#so like I started this book a while ago and now restarting it from the beginning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goblinontour · 5 months ago

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My Head, Your Chest

or what was supposed to be a study session

warnings: fetus!al, fluff, smut, munching, that’s it

word count: 7.6k

The notebook in your hands feels sticky. It’s only getting worse with every passing minute, and you can’t decide if it’s from the heating being turned all the way up or your growing distaste for the subject at hand. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the bonus heater lying between your legs right now — a mop of messy brown hair pressed to your stomach, radiating heat like he’s made of fire.

He’s burning up. Burning you up, too. Your brain is overheating, and it’s mostly from the endless studying you’ve been at for what feels like decades — though it’s probably only been a couple of hours at best. But it’s also from him, from his fever that flared up a couple of hours ago — or rather, restarted.

Alex got sick on Sunday, and now it’s Wednesday, and you haven’t seen him since that first day of misery. He’d stayed home, groaning into the phone about how he couldn’t come to class the next day because he was “in no state to show me face” and because he, quote, “don’t want ya to catch me death.” You’d rolled your eyes but kept your distance, though by Tuesday the missing him started to outweigh your good sense. And, apparently, his missing you did too.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, you were both excellent at lying to yourselves. It’ll be fine. It’s just a cold. What’s the worst that could happen? So here you are now, stuck in a poorly ventilated room with his feverish body sprawled across you, the sticky notebook, and a mounting pile of regret that isn’t nearly strong enough to pull you away from him.

“Yer not even lookin’ at the book anymore.” Alex mutters, his voice thick and groggy as he shifts slightly, his cheek brushing against your stomach.

You glance down at him, his face flushed from the fever and his hair damp at the edges where it clings to his forehead. He looks utterly pathetic. And completely adorable.

“You’re not exactly making it easy to concentrate.” you point out, tapping the edge of the notebook against his shoulder.

“Not me fault.” he says, tilting his head up just enough to give you a lopsided grin you can’t even see. “You’re the one who insisted on revisin’ while I’m dyin’ here.”

“You’re not dying.” you say, rolling your eyes but reaching down to brush a hand over his hair anyway. It’s warm — too warm — but the way he leans into your touch makes it impossible to pull away.

“Feels like it.” he mumbles, closing his eyes.

“You’re dramatic.” you counter, but your tone is soft, betraying you.

He hums, something low and pleased, and nuzzles closer to your stomach. “Missed ya.” he says after a moment, his voice quieter now, like the admission costs him something.

Your chest tightens, and you bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Yeah.” you say, your fingers still threading through his hair. “I missed you too.”

And there it is — the real reason you’re here, risking a cold or worse. Because the ache of not seeing him was worse than the ache of a sore throat or a runny nose could ever be.

“You know,” you say after a moment, “if you’d just stayed in bed and let yourself get better, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Don’t care.” he murmurs, his words slurring slightly as his fever and exhaustion start to win out. “This is better.”

And damn it, he’s right.

“What are you studying for anyway?” He doesn’t bother lifting his head, just peeks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “You never told me.”

“Lit class.” you reply, flipping the page of your notebook with a sigh. You’re trying to focus, really, but the words keep swimming, your concentration slipping like sand through your fingers.

He hums, soft and lazy, and the vibration of it buzzes against your skin. “Figures. You and your books.”

There’s a warmth in his tone that makes your chest feel lighter, like maybe you’re not so annoyed at this assignment after all. Your fingers find their way into his hair again before you even realise what you’re doing, brushing through the mop of brown in slow, absentminded strokes. It’s soft, even though he hasn’t bothered washing it properly since he got sick, and the motion is soothing — more for you than him, probably.

You feel his weight shifting as he turns his head. Before you even lower the notebook, you know what sight is waiting for you, and when you do — oh, there they are: two wide, ridiculously gorgeous puppy eyes staring up at you, full of a kind of innocence and curiosity that makes your heart ache. He blinks at you and, for a moment, you think you might melt into the mattress entirely. You’d keep him in your pocket if you could, tucked safely away where no one else could see him.

“Literature, huh?” he asks, his voice soft and scratchy but tinged with amusement.

“Yep.” you say, struggling to keep your focus on the…the…the notebook, right. But your gaze keeps drifting back to him, to the way his nose is scrunching up slightly, to the faint pinkness in his cheeks — whether from fever or you at this point, you can’t tell, but you really want it to be the latter.

“You could help me, you know.” you blurt out before you can think better of it. “If you want this to go faster.”

His brow furrows slightly, and he blinks again, slower this time. “Help?”

“Yeah.” you say, gesturing vaguely at the notebook with your free hand. “I haven’t got a poet in my bed for nothing, you know.”

He snorts, his nose wrinkling even further. “I’m no poet.” he mutters, his voice soft and sheepish.

His pupils are blown wide now, and the faint flush on his face deepens. You can’t help but grin, biting your lip to keep from teasing him too much. He looks unbearably cute, so cute, all flustered and disheveled, and it takes everything in you not to lean down and kiss him right then and there. You want to bottle the image up and keep it forever.

“Anyway.” he says quickly, his voice rising just slightly,

There’s a pause, with a sniffle that’s only half-real.

“I don’t wanna rush you.”

Twice.

“Not much else we could do with the state I’m in anyway.”

The third one is loud and deliberate, as if to seal his point, followed by a tiny, self-satisfied smirk that he’s trying — and failing — not to show.

You narrow your eyes at him, your lips twitching as you fight back a laugh. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

He just grins wider, and you shake your head, lowering the notebook to your chest, gently pressing it there with an exaggerated sigh.

“Okay.” you say. “Goodbye, Mr. Poet.” you tease, and you’re smiling fully now as you try to bring the notebook back up, but two of his fingers reach up before you can and stop you.

He blinks at you, his grin faltering for a second, confused. “Goodbye?”

“Yep.” Your hand turns out to be stronger than two little digits, so you raise the notebook, blocking his face from view, but not before you catch the faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck.

“Don’t be mean.” he grumbles.

You smile to yourself, hiding it behind the barrier. You don’t need to see him to know he’s smiling too.

He’s smiling, smiling, smiling like a fool, staring up at the ceiling lamp that hums and flickers faintly with the effort of staying on. But it’s not the dusty lightbulb above him that he sees. No, he’s not really seeing that. It’s you. His mind is too full of you. That image of you from ten seconds ago — your fingers still buried in his hair, your face tilted down, concentration etched into your features as you tried to make sense of whatever nonsense your notebook held — is branded behind his eyelids. Burned into his brain. A picture he doesn’t want to blink away. It’s like you didn’t even realise how tender you were being.

She’s so pretty when she’s reading. And sleeping. And laughing.

You’re all he can think about. The way your nose crinkles when you tease him, the way your eyes soften when you think he’s not looking. She’s so pretty when…he thinks, the words tumbling through his head like a mantra.

