming up, meaning there needs to be a solid middle to the book tying everything together. You stretch your arms over your head and tilt your head to either side, trying to uncoil the tension in your body that always comes from sitting still for too long. It’s like this every time, and you make a mental note to schedule yourself a massage.

Almost as if it senses you want a break, your phone beeps again, and you guess it had been more than just a single message that came through. Namjoon is always giving you a hard time about not silencing your phone when you write. In your defense, the one time you had, he had actually needed to reach you urgently and nearly had a panic attack that you didn’t answer. Sometimes there was no winning.

You reach out to pick up your phone and tap on the screen to at least see who is trying to get hold of you so that you can decide if you want to answer first or get another cup of coffee and something to eat. All thoughts disappear when you see the screen. Three messages all from one person, someone you have actively tried not to think about in years, someone who hurt you far deeper than any ex could have.

Without thinking, you slide your finger up the screen to unlock it and go straight into the conversation, which is empty apart from these three messages. That’s very unlike you. Usually, you keep every conversation, never delete any messages. But this had been wiped clean after the last time you spoke 5 years earlier.

Hoseok: hey, it’s been a while … Hoseok: I hope you haven’t deleted my number Hoseok: I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I was hoping we could meet up, you know, two old friends.

At that moment, your brain jolts your body back into action, and you’re mad, maybe unreasonably mad, but you’re seething. How dare he? After all this time? After everything that was said? How fucking dare he act like the reason you hadn’t spoken all these years had been something mutual rather than something that was entirely on him. No, you hated Jung Hoseok. Hate him more than anyone you’d ever known. Hate him more than the ex that cheated on you with some fucking yoga instructor. Hate him more than your ex, who had decided you weren’t “marriage” material, whatever the fuck that meant. This is different. It had struck you so deeply and changed the entire way you saw everything, the way you interacted with everyone.

When you and Namjoon started working together, he had commented that it felt like you were an entirely different person than whoever had written the pages in front of him. That person was vibrant and funny, and open. You seemed closed off, even cynical, despite being so young. You had shrugged it off, and he hadn’t pressed, likely because he appreciated the talent in the work he was reading. This was the reason, though. Jung Hoseok. It’s been 5 years of carefully putting it in a box and tucking it away. And they’re good boxes you used, very sturdy. It’s been such a long time since he crossed your mind that you thought you were over it all, all the pain, hurt, and betrayal.

You have to fight the urge to throw your phone across the room, knowing that the lecture you’d get when you tell Namjoon you need a new one isn’t worth it. You want to scream, but it’s nearly midnight, and you have neighbors that would likely hear. Not that you care, exactly, but the last thing you want to do is explain to them that someone you’d known years ago randomly popped back into your life like it was nothing and you can’t cope with it. So you keep running down the list of options for how to react to this and wish you knew how to handle something like a normal, well-adjusted adult. You can’t stop your brain from running down yet another list, about a mile a minute, of every possible reason why he’s reaching out now. Why is he thinking of you? What does he want? That’s the reality, after all this time, it isn’t just to catch up. He must want something and think he’ll be able to get it from you.

It’s impossible to tell if you’re angry at him, yourself, or both. You’re stronger than this. You’re a legitimate author now, and you weather comments from the critics like they’re nothing. That had been the biggest surprise to Namjoon. Your first book hit the shelves, and the reviews were mostly positive, with a lot of raves thrown in there. When you asked to see the negative ones, he hesitated before ultimately relenting. You laughed and shrugged, handing the tablet back with a line about how you couldn’t ever please everyone. His reaction is still imprinted on your mind. So no, you might be mad at him for reaching out, but you are definitely more mad at yourself for the reaction. What does he want?

Then another thought hits you. Oh god, what if he's getting married? Your stomach drops at the thought of being forced to sit through him marrying that woman. You can’t even force yourself to call her a bitch in your head, even though she deserves it. And even though you want to blame her for losing him, you also know that as awful as she was, it had been his decision. But that isn’t comforting. That means that the pain is all rushing back to the surface like he holds all the power still, just like he did back then. And even though you have no idea what he wants, your brain latches onto him getting married. And if he invites you, you can’t say no. The rational part of you knows that you’re busy now and have every reason to turn down something like that. You aren’t friends anymore, haven’t talked in over 5 years, and it’s perfectly rational to turn down an invitation. The louder part screams that he would somehow know it’s still affecting you if you don’t show up, which means you have to go.

You’re not quite sure how you got there, but you’re sitting on the floor of your kitchen, the cool tile making contact with your bare legs, stretched out in front of you, back against the cabinet. At least you’re not curled up in the fetal position, you think. It could be worse. The reality of how affected you still are sinks in, and you just feel paralyzed. Paralyzed that you reacted that way, paralyzed by the fact that you’re not over it like you thought you were, paralyzed at the overwhelming feeling of aloneness that washed over you just at seeing his name. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Five years earlier

Things have been a little different since you both graduated from college, which you knew they would be, but you still have your best friend, and honestly, you feel like you could take on anything knowing he’s there by your side. Through four years of college, you’ve been through highs and lows, accomplishments and failures, exciting opportunities and near misses. What was more, Hoseok’s family had become almost like your own, which was so comforting. So yeah, things had been busier, but that was okay.

The only slight issue that the two of you had run into was Hoseok’s new girlfriend. It was a weird sentence to say. Usually, he dated someone for a couple of months and got bored, or they went crazy on him, or the schedules were too tough, and it just fizzled out. Through it all, nothing had changed between you and him. And why should it? Okay, yes, you’d slept together that one time when you were super drunk the summer between your first and second years. But, you’d just gone through a breakup and he had something on his mind you couldn’t remember. You’d laughed in the morning and agreed never again and that you’d never tell anyone. There was so much love in the friendship that you thought you could weather anything.

She was making it different, though and you were trying really hard not to dwell on it. Tried not to worry that you might be seeing a bit less of Hoseok, that things weren’t as carefree as they had been. Now you had to make plans to see him. Even though he’d still drop in on you at your apartment unannounced, as you’d always done, you couldn’t do that anymore. You were thankful that she was away for the weekend with her parents, though. Hoseok had commented that it was convenient timing since he had to pack up his apartment that weekend to get ready to move into their new shared space (still ugh, but you were dealing with it). Of course, you immediately let him know you were available and happy to help. Did you love packing and cleaning? Not even in the slightest. Your own apartment was untidy most of the time. It was nice to get time with your best friend, though.

The morning had gone easily. You showed up with coffee and breakfast and earned a grateful smile for having thought about it. There was not as much packing as there was reminiscing about making it through college together. At the moment, everything seemed fine to you, but later, you’d look back and realize it was all wrong. You were talking about college as if it were a phase in the past, something to look back on, not something that moved forward.

As the morning turned to afternoon and you were actually getting things boxed up, you figured it was a good idea to spring the surprise you had planned on him. At the last minute, you’d manage to score tickets to one of your favorite bands. They were playing in a small venue with only a few hundred people, and the only way in was to win. Well, you had gotten around that. A guy you had slept with a few times throughout the last year of school interned at the radio station and had offered you two tickets as an excuse to see you again, which you’d gladly taken and tried not to feel too bad at the way his face fell. He would be there anyway, though, even without the ticket.

“Soooooo,” you’d said, drawing it out to pull Hoseok’s eyes to you. He looked up, curious at the tone of your voice. “Do you remember that concert we were dying to get into?”

“Yes,” Hoseok said, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I forgot that idiot I was sleeping with like on and off all year worked for the radio station,” you said with a flip of your hair. You were expecting him to be beyond excited and maybe a little bit proud as you pulled the tickets out of your back pocket. “Sorry, but packing is gonna need to take a break. We’re going!”

That was your first indication, at least at the moment, that something was wrong. Instead of jumping around like idiots, the way you would any other time you were getting to go see live music, he was standing rooted to the spot and just looking at you. Music was legitimately one of your favorite things. What the hell was happening?

“Uh, Earth to Hobi,” you said. “Did you hear me?”