He feels his smile curve wider, his dry, cracked lips stinging at the corners — a small price to pay for the way his chest feels so light. His nose feels raw with each breath, like he’s inhaling sandpaper, and his throat is sore from the constant sniffles, but he doesn’t care. None of it matters, because you’re here, and he’s nestled between your thighs, and your hand is in his hair like you’ve forgotten it’s even there. The discomfort barely registers because his mind is stuck on one simple truth: She’s pretty all the time.

The heat of your body pressed against his is its own kind of medicine, in a way. You feel like the most perfect pillow to ever exist, your legs warm on either side of him like a blanket, the faint press of your hand against his scalp like the softest lullaby. His chest rises and falls slowly, the fever haze making him feel floaty, untethered — but then there’s you, keeping him right where he wants to be.

If he could breathe properly, he thinks he’d let you smother him between your thighs if you asked. Hell, he might let you do it anyway. Nothing left to lose, right? Not when he’s already in your hands. Not that he’d tell you that, not out loud. He doesn’t even want to move. Not now, not ever. You’re soft, even where the curve of your thigh meets his jaw. He could stay here forever. He wants to stay here forever. You could tell him to stay right in that spot, and he’d agree in a heartbeat, all grins and lazy nods and whispered okay, yeah, whatever you want, babe.

He sighs, his smile lingering as his eyes flutter shut. But even in the darkness, you’re still there. You’re everywhere.

And then, without warning, he lets out a soft huff of laughter, his chest barely rising with the effort.

You glance down at him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing.” he rasps, his voice low and scratchy, but the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s holding back another laugh, his nose scrunching up in that way you love.

“Nothing?” you press, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, nothing.” He sniffles, then lets out another laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Just…you. Us. This.”

You roll your eyes, half-hearted. “You’re delirious.”

“Probably.” he agrees, his grin widening.

Your fingers, warm and gentle, return to his hair, and he practically melts into you, his smile softening into something quieter. His body goes slack, the tension in his muscles easing as you comb through the messy mop of brown strands. He hums softly, a low, contented sound that makes you feel like you must be doing something right.

“You’re such a sap.” you tease, but your voice is just as soft as your touch.

“And you love it.” he murmurs, his words slurring slightly.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Damn it. You’re right.”

“Always am.”

And then he smiles again, bigger this time, like he’s remembering something wonderful.

“What now?” you ask.

“Nothing.” His voice is soft, almost dreamy. “You’re pretty. And warm. And I don’t wanna move.”

Your chest tightens, and you can’t help but smile down at him, even though he can’t see it.

“That’s fine.” you whisper. “You don’t have to.”

You’re trying — really trying — to stay focused on the open notebook in front of you. The lines blur slightly, not from the light or your eyesight but because your brain keeps wandering to the boy sprawled between your legs. Your fingers trace over a sentence you’ve read at least five times now, pretending you’re annotating something important, but it’s mostly to stop your hand from drifting back into his hair.

Your pen’s been bouncing against the page for the last five minutes, aimlessly doodling in the margins, and he’s been watching the rhythmic movement with a narrowed gaze. You’re doing your best to ignore him, trying to cling to whatever shred of productivity you can muster, but it’s a losing battle.

He’s making it impossible to concentrate.

“Y’know,” he says, voice muffled against your stomach, “you don’t have to keep pretending. We both know you’ve read the same sentence like, twenty times.”

“I’m not pretending.” you argue, though the half-smile pulling at your lips betrays you.

“You’re doodling stars.” he points out, glancing up and tilting his head like he’s caught you red-handed. “And...what is that? A smiley face?”

“It’s a sun.” you correct, but it doesn’t help your case.

He snickers. “Right. Big, happy sun. Sure. Sooo educational.”

“Some of us care about passing, Alex.”

“Some of us also care about not wasting time when we could be doing something way more fun.” he shoots back, raising a brow as if to challenge you.

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to look back at the book. “Just let me finish, okay?”

He lets out a sigh and he melts further into you, turning his head so his cheek rests on your stomach. You can feel the faint tickle of his breath through your shirt.

When you don’t respond, he sighs again, louder this time.

“What?”

“Noooothing.” he says, drawing the word out, his tone soft and a little too innocent. “But…you’ve been reading forever. And I’m bored.”

“I told you I have to finish this.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves a hand lazily in the air, like the excuse is flimsy and totally not worth acknowledging, but he at least has to pretend. “But you’ve gotta be done soon, right? What’s it been? Like, three hours?”

“Try twenty minutes.”

“Feels like three hours.” he mutters under his breath, dragging his cheek against your leg as if to emphasize the unbearable weight of time. “How much longer?” he whines.

“Not much.” you reply.

He’s purposefully pressing himself closer, as though to remind you of his presence. His fingers start drawing lazy shapes against your thigh, tracing little circles and stars that feel like they’re burning into your skin.

He’s still shifting, still fidgeting, until finally-

“Can you finish already?” His patience naps, and the next second he’s reaching out to pinch your left thigh just hard enough to make you yelp and jump.

“Hey!” you exclaim, startled, and with the motion, his head tumbles off its happy place and lands unceremoniously on the mattress. “That hurt, Al!” you laugh, rubbing the spot where his fingers dug in.

“Sorry.” he says, though the way his lips twitch tells you he’s not sorry at all. “Now come back ‘ere.”

“Fine,” you mutter, mock-annoyed, even as your hands instinctively find their way to his hair again and the word is more soaked with affection than you intend. You don’t bother picking the notebook back up — there’s no point. He’s already won.

He doesn’t say anything outright, doesn’t directly ask you to drop the studying altogether, but the way his hand reaches out, fingers brushing the back of your knee, says enough. It’s magnetic, the pull of him. And somehow, your hand decides it prefers the feel of sliding the notebook to the side, tucking it beneath the pillow, out of sight. Out of mind. Because the better sight — the prettier sight — is right here in front of you, and you’d much rather look at that.

It’s hard to care about literature or studying or anything else when he’s looking at you like that, all soft and sleepy.

“Happy now?” you whisper, and Alex’s grin widens.

“Hi.” he whispers, small and soft and gentle. Your little secret.

You can’t help but smile back. “Hi.”

And just like that, it’s happening again. That thing where a single sound from his mouth manages to send little needles shooting across your skin, a rush of pinpricks so intense it’s almost unbearable. It’s like your body’s betraying you, begging for more of him, for another word, another breath, another touch.

It’s dramatic, you know it is. Borderline ridiculous. But the worst part is, you can’t stop yourself. You need him to speak again, need it more than you need air, because if he doesn’t, you’re certain the whole world — not just your world, but the whole thing — will shatter.

And it’s terrifying, the way you’ve given him this power, handed it over so willingly. He’s just one person. One little man with messy brown hair and sleepy eyes and a smile that could probably melt steel. He shouldn’t have the ability to do this to you, to make you feel like he’s holding the universe in the palm of his hand.

But he does.

Because he’s him. And he’s him in your world, too.

“What?” he asks as he studies your face.

“Nothing.” you say, shaking your head. Your voice wavers just enough to betray you.

“Don’t look like nothing. You’re lookin’ at me funny.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not!” you insist, but you’re smiling now, and now he definitely knows he’s won.

“Yeah, you are.” he teases, and his hand finds your thigh again, but this time it’s soft, his thumb brushing lazy circles into your skin. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you look at him. His eyes are wide, and so warm you think you could fall into them and never come back.

“Just you.” you admit finally, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at right now. Then he leans up, his hand slipping from your thigh to your waist as he climbs up and presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re too good to me.” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping you. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”

“Maybe.” he says, smiling again. “But I’m still gonna keep you. Or do me best to.”

The needles are back, prickling every inch of your skin. You don’t fight them anymore because you’re not sure you’ve ever been happier to fall apart.

“Kiss me.” you say, no hesitation, no second-guessing. The words fall out of your mouth like they belong there, because they do. It’s not a question or a request, it’s a need.

A simple fact. An urgent one.

You’re not shy about it anymore, not nervous like you were the first few times. It’s the only thing on your mind, the only thing that’s been on your mind since the last time he kissed you. That was Sunday. Sunday. Three whole days too long without his lips on yours, without the weight of him pressed against you in the way only he can manage — clumsy. But perfect.

And now you’re so close. He’s tilting his head, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a soft smile as he leans in. His face is redder than usual, his nose runny and chapped from all the tissues, and his eyelashes are clumped together from the fever sweat he refuses to admit is still lingering. But he’s close now, so close you can feel the ghost of his breath brushing your lips, and you’re already bracing for the warm, electric touch of him.

So close.

Almost there-

“Achoo!”

The sneeze comes out of nowhere, loud and violent, and though it’s not directly in your face — it’s to the side, thank God — it echoes in your ears and leaves a faint ringing behind.

Your lips feel colder now, colder than they have in days, and still untouched.

“Bless you.” you whisper, trying not to laugh.

He’s already resigned back to defeat. You can tell by the way he slumps against you, his body going boneless as his head drops onto your shoulder. His face presses somewhere between your neck and the pillow. His breath is still uneven from the sneeze.

“Sorry.” he mutters.

You really want to laugh, but instead, your heart twists a little. He’s so pitiful like this, all sniffly and congested, his hair sticking to his forehead and his body too warm where it’s draped over yours. And worse than that, you can feel it — the way he’s trying to burrow into you, his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck like it always does, only to stop.

He can’t even smell you.

His nose is too backed up, and he can’t even get a whiff of his favorite spot, that little patch of you where your perfume blends with your shampoo, where the natural scent of you is so strong it’s intoxicating. It’s his weakness, his favorite thing, and you know it drives him mad every time.

Now, though, it’s like it’s just out of reach.

“God, this sucks.” he groans, and the whine in his voice is almost enough to make you coo. “I can’t even smell you. Can’t kiss you. Can’t- ugh, I hate this.”

“You’ll be fine.” you say softly, trying to soothe him.

“No, I won’t.” he argues, his words muffled against your neck. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“It’s just a cold, Al.”

“It’s your cold now.” he counters, tilting his head to squint up at you. “’Cause I definitely gave it to you. So, really, I’ve ruined both our lives.”

“Our cold.” you correct.

“Mhm, yes, that’s more accurate.” he drawls, stretching out the syllables like he’s some sort of scholar, emphasising each one in a way that could almost be annoying.

It works, though, because it puts another smile on your face, and he can’t get enough of that. Not now, not ever.

He shifts against you, sliding around on you like a slippery eel in a way that feels both deliberate and entirely uncoordinated. He doesn’t know if it’s because his body feels like it’s made of jello or if he’s actually becoming jello, but either way, after much unnecessary wriggling, his journey ends with his face planted squarely between your boobs.

Even his fever-ridden brain knows this is some kind of holy grail situation. He feels like Eve, staring at the apple. Too tempting. Too perfect. For a second, he’s completely still, like even his brain can’t comprehend the jackpot he’s just stumbled into. His breathing slows, and you swear you can almost see the little wheels turning behind his eyes.

“Alex…” you warn softly, but he doesn’t budge.

“Hmm?” he hums, his lips pressed to your shirt. He doesn’t even bother to lift his head, doesn’t even try to look apologetic. He inhales — or tries to, because his stuffy nose makes a pitiful little whistling sound — and then, without any further hesitation, he pulls himself closer.

“Al.” you try again, but it’s too late.

He gives in.

He’s already gone.

It starts with the softest little nuzzle, his nose brushing lazily against the fabric of your shirt, followed by a soft, open-mouthed kiss that sends goosebumps racing down your arms. Then, before you can say anything else, he takes it a step further, his teeth grazing you ever so lightly.

“Ow!” you exclaim, though it doesn’t actually hurt. It’s more surprising than anything, but the sound only seems to encourage him.

“Oh, really?” he murmurs, and then he does it again, this time with a little more bite, sinking his teeth in just enough to make you squirm.

“Alex!”

“I’m bored.” he says. He thinks that’s a perfectly valid excuse for whatever he’s doing.

“So you’re taking it out on me?”

“Mhm.”

And just to drive the point home, his right hand joins the party. It lands on your other boob, the one he hasn’t nibbled yet, and he gives it a squeeze like he’s trying to test its density…or something.

“Alex, do you mind?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He looks up at you with those big, brown eyes, feigning innocence even as his fingers curl a little tighter around you. “What? I’m just…conducting an experiment.”

“An experiment?” you repeat, deadpan.

“Yeah.” he says, his grin widening. “It’s, uh, for science.”

“For science?”

“Exactly.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t stop him, and he knows it. He knows it because his grin turns softer, and his fingers give an extra little squeeze like he’s thanking you silently.

“So now you’re a scientist and a poet?” you tease, trying to maintain some semblance of authority.

“Multitalented.” he replies with a shrug, before nuzzling back into your chest.

His fingers stay where they are, squeezing and testing and exploring, warm and curious and just shy of being inappropriate, and you know you should probably tell him to stop. But you don’t. Because you’re pretty sure you’d miss it if he did.

“You’re comfy.”

“You’re heavy.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. Warm and lazy and messy in all the right ways. And if his hand tightens around you just a little more? Well, you’re not about to complain.

“My head hurts.” he announces to the room like a royal decree. It’s meant for you, but maybe it’s also for the plushie sitting precariously on the edge of your desk, or the birds that might be outside, perched on the tree branches and peering in like nosy neighbors.

“I don’t know…” you start, dragging the words out.

He squints. “What?”

“I always thought your head felt pretty good.”

The room freezes.