Hoseok was still quiet, looking down at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. It was seriously starting to worry you as you watched him. The smile that turned his face into a heart was nowhere to be found. You hadn’t exactly expected him to be eternally grateful (okay, maybe you had), but where was the smile?

“Look, I really appreciate it, but I don’t think I should go,” he finally said, and you physically flinched as you took a step back.

“It’s just a concert, Hobi. We do this all the time,” you reasoned.

He rubbed the back of his neck again like this was uncomfortable, like he was explaining something you should already know. “I just don’t know that we should be going to concerts anymore, you know since I’m dating Gen now.”

“I’m not really sure what one has to do with the other,” you admit.

“It looks kinda bad, doesn’t it? Having a girlfriend and going out with other girls?” He was still not meeting your eyes, and it took a lot of effort for you to not snort.

“We’re not going out. We’re friends, hanging out. It’s no different than you hanging out with Jongin or one of the other guys,” you said, still unable to fully process his words' meaning.

“It is, though, isn’t it? I haven’t slept with Jongin,” Hoseok said quietly, and your eyes went wide.

“It was one time years ago, and we both agreed not to bring it up again. So I don’t see the problem...unless,” you trailed off as realization dawned on you. “Please tell me you didn’t tell Gen that we’ve slept together.”

“I did. I had to,” Hoseok said, not seeming to grasp what he had done.

“What the fuck? No, you didn’t have to? We agreed, and you just blindside me, saying ‘oh yeah, by the way, I told my girlfriend we’ve fucked.’ Like, are you kidding me?” You were at a complete loss for words. What was going through that empty head of his?

“I had to tell her! I told you, it’s different with her,” he began.

“I can see that,” you cut across him.

“I love her. I can’t keep secrets from her,” Hoseok said.

“It isn’t a secret, Hobi. It’s something to protect our friendship,” you said. “It happened once, almost 3 years ago, and it didn’t mean anything.”

“Well, she thinks that maybe it’s a bad idea for you and me to stay friends with what’s happened. And she’s right. I guess it’s not normal for us to be as close as we are, you always coming to my family functions, us going out to dinner, to concerts. It’s all very couple-y,” Hoseok said, and you felt like you had been slapped in the face.

“Or, it’s things friends do,” you responded, dumbfounded.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok said and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Maybe you would have been too. “Gen thinks it’s weird that we’re so close. She thinks that she should be my best friend and I shouldn’t be closer to another girl than her…”

“Oh, well, if Gen said, then it must be true,” you had scoffed, more annoyed than hurt, just for a moment.

“Don’t be like that. She’s right! Our friendship is weird. It never really made any sense anyway. And now I’ve got Gen, and we’re both going down different paths. Maybe it was just one of those things that we’re only friends in college.”

And you were back to hurt, back to a pain you had never expected to feel, not from him, not from the one person in your life who had never let you down. He was the one person who was always there, and you recoiled.

“Excuse me?” It was all you could ask. Surely you had misheard him.

“Well, it’s kind of weird, isn’t it? You showed up to college thousands of miles away from home, not really close to any of your friends or family from back home and just kind of clung to me and my family and my friends,” he said as if it were nothing.

And there it was, the pain that you had been fighting since showing up on campus nearly four years earlier, thrown back in your face by the very last person who had ever expected to do something like this. He fucking knew what you had gone through just before college, knew why you didn’t speak to any of the family you had left, and knew why it had been hard to really bring friendships with you from high school to college. That fucking asshole knew why you had wanted to start over, and he stood there like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just said the most painful thing.

“Fuck you, Hoseok,” you said through gritted teeth as you fought harder than you ever had to keep from crying.

“You wish you could, I know, and so does Gen. She can see it on your face when you look at me that you love me,” Hoseok said, and your face contorted.

“Of course, I fucking loved you, you fucking idiot. But not like that. Not in a way that your precious fucking Gen should’ve worried about. I loved you like family, like the closest friend I ever had, the one person in my life who knew all my scars and still accepted me,” you shouted at him.

“Did you ever think that maybe that was too much to handle at 18? Did you ever think maybe I didn’t want all that thrown at me?” Hoseok shouted back at her.

“God, you say that like I had a choice of going through it. Do you think it’s what I wanted? But how the fuck was I supposed to know? You were kind and caring,” you responded. “I thought we were friends. I always had your back.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why Gen and I both think you’ve been secretly in love with me all along,” Hoseok retorted, and you gave something between a snort and a derisive laugh.

“Let’s not forget, that night we fucked, I was drunk off my ass, but I know you told Jongin you’d barely had anything to drink, so be careful throwing around accusations of secret crushes,” you shouted.

“No, I hadn’t had that much, but you practically threw yourself at me. What was I supposed to do?” Hoseok asked, and you let out an almost manic laugh.

“Yes, absolutely fuck me. That was clearly the only option. I’m so sorry it was such a burden on you, all these years being friends with me,” you respond, beyond tears at that point and running on pure adrenaline.

“I didn’t say….” Hoseok began, but you were over it.

“No, that’s right, your precious Gen said. Gen, who’s a fucking bitch to literally everyone she meets. Gen, who treats servers like trash and everyone like they’re beneath her. Gen, who you’ve been dating a couple of months when we’ve been inseparable for four fucking years, Hoseok,” you reminded him.

“I knew you didn’t like her.” Of course, he would latch onto that.

“No, I don’t fucking like her. I never made that a secret. She’s a bitch, but I told you that I supported you being happy because that’s what friends do.”

“Friends don’t hate the person their friend is dating….”

“Don’t you fucking talk about this stupid crush you and her have dreamt up,” you said, your tone threatening. “You know what, why don’t you grow a set of fucking balls and think for yourself. If it’s too much to be my friend and to have my back, then just man the fuck up and tell me. Don’t hide behind your girlfriend like a coward.”

“I’m not a coward!”

“Hoseok wasn’t a coward, but I don’t know who this is standing in front of me.”

“Maybe she’s right and you’re just jealous that I’ve managed to find a stable relationship.”

That felt like a slap across your face and it must have shown. Hell, you were surprised later that you didn’t have a red mark on your cheek. Because, again, he knew all your shit, why you couldn’t handle letting someone in like that, and how hard it had been to let him see every part of you. It was college. No guy you dated wanted to wade in that deep. That had been what made Hoseok so special as a friend. He could see right away that you were almost irreparably broken and didn’t care. No matter what, he was there.

“What?” Your voice was small then, and you hated it.

“It was all fine when I wasn’t ever serious about anyone, but now I’m serious about Gen, and you’ve just got your series of hookups and one-night stands and the guy who you managed to get those tickets off of, which who even knows what you said to him,” Hoseok said, and you knew that you were seconds from crying. That was the last thing you wanted him to see, but he went on.

“When we were both just fucking around and doing whatever, it was fine. Now I’ve got Gen, and you know you’ll be the third wheel, left out. And you hate it. Because you can’t ever keep a guy around for more than a few months.”

You couldn’t take any of it anymore, could not stand looking at him for one more second. You didn’t want to remember the way his face which normally had his heart-shaped smile contorted looking at you. You didn’t want to remember the things he said. You didn’t want to admit that you were just as alone now as when you were 18 years old. It was worse this time, though. Someone had actually shown you what true friendship was, how a family was supposed to support you, and what it was like to be loved by people who didn’t want anything in return apart from your own happiness. It had scared you how easily you fell into step with Hoseok, and the decision to trust him flew in the face of everything you thought. And now it seemed that 18-year-old you had been right. To trust someone was asking to be hurt.

The rest of the day and even the weeks that followed were mostly a haze. You had gone to that concert alone, even though you knew that you had friends you could ask. Everyone would have asked where Hoseok was and why he didn’t want the ticket, though, and that was absolutely not a conversation you wanted to have. So you went alone, and you vaguely remembered whatshisname being happy that you had shown up alone after all. Your body moved in time with the music, you drank way too much, and you woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar, yet familiar, apartment. Thankfully whatshisname was still asleep, and you could sneak out, only stopping to take in the horror of the posters on the walls.