He gasps, the kind of exaggerated, cartoonish gasp that would make anyone else laugh, but the widening of his eyes and the way his ears turn red makes it clear it’s at least half genuine. “You dirty girl.” he says, scandalized, but with a grin that betrays him.

You raise your hand, palm open and waiting.

It takes him a second to catch on — he always takes a second — but when he does, he grins even wider, and his hand meets yours with a weak high five. It’s soft, almost an afterthought, but then his fingers linger, catching yours on the way down and sliding them between his, intertwining them. It’s second nature.

It’s quiet.

And then he says it.

“Want me to give you head?”

You blink.

Now you’re the one going red. You weren’t trying to be dirty, not really. Or maybe you were, but not like that. Not like this. But here he is, taking your playful little jab and running with it, all the way into the realm of no return.

Your hands fly up to your face like a shield. “Oh my god.” you mumble, voice muffled behind your fingers.

He shifts, sitting up slightly so he can peer at you better, his smirk growing as he watches you squirm. “If you wanted me to eat your cunt,” he says, far too casually for the words coming out of his mouth, “you could’ve just said so.”

You groan, sinking further into your hands, like maybe you can disappear into them if you try hard enough. “Oh my god.” you repeat, because what else is there to say?

“Asking’s free.” he presses, leaning closer now, his voice dropping just a little, just enough to make your stomach flip. “Do you?”

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want it, but because you do want it, and the fact that you do makes your skin burn.

“Yeah.” you whisper, so quiet you’re not sure he even hears it.

Of course he does.

“Alright.”

And suddenly, his hands are on your thighs, warm and steady, and he’s smiling at you in that way that makes you feel like the whole world has shrunk down to just the two of you. His feverish warmth is radiating off of him, and it’s like you can feel his heartbeat through his palms.

He leans in, his nose brushing against your arm as he nuzzles closer, and you can’t help but shiver, your hands still half-hiding your face.

“Don’t be shy now.” he teases, his voice low and rough. “You started this, remember?”

“Okay. Okay.” You exhale deeply, as if the sound itself can steady your nerves. You’re psyching yourself up, trying to convince yourself that this is fine, that this is normal. It’s not like you haven’t done this before. It’s also not like it doesn’t make you nervous every single time.

“Mm.” he hums. He’s looking at you, not touching yet, just…looking. His eyes are heavy-lidded but sharp, scanning every detail, and it’s enough to make your skin tingle.

Then his hand reaches out to find the waistband of your leggings, pinching the fabric lightly between two fingers before letting it snap back against your skin with a soft, harmless pop.

“We’ll take this off, I think.” he murmurs.

“You think?” you ask.

With his fingers already hooked in the band, he tilts his head and smirks. “Yeah.” he says, nodding slightly. “I think so.” He pauses, though, his hands stilling for just a moment. “Is that okay?”

You nod, your fingers brushing over his as you whisper, “Yeah. That’s okay.”

“Alright.” he says, more to himself than to you.

He pulls, inching the leggings down your hips, over your thighs, and you can feel every soft graze of his knuckles against your skin as he works them down. His eyes follow the path of the fabric, drinking in every inch of skin that’s revealed, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as much as you feel the cool air brushing over you.

“You’re teasing me.” you accuse, a little breathless.

“Am I? Maybe. Can you blame me?”

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t do much to hide the flush creeping up your neck.

He tugs the leggings all the way off, letting them drop to the floor in a heap before his hands find your thighs again. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t need to. The way he’s looking at you makes your whole body buzz with warmth.

“You’re so-” He stops himself, biting back the words with a small shake of his head, like even saying them out loud would be too much for him.

“So what?” you ask.

His hands tighten just slightly and he lets out a breathy laugh. “Just. You.” He shrugs, his grin turning sheepish. “You’re so you.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say, and yet it makes your heart flutter like crazy.

“So perfect.” he whispers, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache.

His fingers keep their steady rhythm, tapping lightly on your inner thighs, playing a melody only he knows. It’s calming and maddening all at once, especially when he leans down, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. It’s barely a kiss, more of a whisper of warmth, but it’s enough to send a shiver rippling through you.

Then another. And another.

Trailing higher and higher.

Each kiss is unhurried, as if he’s got all the time in the world, as if this moment deserves its own pace, one that matches the quiet intimacy building between you. His lips linger longer with each press, warm and slightly chapped, and when his nose brushes against your skin, you can’t stop the little gasp that escapes you.

“Okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with just a hint of nervousness.

You nod, feeling your throat tighten as his thumbs press just a bit more firmly into your thighs, holding you open. “Yeah.”

His lips curve into a faint smile. He doesn’t say anything. He just tilts his head and kisses higher, closer, each touch of his mouth a little bolder. And when he stops for a second, you see him wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue before diving back in.

You’re sure it’s an unconscious move, but it makes something hot twist in your belly.

His hands are still on your thighs, fingers tracing slow, aimless patterns, and then he hooks them on the sides of your underwear. He hesitates, looking up at you again, his brows slightly furrowed in an almost boyish way.

“Can I?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

He tugs gently. The process is far from seamless. The fabric catches on his fingers, then again around your knees, and he fumbles with it, muttering under his breath.

“Damn things are stubborn.” he grumbles, and you bite back a laugh. “Sorry.” he says before finally managing to slide them all the way off. He holds them in his hand for a moment like he’s not quite sure what to do with them before tossing them aside with a sheepish grin.

“So smooth.”

“Hey, I got there in the end, didn’t I?”

“A little clumsy.” you tease.

“Yeah, well…” He trails off as his gaze lowers, and the words seem to leave him altogether.

He’s staring, openly, unabashedly, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and you can see the exact moment it hits him. That oh my god, I’m the luckiest guy in the world look that makes your cheeks burn and your heart stutter. His tongue darts out again, wetting his lips like he’s preparing to say something. He doesn’t. He just looks.

“Alex.” you murmur, your voice trembling just a little.

He blinks, as if snapping out of a trance, and shakes his head. “Sorry.” he says. He doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just…you’re so…”

His voice trails off, and you think for a second that he won’t finish the sentence. But then he does, in a voice so soft you almost don’t catch it.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The words tumble out of him like they can’t be helped, and they land so softly, so tenderly, that you feel them wrap around your chest like a warm blanket. It hits you square in the chest, the way he says it, like he’s not just describing how you look but how you are.

“Am I doing okay so far?” he asks, his lips twitching into a teasing grin.

You laugh, though it’s shaky. “Yeah. You’re doing fine.”

“Fine?” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m aiming for better than fine.”

You shake your head, unable to stop smiling. “You’re doing perfectly.” you admit, and his grin widens.

“Good.”

His gaze dips again, and he licks his lips one more time before lowering himself closer. His breath brushes over you and when his lips meet your skin again you can’t stop the shiver that runs through you.

He doesn’t miss it.

“You’re shaking.” he murmurs, glancing up at you with a look that’s equal parts concern and smugness.

“I’m fine.” you manage, but your voice wavers, and he smirks.

“Perfect, huh?” he teases, echoing your earlier words.

You don’t answer. You can’t, not when his hands squeeze your thighs again and his lips are so close, so maddeningly close, that you feel like you might burst from the anticipation.

And then he whispers, so softly it’s almost like he’s talking to himself, “God, I’m so fucking lucky.”

His mouth presses against you, and the first touch of his tongue is both heaven and hell. It’s soft at first, as though he’s trying to map you out, figure out what makes you tick. But it doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm, and when he does, it’s devastating.

You don’t understand how something so simple can feel so good. It frustrates you to your core, quite literally, that you can’t wrap your head around it — how his tongue, just a part of him, can undo you so completely. It’s maddening. It’s blissful. And worst of all, you know it will eventually have to stop.

But not yet.

His tongue moves with purpose now, parting a slick, wet path that makes your legs tremble. Any softness is gone when he presses harder, sliding his tongue into you, and it’s enough to make you gasp out loud. Your hips buck, but his hands are firmer, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs to keep you in place.

You feel the press of his nose against your clit, unrelenting, as he works his mouth on you. It’s not gentle — nothing about this is gentle. It’s messy and hot and overwhelming, and you’re not sure what’s holding you together anymore.

Your hands find their way into his hair, threading through the messy strands, and you pull. Hard. His groan vibrates against you, the sound sending shockwaves through your body, and you tug again just to feel it one more time.

The room feels stuffy, the air thick with heat and the heady weight of everything happening between you. You’re panting, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and it feels like there’s not enough oxygen in the world to keep up with what he’s doing to you.

“Alex.” you gasp, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, like a plea.

His response is a growl against you, muffled but unmistakable, and he doubles down, his tongue and lips moving with a newfound urgency.

“Fuck.” you whimper, your voice breaking as your thighs clamp around his head, but he doesn’t falter. If anything, he leans in harder, his tongue plunging deeper, and the obscene sounds of him working you over fill the room.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, and you can’t help but arch into him, chasing the sensation, chasing him. You’re not even sure when your fingers started digging into his scalp, but you feel the way he groans again, the vibration traveling straight through you.

“Please-” you choke out, though you’re not sure what you’re asking for. More? Less? A moment to catch your breath?

“Fuck.” he mutters, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against your skin. “You’re gonna rip it all out, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” you manage to say, your voice breathless and shaky.

But Alex doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let up for a second, and when his tongue flicks just right and his nose grinds against that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, your head falls back, and your vision blurs.

“Fuck, Alex…” you cry, your voice trembling, your body trembling. Everything feels wet and hot and unbearable in the best way.

You tug at his hair one last time, harder than before, and he groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

His mouth is everywhere and nowhere at once. His tongue slides deep, slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to write something inside you, but you can’t read it. You can’t think. All you know is the way his nose bumps against you every time he presses forward, and it’s like an accident he keeps having on purpose. He pulls back, just a little, and you think maybe he’s going to stop, but then he tilts his head and dives back in. It’s messy, wetter than it probably needs to be, but that only makes it better. The sound of it fills the room, fills your ears, fills your head.

“There-” you gasp.

He hums against you, the vibration sending sparks through every nerve in your body. You’re not sure if it’s a response or if he’s just satisfied with himself, but you don’t care. It feels too good to care.

His nose nudges against you again, harder this time, and your hips jerk up without permission. His fingers tighten on your thighs, holding you down, keeping you where he wants you.

“Stay still.” he murmurs, his voice muffled by you.

You don’t stay still. You can’t.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your thighs are trembling. You don’t know how much more you can take.

“Come on.” he murmurs against you, his breath hot and humid. “Let me have it.”

You don’t think you could stop yourself even if you wanted to. Your thighs clamp around his head, and your back arches, and everything inside you feels like it’s shattering and coming back together all at once.

His tongue keeps moving, and his hands keep holding, and when you finally come undone, it’s all his. Every last bit of it.

You’re gasping, trembling, your hands still tangled in his hair, and he’s still there, still licking, still taking everything you have to give.

“Fuck…” you whisper, your voice barely audible, and he pulls back just enough to look up at you again.

He’s grinning, his lips shiny and red, and he looks so damn proud of himself.

“Hi.” he says, his voice soft and teasing, and you can’t help but laugh, even though you’re still catching your breath.

“Hi.” you manage to say back, your voice weak but warm.

And then he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh — maybe you should let him stay there forever.

“That was quick.” His voice is soft, laced with a little shyness and something hopeful he’s trying to hide. “Was it good?”

You’re still still floating somewhere far away in the haze he’s left you in. Words are a struggle, but you manage to muster, “Yeah, yeah.” You sound as wrecked as you feel. “Good.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You don’t say anything, but your fingers curl gently into his hair, holding him there for just a second longer, as if to tell him without words: I don’t want you to move.

But he does. Slowly, his lips trace a path upward, leaving soft, fleeting kisses along your skin. Each one feels like a promise, like he’s trying to tell you something he doesn’t have the words for. When he finally reaches your face, he pauses, hovering close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips.

“Can I?” he whispers, even though he doesn’t need to.

You nod, barely moving, and that’s all he needs. He closes the space between you, his mouth soft and warm against yours.

He’s savoring it. And then you taste it — you. The faint, lingering remnants of yourself on his lips, and it makes something in you twist and melt all at once. You kiss him deeper, your hands slipping down to cup his jaw, and he sighs into it. He’s been waiting for this moment as much as you have.

It’s messy and sweet, his nose brushing against yours, his lips moving against yours like they’ve always belonged there. You pull back for a breath, but he chases you, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your cheek. He can’t bear to let you go.

“You taste good.” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, and the way he says it isn’t teasing — it’s awestruck, like he’s genuinely been left amazed.

You watch as he wipes his chin and mouth with the back of his hand, but then his nose scrunches, and his face freezes. “Oh no…” he mumbles, already covering half his face with one hand while the other gestures toward the nightstand. “Gimme the-”

It takes you a second to catch on, your blissed-out brain working slower than usual, but then you see where he’s pointing. “Oh! Here” you say, grabbing the tissues and passing them over.

“Thanks.” he mutters, barely getting the word out before he sneezes into a wad of crumpled white. Twice. The force of it rocks him forward, and you can’t help but laugh softly as he sniffles, wiping at his nose like a kid.

“Bless you.” you say, your voice still a little breathy.

He looks at you through watery eyes, his cheeks flushed from the sneezes or maybe from everything else. “Thanks.”

You think he’s done, but then he takes another handful of tissues and surprises you by leaning down. His movements are gentle, careful, as he wipes between your legs and up your thighs. It’s clumsy and sweet, and your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of him being so tender.

“You don’t have to-” you start to say, but he cuts you off.