Drinking was definitely the order of the day in the weeks that followed. It started with glasses of wine before moving on to mixed drinks and landing on straight whiskey. Nobody had seen you in person in weeks. You had your groceries delivered for when you felt like cooking, which was not often, honestly, and ordered in when you didn’t. Really, though, it was fitting. You wanted to be a successful writer, and could you really say you were without a drinking problem, being a recluse, or both?

*******************************************

The present version of you is still sitting on the kitchen floor, now with your legs pulled tight against your chest and arms wrapped around them. Years. It’s been years since you’ve been in this much pain. You had been absolutely positive that you weren’t broken like that anymore. It was all fine for a twenty-two-year-old recent grad to lose her shit over someone that she used to know. It is not fine for a twenty-seven-year-old successful writer to completely fall apart over the ghosts of her past that didn’t want to stay in those not-so-sturdy boxes they had been packed into.

Almost like a reflex, you reach for your phone and start digging through the folders in your photos. You had buried them in folders inside of folders inside of folders, layers deep, so it’s too much effort to stumble across them without wanting to. Still there waiting when you want to see them or feel compelled to look back to remind yourself that you aren’t crazy and you had been as important to him as he had been to you.

The progression from awkward college freshmen to confident seniors who actually knew what they were doing is painful in more ways than one. You try to focus on the clothes and the hairstyles, the bad make-up choices, the stupid faces that you thought were cute. God, what was 2012 you thinking, really? All too much blush, no contouring, sheepskin denim jackets, and jean shorts basically up your ass.

That’s just your mind trying to distract you, and it isn’t working well, or at all, really. There are hundreds and hundreds of pictures of you with Hoseok, always happy, always smiling, sometimes doing stupid shit, sometimes at concerts, sometimes on vacations with his family. The loss of his sister and his parents stung almost as much as the loss of him, especially with how often you went shopping with his sister. He would always act put out by it when he came along, but he ended up buying more than either of you...combined. And you would always just be able to call up his mother if you needed a parent’s advice, something warm and comforting. The happy memories make your heart hurt more, and you close the phone forcefully.

Your heart constricts, your chest feels tight, and you just want to scream again. You feel fucking pathetic that a few words from someone unravel you this way. You’re stronger than this. You’ve developed healthy relationships since then, despite the mess he left without a care. You know you’re in your head, and you’re your own worst enemy. So you force yourself up off the ground, phone in hand, and finger hovering over the dial button to Namjoon. Then, thankfully, you check the time and see it’s now nearly one in the morning.

Fuck, you have a meeting with him in the morning. No, you can’t call him. Not only because he’ll kill you for calling so late but because he can’t know you were this much of a mess this late at night without the finished chapter. Well fuck it, you think, better call the only person you trust and who’s always up at this time.

“You do know how late it is, right?” There’s no hello, no asking how you are, just the typical short, couldn’t-be-bothered attitude, same as always.

“Please, like you know how to go to bed before 4 am,” you respond, almost managing to sound like your normal self.

“I do when Jimin is here,” Yoongi retorts.

“Which he’s not,” you answer quickly. Bickering with Yoongi makes you feel normal, and there’s something oddly comforting about it.

“How do you know?” The challenge in his voice is clear, but it just eases your anxiety further, and you huff.

“Jimin texted me that he was worried about your sleep schedule or you actually eating,” you begin, stopping when Yoongi scoffs.

“Because you’re so much better about that than I am,” is all he says.

“That’s what I tried to tell him, babe. We’re both hopeless,” you say and actually get a laugh out of that one from your friend.

This is what you love most about your friendship with Yoongi. He absolutely knows that something is wrong and is still just as happy to let you ramble to him about whatever you want to chat about. He’s not big on feelings, talking about them or hearing about them. He cares enough to distract you, though.

You ask about his upcoming showcase and how many pieces he still wants to finish before then. Really, you did this more because of the reaction and to have him tell you, for the millionth time, that art isn’t planned or outlined. It was just created when he feels something. That was the difference, he said, between his work and yours. He waited until he had enough pieces to take up part of a showcase and then went from there.

Somehow, you still end up crying on the phone about your former best friend. And while Yoongi likes to pretend he doesn’t have time for emotions like this, you know it’s a lie. That had also been before Jimin, though, and before he was, quietly, happy and in love. The exterior is still prickly. Yoongi does not like to make time for everyone. The interior has softened enough that he lets you cry into the phone without being cruel or cold about it. He knows about Hoseok because you’d drunkenly talked about him before. This is different. Yoongi has never heard about him like this while you were sober, which should have made you uncomfortable.

All you think is that it’s nice just to say the things you have been holding in for so long to someone who genuinely cares about you, even when he has a weird way of showing it. On some level, you had spent the last five years feeling like you were unworthy of that kind of love, weren’t worthy of having someone see every part of you, and still want to stick around. Break-ups were hard. This was infinitely harder. With break-ups, maybe you aren’t right for each other, maybe there was no spark, maybe you have different values, or maybe you want different things. People break up all the time. But friends are supposed to be people that see all of that, know your values, your motivations, your quirks, and agree to be there no matter what. That was different when someone told you that they didn’t want to be your friend anymore. How do you keep from that cutting to your very core? What was more, it had seeped into every relationship that you had since then. You purposely date guys who either you don’t get too attached to or who you know will ultimately not want commitment and so they’re safe. And, honestly, it was why you had initially been drawn to Yoongi. Everything about him seemed like he’d never get deep with you, and so he was the perfect choice for a friend. When that hadn’t turned out to be the case, you’d been secretly thankful because he was a great person to have in your life.

In an actual surprise, Yoongi has advice on handling it, which you aren’t expecting. At most, you figure he’ll listen to you before the two of you move on to something. And he doesn’t give advice, so you’ll move on to something else. It’s actual advice, thought out as if he had been thinking about this for far longer than you had been crying to him. It’s wrong to underestimate him. Yoongi is a great friend and always there in the middle of the night when you need someone, both of your sleep schedules are beyond fucked.

“I think you need to see him again,” Yoongi says after a thoughtful pause.

“Wh-what?” You stammer the question out.

“You do. You’re never really going to be able to put it behind you and move on without giving him a piece of your mind,” Yoongi says, and you chew your bottom lip.

“I guess that makes some sense,” you concede.

“Maybe you can figure out a way to unexpectedly run into him on purpose.”

“And you’re back to not making any sense.”

“Course I make sense,” Yoongi says easily. “Like if he’s in the area, just bump into him, that way, when you look all put together, it’s less like you were preparing.”

“I don’t hate it,” you admit.

“You could bring your flavor of the week with you. Make him jealous.” You hear the smirk in Yoongi’s voice and visualize that glint he gets in his eyes. It only makes you roll your own.

“Okay, first, he’s not a flavor of the week, and second, I’m not bringing Jungkook,” you say dramatically, and it sounds like Yoongi chokes on the other end.

“Jungkook? You’re still fucking him?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“Hasn’t it been a couple of months?”

Ah, you see where Yoongi is going. “Yeah, but Kookie isn’t annoying. He doesn’t bug me about not having enough time or making plans or any of that. Plus, the sex is good, like really good.”

“Huh,” is all Yoongi says.

“Besides, I'm not trying to make Hoseok jealous because I’ve got some hot guy hanging around. We were friends.” You feel this is the millionth time you’ve emphasized this point.

“Just think about it,” Yoongi says.

“Of course, I’ll think about it,” you respond, and mean it. Yoongi doesn’t give advice like this often. “He is pretty, though, don’t you think, Yoongi?”

“Who? Hoseok?” Yoongi asks, sounding distracted.

You audibly sigh. “Jungkook.”

“I guess so. Jimin definitely thinks he’s attractive,” Yoongi says simply like it’s nothing.

“Oh fuck,” you say suddenly, looking around for the clock.

“What?” Yoongi asks, an actual alarm in his voice.

“What time is it?” This earns another scoff from Yoongi.

“The fuck do think I am? A clock?”

“Fuck, it’s late. I’ve got breakfast with Namjoon in the morning to talk about my book,” you say and start to pull yourself off the kitchen floor.

“He’s going to kill you,” Yoongi says, with a noticeable hint of enjoyment in his voice.

“No, he’s not,” you respond immediately.

“Have you finished the chapter?” Yoongi asks, and you swallow hard, not trusting yourself to answer. You earn a barked-out laugh in response. “Yeah, he’s gonna fucking kill you. Good luck, nice knowing you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, trying to hide that you were actually nervous. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Yoongi says.

You hang up and immediately strip to get into clothes for bed. Your mind is occupied with thoughts of Yoongi’s showcase, which you still have to find a dress for, and how Namjoon is going to react when you have not, in fact, finished the rough copy as you promised. Hoseok isn’t on your mind any longer, and you are happy to be able to drift off quickly.

please let me know your thoughts ❤️❤️

#bts fic #bts fanfic #btscarnivalnet #kvanity #fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #hoseok imagine #hoseok scenarios

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queenvidal · 2 years

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No Means Yes

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 4: Bye-Bye Sunshine

Chapter Summary: The head of the Saviors has his eyes set on Alexandrais scout and you know that, ready to confront him about it. But Negan is tired of talking and takes matters in his own hands.

Wordcount: 2629

Era: Season 7 - Part 2 of the The One And Only Series -

Note: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

It's incredibly cold today in Alexandria. Snow is still sitting on the branches of the trees and on the roofs of the houses. You’re sitting on the steps to your porch, watching Alexandria getting ready for the Saviors, who’ll arrive at any minute now. The cold doesn’t bother you much, actually you’re barely feeling it. Not a good sign. You place your head in your hands for a moment, before running them through your hair. Exhaustion is making your bones weigh as if they were made out of lead. The anger and frustration from last week's pickup drained you until there was nothing left but numbness. Negan is driving you insane. This man is hot and cold, yes and no at the whim. Everytime you think you’ve figured him out, he still manages to surprise you yet again. In one moment he acts concerned, in the other he threatens you. He’ll praise you, only to admonish you afterwards. He’ll flirt with you, only to let you fall again. It’s maddening.

But that's not even the worst part. No, you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut and had to flirt back. In the worst moment possible even. It was an accident, but still. You’re just insanely lucky none of his or your people took notice back then. You don’t want to imagine what would happen if someone knew.

Over the past days you considered moving out, to blow off some steam by hunting down a few walkers, to get your mind off of, well, Negan. You’d have found knives or a weapon on the way or figured something out. But something held you back. Maybe the more rational part of your mind, that was still working somehow. And in retrospect it was the smartest decision. If you had moved out, you would have missed your fathers return.

Surprisingly, against all of your expectations, the teams returned not only successfully, but also quite unscratched considering the conditions they’ve found themselves in. If you’re honest to yourself, you even would have expected at least one death. But no, your father brought everyone back home.

The sewers are overflowing with supplies of all kinds. Food, clothing, tools, you name it. Their return was celebrated with a big campfire, booze and cooked food, which lifted your spirits momentarily. Michonne suggested that Alexandria should hold this little event every week after the pickups and everyone in town was grateful to have something to look forward to from now on. Even you.

The sound of trucks reaches your ears and you turn your head to see the Saviors arriving at the gate. You take it as your cue to go back to the pantry. As much as you would love to hide this week, you have unfinished work left at the pantry that you have to attend to.

With tired but still quick steps you make your way to the pantry. Rick and Olivia are already there, waiting for the Saviors. Oliva hands her clipboard over to Rick who looks up when he hears your steps coming closer. “I thought you’d go back home?” Concern is thick in his voice.

He knows you’re not feeling well and went out of his way to keep work from you, so you could sleep in and have some alone time. He meant to do good, he really did but what he didn’t know is that alone time meant silence and time to think, which inevitably made your thoughts spin and race faster - worsening your inner turmoil and mood. But you are still thankful, nonetheless. At least he cared, right? “Didn’t get everything listed in time,” you answer him, “They're gonna ask questions.”

Rick places a hand on your shoulder with a faint smile. “We’ll deal with it. Go home. Please.”

For the first time in a long time you don’t fight your father. You nod at him before turning around. Better hurry and get out of the Savior's sight. Your eyes are set on your house as you make your way back home. Some of the Saviors already walk up the streets and you watch them from your periphery.

Simon is on his way with Arat hot on his heels. You're surprised to see the second in command walking up but decide to be too tired to care. With your hands in the pockets of your jacket, you try to move out of their way but Simon steps right in front of you, hindering you from moving on.

“Good morning, Y/N.” He greets you with one of his overly friendly faux smiles. Arat keeps on walking to the pantry, leaving the two of you alone. You don’t like it but won’t show the uneasiness you’re feeling right now.

You move your eyes from the other woman to look at him. “Simon.”

The man hooks his thumbs in his belt, swinging from the ball of his feet to his heels. “I think you’ll be delighted to hear that the boss wants to talk to you in the infirmary.” Since when does Negan send people out to catch you? Can't he be bothered to seek you out himself anymore? You just huff a laugh, “Tell him thanks but no.”

You round Simon, but he takes a few steps back to stay right in your personal space. “Y/N, unfortunately you're giving me the impression that you still don't quite understand how things are working here. Didn’t the boss make himself clear?” “Oh, he made himself very clear.” You tell him. “That's why I’m going home and not in the way of you nice guys.”

Simon's smile slowly subsides. “He was not requesting, Y/N.”

Ah, there you go. With a fake smile of your own you ask, “Oh, why didn’t you say so right away, Simon?”

“Careful, missy.” His demeanor changes immediately, “The drop will be deep when you fall from grace.”

What is that supposed to mean, was that a threat? Whatever Simon is talking about, you decide not to push your luck any further. With a last glance at him you pass Simon to get to the infirmary. What the hell is his problem? It’s not like the two of you had any troubles before.

You choose to ignore him for the moment. That's something you can deal with, once you’ve talked to Negan. Hopefully the boss will be quick about whatever he wants from you.

The closer you get to the infirmary, the more your feet start to drag. You don’t remember the last time you have been this exhausted. When you finally reach the door, you let yourself in.

“Ah, good morning Sunshine.” You’re greeted almost immediately. Negan is standing at your desk, smiling brightly at you.

“Hi,” you greet him back, not returning his smile. “Simon said you wanted to see me?” “Yeah.” Negan reaches in his jacket to retrieve something. “Got something that is yours.” After a moment he pulls out your scouting journal from his inner pocket. “My men found it in one of the bags.” Your bag. The one Dwight took from you, knowing very well that it was yours.

Negan tosses the journal on your desk before saying. “Thought you’d like to have it back.”

“Eh, yeah.” Obviously you want it back. “Thanks.”

So that's it? All he wanted was to give you back the journal. He could have done so at the pantry or even better, could have just given it to Simon and saved you the walk through town.

Negan leans against your desk, eying you for a moment before his eyes wander to the map on the wall. “You know, out of curiosity I sent a team to the last location in your journal.”

He must be talking about the district in D.C, the one you wanted to loot before your knives got taken away. “And?” You ask. “Any luck?” “Any luck?” He repeats in a loud voice, almost offended that you asked. “Sunshine, that spot was a fucking gold mine!”

Okay, he must be at least a little bit over exaggerating. Your routes are good, but not that good. Even so you take it as a compliment, since he certainly meant it that way.

Negan pushes himself from the desk, “And now I found myself right in a predicament.”

What’s he talking about? You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “How so?”

He takes a few steps forward, closing a bit of the distance between you two. “Well, unfortunately you are still on the wrong team.”

Not this again. You try not to let your annoyance show at this comment. How many times do you have to decline until he gets it?

With your hands on your hips you point out, “Negan, you have so many men at your disposal. I am pretty sure someone else could get this job done as well.”

“Maybe, but the thing is I don’t want someone else.” The boss of the Saviors keeps trying. “C’mon, doll. All I wanna know is what I can do to make you change your mind.”