“I know.” he says, his voice soft, almost sheepish. “But I want to.”

You let him, how could you not?

Once he’s done, he gets up to toss the tissues in the trash, and you take the opportunity to tug your leggings back up, your hands working quickly before he turns back around.

When he does, he looks at you for a moment, his hair a mess and his cheeks still pink. There’s something soft in his eyes, something warm that makes you feel tight all over in the best way.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quiet but sincere.

“Yeah.” you say, smiling up at him. “Are you?”

He grins, a little lopsided, a little tired. “Always, with you.”

Your face heats at the words, and you roll your eyes to cover it up. “Cheesy.”

“True.” he counters, plopping down next to you on the bed.

He’s close, so close, and you feel his warmth as he leans his head against your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek. “What now?” he asks, his voice low and a little hoarse.

“Rest.” you say simply, because he looks like he needs it, and maybe you do too.

“Rest sounds good.” he agrees, his eyes already half-closed.

a/n: I feel like the smut is lowkey bad lmao. Anyway. Based on some requests I cannot find right now but someone said something about pegging sick al once and another was about tutoring and I did neither of those here but they did inspire it!

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x oc #alex turner fluff #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #fetus alex turner #smut #goblinontour

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avo-gal · 6 months ago

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I came up with this au ages ago and just randomly remember it loll.

The doodles are all super messy and unfinished lol😅

Explanation of this au>>

So if u have been following me for a while u prob know abt my villain au (or as I usually call it the au where Varigo take over Corona). This is the same au just from Nurus pov. Bc I was thinking abt this au again and what happens with Yong and Nuru. In this post I'm gonna be explaining all the lore for this au so u might wanna get comfy lol.

First let's start with Nuru bc that's what these drawings are Abt. (Quick tw for trypophobia)

In this au Nuru goes searching for a way to stop the meteor shower that destroys her kingdom in doing so she finds a stone which can restart time so every night she goes onto her balcony and restarts the day (like miss peregrines home for peculiar children) but this stone does have a limit. If she goes too far back in time it becomes excruciatingly painful and could kill her bc... (Drumroll) The stone is slowly corrupting and killing her body! Yay :D if she uses the stone for too long it will completely corrupt her body and kill her. Her dying would look like a mix between Luz's dying scene and this scene in a junji ito book. The magic would basically rot her insides and burn out through her skin :p

As long as she doesn't overuse her powers she shouldn't die for at least 45 ish years. U can already see corruption in her hair and eyes tho. Nuru desperately wants to find another way to save her kingdom but if she leaves for too long the meteor shower will destroy the kingdom and she doesn't want to burden another with the powers of the stone. So that's why she allies with Corona to find another solution. Koto has now become a very powerful kingdom due to Nuru's powers and has many allies (I will talk more Abt that later). Nuru and Varian are pretty similar in this au (I'll also talk abt that more a bit later) but Nuru tends to be more sure Abt her decisions and is less out of it than Varian. Nuru is also very possessive almost? And doesn't like criticism. Like REALLY doesn't like criticism (do with that info as u please) Also the song in the first drawing is queen of hearts by flailing idiot.

Amber

I'm doing amber next bc I don't have as much to say Abt her. Amber finds out that she has more family (Varian) and sets out to find him. When she does find him Varian is very skeptical of her. At first Amber tried to see the good side of Varian but inevitably can't deny he's insane. But she ends up finding out his sob story and decides to help (she's big on family in this au). Varian still isn't rlly sure what to think abt her but hey free labour so who cares.

One day whilst Koto and Corona are having some kinda transaction or whatever Nuru just kinda sees Amber and is like. That one. I want that. Varian is kinda like alr I don't rlly care Abt her. And they essentially have an arranged marriage but they learn to love each other (and honestly have the healthiest relationship in this au).

Yong/allies

I didn't have a huge amount planned for Yong at first but here's what I'm thinking. In this au Bayangor is a very poor Kingdom. One day whilst Nuru was searching for a way to save her kingdom she visits Bayangor and comes across an incredibly smart kid. She invites him to join her journey and promises that if she finds a way to stop the meteors his family can live in her castle bc he doesn't deserve to live in the streets. Basically after that Nuru practically adopts Yong lol and Bayangor becomes a close allie to Koto a big reason for that being despite how poor and small the kingdom is it does actually have some pretty good fuel resources. But no other kingdoms ever try to become allies because of how dead Bayangor looks.

I was gonna talk abt Varigo and Nuru and Varians similarities as well but idk if Tumblr has a word limit bc that will prob be triple how much is written here and this already super long😅 so I'll do it in the next post I have so much more to say but I'll put it all in the next post!!

Anyways u r so amazing for sitting through all that!!! <33 here's some snax <333

🍣🍝🍰🍨🥞🌮🍕🍟🌭🧁

#vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #varigo #vat7k nuru #nuru vat7k #amber vat7k #varian vat7k #varian tts #yong vat7k #art #fanart #vat7k fanart #villian au #Spotify

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luthsthings · 10 months ago

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Sims 4 x 10 Years!

Ten years ago today, I booked the day off on my work schedule and played a lot of Sims 4.

I'd been a Simmer since 2000, after one of my kids asked for the game because they'd seen it at a friend's house. I played The Sims, and then Sims 2, and then Sims 3. Sims 3 and my computer didn't get on too well, and I fought it a lot, wanting to play rotationally as a micromanager! When the Sims 4 trailers started coming out, I felt like they'd finally made a version of the game that was really for me, as a micromanaging rotational player who doesn't want to restart for new packs and new worlds, and who likes some quirk and exaggeration.

So on September 2, 2014, I installed Sims 4. (I'd preordered, of course!) I downloaded trailer Sims from the Gallery (I still have a soft spot for Amber -- in one of my saves, back around 2015, she married Elvis Presley). I giggled at Sims sticking their fingers in their ear while they cooked. I got annoyed by the push-ups. I completely failed at making a roof. A Sim read a book while on the toilet and I was delighted. I took my Willow Creek Sim to visit the bar in Oasis Springs and enjoyed the view there (I like the dinos).

I made a self-Sim and spent lots of time tweaking her face till my husband came into the room, glanced at my monitor, and said, "Hey, that's actually you!" She's still my self-Sim (over on my avatar there). I just update her look now and then as I update my own.

I had a lot of fun, and I found myself using Sims as a new creative outlet in ways I hadn't so much before. I felt creative.

Eventually I confessed to my daughter that I'd actually played with my self-Sim. Here she is as a scientist back in 2015. Once upon a time, in an earlier version of the game, we -- me and my kids -- were playing with "us" in game and I died in a model rocket accident. This was traumatic and I was not supposed to play with "us" anymore. This time I did not die.

And here I am still playing! (But my hair went white.) I've had three-day saves and seven-year saves (RIP that save!). I've played every pack, but there are still base game things I haven't done! Sometimes I get really caught up in too much micromanaging with the game (townies really do often need fixing), then a new pack comes out and I try new things and it's a lot of fun again. It makes me laugh.