You just shake your head and fold your arms in front of your chest. Before you can think any better of it, you suddenly ask. "You took my knives because you knew I would have gone out to scanvange, even though you forbade it. Am I right?”

Negan’s smile falters, he certainly did not expect that question nor the observation. After a few silent seconds he admits, “Sure did.”

You knew it. “Why?” You keep asking.

“Because you're injur-”

“No,” You interrupted him immediately. “I mean why the favoritism. You could have killed me a lot of times already, should have even according to your own rules, but never did and I just don't understand it. Why would you care if I went out, injured or not?”

Negan looks at you for a moment before replying. “Because I like you.”

“No, you don't.” You shake your head again. “Honestly, I think the only reason you want me as bad as you do is because you’re not used to being told no.”

Negan's eyebrows rise in response. “Is that what you’re thinking?” You shrug your shoulders. “Why else, Negan?” Again he comes a few steps closer. “Like I said, I like you.” “What does that even mean?” You ask impatiently, fed up by his antics.

But Negan only grins at you before he says, “That I want you.” You throw your arms up in frustration. “Perfect. Now we’re going in circles.” After a deep sigh you turn around, ready to leave.

Suddenly Negan closes the remaining distance in one big stride and grabs your wrist, spinning you around again. He pulls you right against his chest and you look up at him with wide blown eyes. He is too close for comfort, yet not close enough and you hate yourself for thinking that. His eyes are set on your lips and you feel unable to look away. He smiles down at you for a brief second before leaning in close.

Before you can even think about attempting to wiggle his grip off, he captures your lips with his. You let out a surprised hum before your eyes fallter shut and your mind goes blank. His lips feel unexpectedly soft against yours and you can't help but to kiss him back.

With your wrist still in his hand, his free one settles on your waist, pulling you even closer against him. Your heart takes on speed, beating almost violently against your ribcage and a warm and fuzzy feeling spreads through your abdomen up to your chest. The free arm of yours slings around his neck and he lets your other go to do the same.

Negan's lips move so perfectly against yours that you could feel yourself melt in his arms. Your lungs start to burn from the lack of oxygen but you don't want this to end. Slowly your hand reaches up his neck and into his hair. Your nails rake slowly against his skin and you could feel a pleasant hum travel within Negan's chest.

He tilts his head a little, about to deepen the kiss, when you suddenly become hyper aware of sounds outside of the room. Your eyes practically tear wide open and you quickly push Negan away from you.

Just in time you turn your head around to find Daryl coming to stand at the threshold. His eyes wander from you to Negan and back to you again. You don’t dare to breathe. Did he see? There is no way he saw you, right?

After an agonizingly slow passing moment, Daryl finally speaks up. “We need you at the pantry.”

Snapping out of your shocked state, you quickly get moving, not looking back as you hurry after your best friend. Regret washes over you the moment you leave the infirmary. Fuck, what did I just do?!

Daryl looks behind you quickly, before mumbeling “What did he want?” You speed up your steps, just wanting to gain as much distance to the infirmary as possible. “Found my journal and returned it.” Daryl gives you a doubting glance but won’t push it. You couldn't be more thankful for it. He most certainly did not see you, you must have pushed Negan just in time. Daryl would not be so chill otherwise. There is not a doubt in your mind he would go crazy if he knew.

You really have more luck than sense.

Once at the pantry, Rick thanks Daryl for catching you before he fills you in. Just like you have predicted, the Saviors are not happy about the incomplete inventory you started on last night. Arat pulls you aside, making you recount the complete stock with Olivia and Rick. It doesn’t take too long, only half an hour until the inventory is complete and Arat tells her men to take sixty percent today. Their compensation for the inconvenience. You cast your father an annoyed glance, you knew something like this was about to happen but neither of you speaks up. They could have taken way more after all.

Eventually, the Saviors make quick work of getting everything packed and start loading the trucks. Rick and Olivia follow them to the gate, wanting to make sure nothing more happens today. You look out on the street, watching the Saviors slowly but surely returning to the trucks.

Subconsciously you worry your lower lip with your teeth. You can still feel the faint scratch of Negan's beard against your lips and chin. Fuck, I fucking kissed him. You’re in deep shit. Flirting is one thing, but getting physical? You have to come up with an idea, this can’t continue, someone will find out and then you’ll be-

“So.”

You jump in surprise. Turning around you find the boss of the Saviors grinning down at you. “Christ, Negan.” You put a hand over your speeding heart. There really was no need to sneak up on you like that.

After a low chuckle, the man nods towards the pantry. “I’ll let the thing with the inventory fly. This time. But next week I want all lists up to date, full inventory and everything.”

“They’ll be.” You nod, still catching your breath.

“Good,” He grins at you while passing by with almost no space between the two of you, “Till next week, sweet thing.” “Sweet thing?” You wonder aloud, making Negan turn around again. “What happened to sunshine?”

“I think you deserve an upgrade.” He smiles at you but your frown doesn’t ease. “What, you’re not flattered?” You fold your arms in front of your chest. “Is that your goal?” “Is it working?” You chortle awkwardly, this man is unbelievable. But you can't hide the warmth on your cheeks, which already answers his questions by itself. Eventually you give in and admit,

“A bit.”

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

Taglist: @starry-night-20

#The Walking Dead #negan smith #negan x oc #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan / reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #michonne #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #twd #twd fanfiction

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sabraeal · 9 months

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Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Written for @sepalina's birthday, who deliberated for two days only to suddenly remember, oh yes right she has a favorite fic 🤣

That Seiran chick might have a princess’s pedigree around here, but there’s nothing dainty about the way she grips the metal bar at the end of each of their cots, twisting her wrists like she’s picturing flesh and bone rather than steel.

“You two have to be the biggest boneheads I have ever seen stuffed into a drive suit.” Her fingers clench, and Obi could swear the mental dints. “A bare knuckle brawl in the dome? At a time like this? Are you two insane?”

“Ah, well…” The Big Guy may have looked tough when Obi took him to the mats, a more solid anti-kaiju wall than anything the PDPC could toss into the Pacific, but he cringes just like any other mortal would when Kiki Seiran looms over him, all her disappointment honed to a point. “It wasn’t really a brawl. Just a…regulated spar, like usual—“

“Usual?” Her arms fold the way steel does into rebar, and oh, the princess is not amused. “Obi’s more bruise than bone.”

“Aw, Princess,” he croons, trying not to wince from the effort. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

Her spine straightens, giving her all the extra inches she needs to give that glare of hers momentum, hitting him like a body off the Golden Gate hits the bay. “I can see the other guy. You’re both in the same infirmary, because you’re the same amount of stupid.”

“Actually, I’ve been wondering about the logic on that one.” He tilts his head, trying to go for that doleful dog stare that does wonders on sweet little nurses with hearts of gold. Too bad he’s got Yuzuri, who only wrenches his head back to the side, holding him still enough to swab when the skin’s split over his cheekbone. “Is this our— yikes, careful there, Florence— get along shirt or something? Two guys take some swings and you hope sticking us in a bottle sorts it out?”

“No,” she deadpans, taking a pen light out from the pocket of her scrubs. “I’m trying to quarantine the idiocy. You better be careful, Major” —she casts a long glance princess-side— “it might be catching.”

That regal mouth twitches, somewhere in the realm of amused. “Too late for me. No one ends up in a drive suit unless they’re born with it.”

“Ha, that’s for sure.” A light sears across his line of sight, leaving constellations in its wake. “As for you two, I didn’t see the point in sending you to your corners when you’re so friendly. Saves me space, and you can treat tonight like a sleepover. Braid each other’s hair and talk about cute boys.”

“Er…” How a big man like that can go through basic and still blush as easy as a school girl, Obi will never know, but it’s funny as hell. “I don’t really have opinions on cute boys…”

“Don’t worry, Big Guy,” he grunts, snuggling his shoulders into the pillows at his back. “I’ve got enough for both of us.”

That gets him a real side-eye from GI Joe, one that only ends when he swings those golden retriever eyes onto the real authority in this room. “Is there any way I get to go back to my bunk tonight?”

“Sorry, Major.” No matter what she says, Yuzuri’s shrug doesn’t give a single hint of regret. “Gotta keep you both on observation. SOP for rangers with head injuries. Last thing we need is for you guys to hare off and play hero just because you heard the dinner bell.”

He grimaces, all perfect teeth in a perfect face. Pity this guy fell into the military before someone could get him a magazine cover. Obi would have loved to hang that pin-up over his bunk. “Ah, right. That…makes sense.”

Of course it did. They might all be kaiju-fodder in the end, but they were the expensive, top shelf shit. The kind the PDPC wanted to stretch out as long as possible, not waste on some idiot who went into the drift concussed and had his brain melt right out his ears for the effort. Obi half surprised they haven’t been shoved into an MRI just to make sure.

“Aww, but you don’t really want to leave, do you, bestie? Not when we’re gonna have so much fun.” The target of his grin shifts from bed to bedside. “What do you think, Yuzuri? Think we could borrow some ManGo For It or Red Hot Rio?”

“I dunno,” she deadpans, not even looking up from her notes. “I think he’s more of Rosy Future guy.”

“Really? Still running your mouth?” Her Highness tosses her head, more pony than princess. “Did you not get beat bad enough?”

“What, this little mosquito bite?” Obi gives his jaw a good clench and turn, displaying his medal of honor at its best angle. Hurts like a bitch, but it’s worth it to see even Princess get squeamish. “Lucky shot. I got three hits for his one.”

Her mouth does that thing it does, that twitch, the one he’s starting to figure out is a laugh. “Yeah, and that’s all he needed to make you crumple like a tin can.”

“I already said I felt bad about that,” Big Guy grumbles, all folded in on himself like a teddy bear longing for a good squeeze. “I wasn’t trying to…well…”

“It’s okay, Superman, we all know you’re living in a world of cardboard.” Obi leans over, giving one of those meaty shoulders a good pat. Probably feels like a whisper to a man that stacked. “How can I blame you, when you were only defending milady’s honor—?”

Her weight shifts, no longer balanced parade-style between their cots, but sitting back in her hips, displeasure heavily implied. That man-sized mountain straightens so much it Obi can practically feel the plate tectonics beneath his palm.

“I was not!” Big puppy eyes swing right around to the ticking time bomb at the end of their beds. “I would never do that!”

One elegant eyebrow arches, and ah, now he can see why half the PDPC pisses itself when she punches the bag right off its chain. Most of the rangers the Academy rolls out are brawlers, the kind of guys that get in between a kaiju’s punch and the Pacific coastline, but this girl— her power’s in the application of force, the art of finessing a blow to where the bones can’t bear it. Can’t get into a brawl with a fighter like that and expect an old fashioned beatdown, oh no— when princess steps on the mats, she doesn’t fight, she dismantles.

Ha, and by the way she chucks her chin, all challenge, she knows it.

Now how about that. It’s a whisper in his ear, a hum across the million and one electric impulses in his brain, dangerous and fond. Remind you of anyone you know?

Knew, maybe. Bright blue smears over stark white when he closes his eyes; suits that stood out, even among halls that housed living legends. Eye-catching, the higher ups had called it, but it caught all the wrong eyes when it came to Sonisay. They all learned, of course; even now he hears the sickening crack of bone, sees the sweep of dark hair as she steps out of her spin—

Not just that. That laugh jangles his nerves, too close to his own and yet infinitely different, inimitable. Not just her.

There’s a boy too, too small, too skinny, too…not enough. Might as well be a shadow for how closely he clings to that same dance, to those same stances. Might as well be a monster for how easily the bones crack under his heels too, no remorse, no regrets—

A boy that shouldn’t exist. A boy that no longer does. Obi closes his eyes.

You can’t look away forever. Too many voices to count on that one. Watch me, only his reply.

“Let me make something clear.” Big Guy’s grunt grounds him, dragging him right back down to his bed, to the finger waggling at him. “Kiki doesn’t need me to fight her fights for her. If she wants to kick someone’s ass, she can make her own bodies.”

Ah, great. Got back just in time to witnessing Bloodbath Barbie over there desire Big Guy carnally. Not that he notices; oh no, the Jolly Marine Giant only has eyes for him, serious as a heart attack. Makes him want to mention that these rickety little med cots can’t handle two ranger pilots going at it, let alone three, but of course Yuzuri’s gotta make it a rain out.

“All right, all right, visiting hours are over,” she sighs, and oh, by Princess’s look, this is the first time someone’s tried to shoo Kiki Seiran out of anywhere. “These boys need some rest, not an audience. Just gonna rile ‘em up.”

This guy benches almost twice Obi’s weight, a monster of a man, but the second Yuzuri aims that scold his way, he’s all puppy. “But I wouldn’t—”

“You might behave, but he won’t.” She jerks a thumb back where Obi lounges, pointed. “And if he doesn’t want to play nice, he’ll find some way to drag you along with him.”

Sounds about right, hums a nuisance that has no right to throw stones. Not at this particular glass house, at least.

“Me?” Obi a presses a hand to his chest; harder to see it tremble that way. “Why, I was only going to take a small snooze. A cat nap, really. How could I—?”

“No sleeping!” Yuzuri glares at him, incredulous. “Didn’t I just say you could have a concussion?”

“Aww, come on,” he sighs, hooking his hands behind his head. “First no fighting, now no napping? What else are we supposed to get up to in here?”

Princess hangs in the gap of their curtain coverage, and oh, she may not smile, but that’s one masterclass of a grin. “Strenuous activity.”

“Kiki—!”

“None of that either!” With an officious wave of her hands, Yuzuri succeeds in doing what PDPC has failed to do for years: tell Kiki Seiran where to go. “Now, get. These two don’t need a bad influence.”

“Aww, c’mon, Flo! That’s no reason to shoo Princess out,” Obi whines now that his entertainment has sashayed right out of his evening. “I’m an even worse influence, so—”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she sniffs. “Now give it a rest. Or else I’ll call Shirayuki down here, and she can read you the riot act.”

There’s a time he might have laughed. Might even have let one shoulder and a wry eyebrow do the heavy lifting as he said, I’m sure the Good Doctor has better things to do with her time than worry about little old me.

But a week ago he woke up in one of these cots soaked in his own sweat, ears still ringing from a klaxon that never rang. At least, not in this dome, not that day; his stomach churning from the heady brew of trauma and military grade sedatives. He’d turned, half convinced he’d see either six bodies or and empty room, and instead—

It was her. Tiny ponytail and all, clumps of it making a bid for freedom from that poor excuse of an elastic. A borrowed one, all stretched out from trying to contain the fallout from Yuzuri’s nuclear-level event that she calls her hair, but it’s serviceable. Enough to bridge the gap between now and whenever Doc finally decides whether she’s gonna bite the bullet and grow it out again, or just chop the whole thing off.

That’s not the sort of stuff he knows about people. Not the sort of stuff he ever gets close enough to find out. But she was sitting right there, head tipped off the back of that chair, breath trembling the little flyaways splayed over her lips, and—

“Fine,” he sighs, settling back into his pillows. “I’ll play nice.”

Yuzuri snorts. “I won’t hold my breath.”

It’s when Big Guy lumbers out of their cozy little curtained love cave to go take a piss— or a shit; Obi might be nosy, but even he’s got his limits— that Yuzuri swoops back to his bedside, using his vitals as an excuse to say, “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”

None of her business. There’s a gruffness to that, a texture that implying barbed wire fencing with the prickly bits facing inside. Embarrassment, the kind a boy at the cusp of manhood couldn’t bear with any grace. Not that he had done all that well with other emotions either.

Could never bear being anything but the hero. A taunt, a snipe across the mess hall’s tables. Even in his head those two would never get along.

You can just admit it. Sonisay speaks the way silk would sting, if it could, a smooth stab with no mess left behind. A sliver beneath the fingernail, only noticed when it slips deeper. It’s not as if you were thinking of anything sexual.