I've also made new friends in Sims communities and helped lots of Simmers keep playing the game. I started doing that back in 2014. A lot of the Sims community back then was focusing on what was bad about Sims 4. I was having fun with it, though, and enjoyed helping other people on the Forums who just wanted to do that.

That just kind of... morphed. It turned into some Forums posts gathering scattered info about upcoming packs from the various places SimGurus were saying things (I stopped doing those a couple of years ago -- there are websites gathering that info now, and a lot less places it turns up too). It turned into threads gathering info about mods that got broken in big game patches... and that was way back in 2015! I'm delighted that it turned into a whole thing in the community, with different places providing the info different ways. Getting to know the modding community after starting that has been a lot of fun. I even brushed off my old programming knowledge from high school and took over some mods from a modder I'd gotten to know well. I do like the lack of punch cards in modern programming!

I'm also super thankful to EA and Maxis for inviting me some years ago to be a Game Changer (the program that morphed into the EA Creator Network). I love the connections I have with other creators and storytellers and support people in the EACN, even if I feel really tiny next to the big names with their thousands and thousands of followers (but a quick thank you to my little group of Patrons! I appreciate you a ton!). I am also very appreciative of the gifted packs from EA that I receive as part of the EACN. They've helped make it a little bit easier to volunteer my time to supporting other Simmers, even if I do now have to put disclaimers on gameplay content I post, which sometimes feels a bit silly.

tldr: Happy 10th Birthday, Sims 4! I hope it's a fabulous one.

And now I'm going to grab some lunch, do some chores, then dive back into my current save. Cassandra has two love interests to consider, and that jewel is charging up. Plus she really needs a cat. And some actual income. And some improvements in her spellcasting (my previous save's Cassandra was a Mermaid). And that's not to start on Alexander building some skills before he heads off to uni for Robotics...

Psst...

Don't forget to mark on your calendar the next anniversary. The Sims franchise will be 25 on February 4, 2025!

#simblr #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 anniversary #the sims 4 anniversary #ts4 anniversary

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holylulusworld · 2 years ago

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Two bikes (1) - Angsttober 8

Summary: You’re back in your hometown and meet two men from your past.

Pairing: former Jax Teller x fem!Reader (pre-story), Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, language, kinda cheating, implied/mentions of past cheating

Trope: Angst

A/N: I wanted Jax and Biker!Bucky in one fic. So suffer with me...

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Two bikes masterlist

Back in town. Back to square one. Restart. Doing it all over.

You huff when you get out of your car. It doesn’t fit right in, just like you. It’s too expensive and conspicuous, for a small town like Charming. And you’re not the girl leaving this town with only a few bucks in your pocket but so many dreams.

It can’t be helped. You decided to come back here to find the inspiration for your next book. Change is what you want.

New place. New book. New you.

“Y/N?”

Crap. You didn’t think anyone would recognize you so soon. But here you are, finding yourself in the embrace of the man you ran away from so many years ago. “Hi, Jax.”

Fuck, he smells the same, and it still feels good being in his arms.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. I heard rumors about a VIP coming to our town.” He releases you and takes a step back to drink you in. “Look at you. All fancy and grown. You look…” Jax can’t find the words. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t expect a reception committee,” you chuckle. Jax smiles as you take your time to drink him in. He wears torn jeans, a white tee, and a leather jacket. You can see that he’s second-in-command now, and sigh. When you left town, you had hoped Jax would turn his back on the club and do something more…legal. “I see you’re still with them.”

“It’s my family,” he hastily replies, but his tone lacks enthusiasm. “We are having a get-together tonight. A barbecue with family and friends. Why don’t you come too?”

“Jax,” you exhale sharply. “I haven’t seen most of them in years. I don’t think they want the girl they met once or twice years ago at their party.”

“Sweetheart, you’re still part of the family,” he shrugs. “Come on. Gemma will freak out seeing you all grown and Opi will love seeing you.”

“That big dummy is still around? I thought he’d leave you,” you snicker. “You were glued together at your hips if I recall right.”

“Well, he’s my best friend,” Jax grabs your hand. “Please come and have a little fun. For the old times.”

“I-“ you lick your lips. You knew that you’d eventually run into Jax and the others. If you want to start anew – why not see your old friends and Jax again? “Okay.”

“You can come around at any time, Y/N,” he grins. “If you want to, I’ll pick you up.”

“Nah,” you shake your head. This will go too far. You’re not ready to be back on a bike with Jax. “I’ll drive. I don’t trust you with speed and such.”

The reunion went surprisingly smoothly. Gemma hugged you, and wouldn’t stop asking questions. Opi offered a beer and a bear hug and the others greeted you like an old friend.

It almost felt like you never left. Almost.

You’re watching the others talk and having fun while Jax tries to talk you into going for a ride in the morning.

He has you caged against the wall, one hand next to your head, and his lips dangerously close to yours. Jax whispers your name and says all the right things.

Damn him. He easily had you wrapped around his finger in no time. Forgotten are the heartbreak and all the tears you shed for him.

“Y/N, tell you feel the same. Say that you feel there’s still this spark between us,” he leans impossibly closer to brush his lips over yours. “Sweetheart.”

“Jax.” You breathe out. “I-“ You open your mouth when he claims your lips. And you wrap your arms around him to hold him close.

“I knew it,” he nips at your lips, eagerly tasting you. “The moment I saw you standing next to your car, looking a little lost, I knew you’d come back to me.”

“Jax, it’s not that easy,” you grip his jacket tightly, not wanting him to pull away. “Maybe we can…”

“Jax, have a look at this. We need your help,” Tig ruins the intimate moment. He drags Jax away, unaware that you are about to do something stupid.

“Later,” you mouth as Jax glances at you. He nods, giving you a cracked smile before following Tig.

You’re pacing back and forth. Jax went to his room some time ago and you try to decide if you want to let your heart win tonight.

"Maybe this is the chance you've been waiting."

You take a deep breath and decide to go to his room and take the chance on him. Maybe this time, it won’t end in heartbreak.

You want to knock and feel like a fool. This used to be so easy when you were just horny and silly teens. Now you are a woman, and he’s a man. The man you still desire.

Without thinking twice, you open the door, pushing it open. You smile and want to tell Jax that you are ready to go on a ride with him tomorrow.

“What the fuck!” Your heart drops, and you feel like someone sent you back in time only for you to walk in on Jax and some other girl.

“Sweetheart…Y/N…” Jax gasps as you catch him red-handed with one of the girls from the strip club Tig wouldn’t stop talking about.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to stop you from ruining whatever that was not ten minutes ago,” you laugh at your stupidness.

You turn to leave and slam the door shut behind you. It’s not the first time in your life that someone made a fool out of you. But tonight, you did this to yourself.