Sure. There’s no need for the smile-like stretch over his synapses, too smug. But not from lack of trying.

He appreciates the honesty is the best policy shtick, especially from the girl who always spoke out both sides of her mouth as easy a breathing, but Obi settles on a nice neutral, “What?” instead.

Might earn him the sort of look that begs the question of just what is rattling around between his ears, but it’s better than having to explain that when he closes his eyes he sees red. Not spread out across his pillow or tangled in his fingers, but caught up in plain little hairpins, already slipping free.

“Are you kidding me?” Her gaze darts over the the empty bed beside his, pointed. Oh, so that’s what she’s asking about. “Did you somehow miss how big that man is? He could fit two of you between his shoulders!”

“Aww, Flo, he’s harmless.” Pain shoots up his cheek when he tries to grin, settling somewhere near his temple. Damn, that’s gonna put a real crimp in his game. “Big Guy’s a gentle giant.”

She stares at him. “Half your face is a bruise.”

Obi hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing himself in the mirror lately, but by the way one half of his face feels heavy enough to make him lean like a tower in Pisa, he doubts that’s an exaggeration. “He didn’t mean it though.”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to your capillaries whether he meant it or not.” One finger of hers brushes an eyebrow— yowch— and she scowls. “They’re broken all to shit anyway. God, you’re gonna be lucky if that smile of yours isn’t permanently lopsided from this.”

Already was, but she didn’t ask for his medical history. “I’ll be roguish.”

“You’ll be in PT, that’s what you’ll be.” She pulls back with a cluck of her tongue. “Lucky as hell that he didn’t break your orbital. Ugh, or your nose. That would have been a bitch to set. And your cheekbones—”

A cough, timid for how deep it is, rustles outside the curtain. “Sorry,” Big Guy starts, all doleful hound dog eyes as Yuzuri pulls them back. “I didn’t want to, er, eavesdrop, but…”

He’s smarter than to say, but you told us not to leave. Not to someone like Yuzuri, who’s already ruby red from the collar of her scrubs to her headband, ready to crack out of her shell like a crab left too long in the pot.

“You…I…” She slides out right around him, never once turning her back. “G-go. Lay down. Or something! Ugh!”

Big Guy blinks once at her back before swinging those hound eyes back to him. “Is she—?”

“Embarrassed,” he agrees. Yuzuri’s always happy to share her opinions, up until she get caught. “Big time. She’ll recover. But until then it’ll be your fault.”

“Oh…” He winces, though Obi can hardly tell if it’s from the thought of Yuzuri’s ill-wishes, or the kick he landed on his hip, making what should be an easy walk a bit of a hobble. “I am sorry about that, you know.”

That lantern jaw juts itself toward him, or more specifically, the shiner painted up one side. “This old thing? Don’t worry about it. Got worse from a mosquito.”

If Big Guy is impressed with his bravado, he’s got a funny way of showing it, looking all hangdog like that. “I just…I didn’t really mean to…”

Fuck you up is what the big guy can’t bring himself to say. It’s probably rude to tell him, I’ve had worse.

“No hard feelings, Major.” It’s half a laugh, half a groan as he hauls himself up his pillows, every muscle aching. “I did tell you not to go easy on me.”

A grimace is what he gets in reply, and a pained, “Still…”

The you didn’t know what you were getting into hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Like maybe he’s never fought a guy above his weight class. Like he’s never stood in front of a boy a third again his age, watching his knuckles crack beneath the cloth of his binds.

More like he doesn’t know how much he can mean it, a grim mouth huffs humorlessly. He will though. Give him a few months.

“Didn’t really expect you to try to kill me, though.” For a moment, he’s not quite sure who he’s talking to. He rubs at his jaw, pain scintillating beneath his palm, and, haah, yeah, he knows what fist laid a kiss on this cheek alright. “Damn, no wonder kaiju don’t walk away from you.”

“I wasn’t try to…” It’s funny watching a mountain hunch like that, shoulders riding up again his ears making him a whole range instead a single peak. “With someone who moves like you, there’s only two sure ways to win. I went with the one that relied on power. Wasn’t going to land many hits on you but had to make the ones I did count.”

“And then did too good a job.” That’s the thing with having a body that shares more in common with a jaeger’s chassis than human flesh; the fall back option is to just do everything more and harder. Obi had met more than a few men like that in his time, but none of them so friendly. “I gotta admit though, Big Guy, you got me curious. What’s the other way?”

Big lungs heave big sighs, and oh, this one feels like it could take a few trees with it before he settles back against the headboard. “Tire you out. Quick guys typically don’t have a lot of stamina when things drag on, so—”

“All right, all right, don’t let the ladies hear that one.” Or most of the men while he’s at it, even if Obi’s personal tastes tend more toward the techs tending the tin cans than the bodies they throw in them. “Don’t want anyone to get the idea that I can’t keep up off the mat either.”

That won’t be much of a problem. It’s rare to hear advice from that corner of his mind, but Buma’s habit always was to watch first and speak too late. Not with all the training you’ve done outside—

That’s Need To Know only. Obi casts a long glance over where giant feet nearly hang off the mattress. And I don’t think the Major needs to know.

“Anyways,” he huffs, the sort of quiet career boys get when they’re shy. “Sorry.”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Guy. I asked you to bring me a fight and you did! I’m hardly gonna blame you for that.” He turns his head, grinning at him across the poor excuse for a bedside table. “Besides, now I know what it’s like.”

Those puppy eyes blink, too innocent for a guy who could break him in half by breathing. “Hm? Do you mean—?”

His eyebrows lift —well, one of them tries to— enticingly. The wince probably doesn’t do him any favors. “Kissing your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh, it’s a real treat to see a lantern jaw drop so hard it nearly shatters. Too bad Princess isn’t here to enjoy it. “What?”

“You know…” His fingers weave through some hazy dips and lazy dives. “I can see what was good between you and High Highness, or whatever. The way you’d could compensate for each other in the drift. But you and me” — his hand flicks between them— “we don’t fit.”

“Oh.” It’s a pleasure to watch his mouth wrap around that noise, to see him really wrangle with the meat of what his meaning. “Yeah. I get it. I think.”

“I mean, for one thing,” Obi says, so casual. “We’re both bottoms.”

“Come again?”

“Kidding, kidding.” Kind of, Sonisay hums, and oh, he could swear he feels that forked tongue flickering where she coils in his mind. I doubt he’d complain if that blonde woman took it into her head to—

Hey. Maybe if he had a mirror, he could give himself a warning look, the kind Doc was always giving him right before he took a joke too far. But instead he had to settle for just thinking louder, like trying to shout over a crowded bar. I still gotta talk to this guy with a straight face for the next twenty-four hours.

Sounds like, that too-familiar voice hums, a real personal problem.

It’s too bad Major Do-Right over there can’t hear the speculation of the peanut gallery; then he might no be so quick to let relief bring those shoulders relax, to settle back into those pillows with a sigh that speaks of a light conscience. What did Yuzuri say? If Obi doesn’t want to behave, he’ll drag you down with him…?

Well, he hates to disappoint.

“Or am I?” The cot nearly cracks down the middle from how fast the Big Guy turns on it, sputtering. Obi just tosses him a wink. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to kiss and tell.”

For all that their lovely nurse devotedly frets over the potential stupors they could slip into with even the slightest bit of shut eye, or sometimes even something like getting up too fast or breathing too easy, she’s sure eager to encourage them to piss all by their lonesomes one she’s sure they can make the walk.

“What, this doesn’t get you going?” Obi asks, peeking around the door. “I hear some people really get into—”

“I hear some people really don’t get jello at dinner,” she replies, shoving him bodily through the crack. “Wanna see if you’re one of them?”

“What if the stream’s too strong and I get vertigo?” He winces, hearing all those words echo in so small a space, but it’s worth it for the noise she makes outside the door. “What if I crack my head on the floor and get a double concussion?”

“Then at least you’ll be quiet.”

There’s a slam— a door. Not this one, the particle board so paper thin Big Guy could probably sneeze it off its hinges; but the heavier infirmary door, one meant to withstand a mortar shell, maybe even nuclear blast— but Obi doesn’t bother to bite back his grin. Maybe if he’s lucky, she’s run into Suzu on the way to the commissary and give him a full run down of all the ways she could make Obi’s death look like an accident. Some real romantic talk to keep a nerd warm at night.

With shake and a wriggle— how Big Guy managed to move around in here when his elbows keep cracking into the tile, Obi’ll never know— he wraps up his business, sauntering straight out onto the infirmary floor. With no kaiju to keep the place hopping, it’s dark, the only light coming from the lamp angled over Yuzuri’s desk, and from behind their ring of curtains. A nice way to find his way back; or at least it would be if he didn’t already count two shadows there: one hitched up on the bed, shoulder big enough to overflow the outline of the pillows, and the other—

The other’s standing, tall enough to make Big Guy seem normal sized, and radiating authority the same way the sirens do danger.

Ah, fuck. It’s the Marshal. Hide, a cacophony of whispers hiss, which— he’d love to, if there was a single goddamn place to do it.

“I take it this isn’t a social call.” Big Guy doesn’t have a deep voice, not the way the circumference of his chest would suggest, but he’s pitched it low now. Still too much to be contained by a curtain, though.

The Marshal cocks his head, wry. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘yes?’”

There’s a hesitation, a huff that might be something like humor. “No.”

“Then let’s not waste time pretending.” It might be a trick of the acoustics in this room, a little reverb on that tinny echo, but Obi could swear His Majesty sounds amused. “I’ve heard you’ve quite the rapport with our new ranger.”

Oh, hell. As if this isn’t the cherry on top of his shit sundae: not only is he stuck, standing right out in the open as the top brass talks Top Secret, he’s the topic they’re having tea over.

“News travels fast.”

“Danger of living in one of these little warrens.” The Marshal shrugs. “Rats like to chatter.”

Air hisses between Big Guy’s teeth, the way it did right before he threw his haymaker. “Not a lot of people eager to be on the wrong side of the mat from him. Not after the way he and Zen went at it the last time.”

“So you…what?” It’s uncanny how even the Marshal can make his voice; no inflection, no judgment, no answers. “Thought you’d help him keep his edge?”

“He asked.” There’s a rustle, a creak, and even though he can’t see it, he knows mountains are moving to make that shrug. “Not like I’ve got much to be afraid of.”

If one half of his face didn’t feel as ginger as the oldest wicker chair on some grandma’s patio, Obi might take some offense to that. That’s what you get for being so scrawny, a gruff voice scrapes over his ear, everyone underestimates you.

That, hums another, too pleased, is kind of the point.

“Good.” There’s something final in the way the Marshal says it, less like an observation, and more like an assessment. A test passed with much anticipated flying colors. “Keep doing that.”

Obi could cut the consternation in this room with a knife. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Was I not clear?” His Majesty’s tone conveys his confidence that he was. Maybe even too much so. “I’d like you to pursue this…relationship with our new colleague. Foster this tentative trust you have managed to build.”

Ha. Obi’s heart stutter hard enough— loud enough— that even the peanut gallery keeps their opinions to themselves. He should have known something like this would happen; sure, all the paperwork calls Hachimaru a failure, one that should have never flopped its way out of dry dock, but to someone like Izana Wisteria, well—

He’s got a reputation for ruthlessness for a reason. Enough of one that it escaped containment, slipping past the PDPC’s iron curtain of silence to spread around the streets of Sitka. Buildin’ a wall to keep the monsters out, one of the wallmen had chuckled over his pint, but no matter how high we do it, that one will still be in here.

Obi might have called that unfair, once. Sure, His Majesty wasn’t exactly a friendly guy, at least not with the rank and file, though there were magazines enough that showed him being chummy with the higher ups, but, well— pedigree might have put him in a pod, but it wouldn’t have pulled him a position so high above it. No, that only went to the corps' top minds, the ones who knew what it took out there to take your lumps and drag your metal coffin home. The ones who understood what they were asking when they dumped two men out into the Pacific and asked them to stop a natural disaster or die trying.

But if that guy is gonna meddle in his business like this, well, maybe once they finish building that wall, they can dump him over it. Lets the monsters sort it out between themselves. Knowing the Marshal, he’d still find a way to come out on—

“No.”

“No?” The way the Marshal wraps his mouth around the word sends shivers up his arms.

“I can’t do that. I mean, I won’t.” Big Guy snorts, like there’s a stench in the air he can’t quite get rid of. “I’d do a lot for you, sir, I would. Take a bullet. Die for the cause. But I’m not going to…to manipulate that man back into a jaeger for you. Not like this.”

A breath catches in Obi’s throat, nearly choking him. Big Guy’s got a heart of gold, but he can’t possibly be stupid enough to— to—

“Well well.” To his utter surprise, the Marshal laughs. “Good thing that’s not what I’m asking.”

Big Guy grunts. “Isn’t it?”

“If you couldn’t manage to convince my brother into the cockpit, I doubt you’ll have much luck with a man you barely know.” For how casually it’s said, there’s a bite to it, each word honed to sting. “I only meant that he’s not responding to the typically recommended course of therapy.”

Right. Because after that one session with Doc post-drift, all his peanut gallery clamoring to have their turn now that cat had clawed its way out of the bag, he hadn’t been able to drag himself back. And with all the dinners and hallway-run ins they’ve had since, Doc didn’t seem eager to sit him back down on her couch any time soon either.

“But he seems responsive to you, Major Lowen.” Or at least responsive to getting his shit kicked in, whatever that said about him. “Rangers are typically taciturn about their issues. I thought this route might be worth encouraging, since he seems amenable. Sometimes it’s easier for military men to discuss their problems with someone who has gone through the same ones. Especially” —Obi doesn’t need to see his smirk to know it’s there— “if they’re with the same person.”

Obi might not have stuck around under his dome once the dust settled, but he knew all about guys like Lowen. The regulation haircut, the closet full of BDUs, the fondness for field rations and boiled chicken— just a thin veneer of muscle and bravado over a reflex to ‘sir, yes, sir’ his way out of any problem more complex than picking which socks to put on in the morning. He might have stuck his neck out for something that twinged the weather vane that was his moral compass, but now that someone with stars and bars has explained to him that black is white, he’ll—

“That all?” Big Guy’s too nice to spit out the “sir?” but that little hitch before it, that small hesitation— well, sky writing would have been more subtle.

“Yes.” There’s no tone to that one either, no flavor. Just the implacable bite of subzero. “Unless, of course, there’s something you’d like to discuss?”

There shouldn’t be, his tone conveys, clear enough it could be heard in the hangar. Obi could swear he hears Big Guy’s teeth grind from here.

There’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that makes his skin itch.

“Just one thing, actually. Sir.” The bed creaks, and his shadow shifts, pulling straight. “Been noticing there’s a lot of hopefuls hanging around the past few months. Thought they might be clearing out now that all this business with Tyrannis is done.”

The Marshal hums, distant. “There’s hardly any rush, Major. A few sets of extra hands is always welcome.”

“Even when they don’t come with their own ride?”

For once, His Majesty hesitates. “Even then.”

“Even” —Big Guy almost savors his next words— “if they’re Hisame Lugis?”

“Dangerous times makes strange bedfellows.” The Marshal laughs, sour. “Especially ones like Hisame Lugis. Now if you don’t mind” — the curtain pulls aside— “I think our friend might like to use his bed. Isn't that right, Major?”

Ha, a voice tingles in his ear, busted.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #there is something about this arc in this fic where i keep thinking i'll never have enough words #and then I get there and I have to move like at least one or two major scenes to another chapter #and POV!#but this one was less of a surprised because all of the peanut gallery was added in on the second draft #which changed a LOT of Obi's narration #and made him more introspective than I usually keep him #I think next chap is a Shirayuki chap #and is possibly more shippy. BUT WE WILL SEE

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