“Babe, please wait,” Jax stumbles out of the room. He’s only in his boxers and tries to explain why he went from kissing you to fucking that girl. “I can explain…”

“You want to explain this?” you angrily point at the door. “Save it, Jax. You didn’t change one bit. One moment you sweet-talk to me and kiss me and the next you fuck her." You choke on your tears. “You made me feel like we got a second chance.”

Shaking your head, you try to hold back more tears. “It’s my fault. It was foolish of me to believe that for once I wasn't second best to you. How could I? If I’m so unimportant to you that you fuck her minutes after you kissed me.”

“Babe, we aren’t together, and,” he runs his fingers through his messed-up hair, “you got me so hard. I didn’t want to fuck things up and pounce on you. I just needed to release steam.”

“See, that’s the problem, Jackson Teller,” you silently sniffle. “You don’t even feel guilty for hurting me all over again. Ten minutes, Jax. You had to wait for ten minutes to get your dick wet. I’m glad it took me those ten minutes because you’ll never be faithful.”

“Please, let’s talk. We can go inside and…” He can only watch you step away from him. “Sweetheart.”

“I don’t need this and,” you push against his chest to slam him into the door, “I don’t have to listen to your lies. You’re right. We’re not together. We are nothing to each other. Only a faded memory. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Wait…I…”

“You better go back inside and finish what you started with her. At least give the poor girl an orgasm after all the trouble…”

You storm off, and shoulder past bikers. Gemma wants to stop you, but you’re too angry and hurt to even listen to her. Instead, you run toward your car and speed off.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” you slam your hands on the steering wheel. It feels like the world decided to fuck you over once again. “No. You can’t just die out here in the middle of nowhere.”

It’s all too much. Being back in your hometown. Meeting your high school sweetheart only for him to break your heart again.

You sit in silence for a moment and think about all the decisions leading you back to him. Bad choices, you guess.

You hide your face in the palm of your hands. How could your fresh start end like this?

You jump when someone knocks at your window. Great. Now you drew attention toward you and your car.

“Hey, why are you lurking around in front of our club?” The man asks. “Are you with the cops? We do nothing illegal here.”

Your heart races when the man knocks at your window again. If fate wants to fuck you over some more, so be it. You roll down the window to look at the man.

“Sorry. Uh-my car just…” you sniffle. “The engine died, and I can’t get it back to life. I wasn’t lurking, just thinking about what to do now.”

He looks inside your car, but his features soften when he looks at your teary eyes.

“Hi. I didn’t want to scare you, doll. Do you want me to have a look at the engine? I know a thing or two about cars.”

“James? James Barnes,” You blink a few times to check if you saw right. “Is that you?”

“You know me?” He asks, looking a little confused.

“It’s me, Y/N Y/L/N. We went to the same high school. You probably don’t remember me. I was a little shy, and you were two years ahead of me at school.”

“Wait…” He wrinkles his forehead. “You were the cute girl Jax Teller was dating. I always wondered how he got so lucky.”

You clear your throat, not wanting to talk about Jax, and what he did to you. Back then and today. “He didn’t feel lucky, I guess.”

“What did he do, doll?”

“I don’t feel like talking tonight. Let’s say he liked to stray. Back then, and recently,” you give him a cracked smile. “He’s the reason I drove out of town only to end up here.”

“A shame. He should’ve valued you more, doll,” he flashes you a stunning smile. “If you open the hood for me, I’ll have a look at the engine.”

“That’s very kind of you, James.”

“Call me Bucky doll,” he grins when you open the hood. “A pretty lady like you can always call me Bucky…”

Two bikes (2)

Tags in reblog.

#jax teller x reader #bucky barnes x reader #jax teller x you #bucky barnes x you #biker!bucky barnes x reader #angst #tw: cheating #kinktober vs flufftober 2023 #biker au

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evadnesworld · 10 days ago

Text

Nameless, Do You Belong Here? Lloyd Garmadon x female

Chapter 2: Sterilization Process

<<<prev next>>>

Chapter Summary: Waking up in a nice sterile room, devoid of germs and history. Is that a good thing? It's like hitting restart on a game except you didn't want to and it was more like your console crashed. Whatever, you have bigger problems to face. Like reallyyy big problems. Buckle up cutie!

Notes: I'm uploading this from AO3 so imagine my surprise when I see the difference in writing styles this story has experienced in just 3 chapters. Buckle up to see the next chapter cuz it's style and feeling changes monumental. It'll probably go back to it's regular style tho... idk...

Original AO3 Chapter

purple divider by @/dxstoeskyvjbess

content warning: destruction, violence

Fate has a peculiar way of writing its stories. One moment you're turning a page in your life, and the next, you're being written into an entirely different book.

I wish someone had warned me about the weight of choices. About how a single decision-like picking up an old book from a dusty shelf-could rewrite your entire existence.

The day I died started like any other, until it didn't. Now the details slip through my fingers like water, leaving only the most crucial moments crystallized in my memory: the screech of tires, the flash of metal, and the strange way the world seemed to ripple, like ink bleeding through paper.

The realization hit harder than the truck ever could. Dying was one thing. Waking up alive…? That was a whole new level of messed up. I'd assumed I'd just been patched up after the accident. I was wrong.

Fluorescent lights glared, turning the sterile room the color of bone. Tubes snaked from my arms, connected to machines chirping like frantic birds. The room was empty except for me, and expensive. This wasn’t just a hospital room; it was a freaking suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city sprawling below, like an urban novel bound in twinkling lights. Silk sheets whispered against my skin, the gown embroidered with some random name. Did someone change my birth certificate while I was knocked out? Wealth screamed from every corner, a mocking contrast to the life Mom and I knew, where we counted every penny.

Thinking about hospitals brought the pain roaring back. It seared through my side. I fumbled for the call button - another ridiculously fancy thing - praying it would actually summon help.

The truth crept in like frost on a window. "Where are my parents?" I asked the nurse during one of her hourly checks. She paused mid-note, her pen hovering above the chart. Something in her hesitation made my stomach drop. Without a word, she slipped from the room, whispers trailing behind her like shadows as she consulted with the doctor in the hallway.

I was bothered by how they treated this minor, and relatively normal question, so I asked once more.

The nurse who seemed to be such a splendid person, with a rather bubbly personality, befitting her goldilocks-like hair, with ever so genteel eyes, had looked away. Condoling eyes avoiding mine at every given moment.

“I’m so sorry, but they passed away some time ago. I know that must be hard to hear.”

The words hung in the sterile air of the room, refusing to take root. Passed away...a phrase meant to soften the blow, but it cut deeper than any directness could have. My hands trembled, a frantic, involuntary dance of denial. No. Not Mom. The very thought was a physical blow, not a metaphorical ripping out of my heart, but a bone-deep ache in my chest that stole my breath. My throat tightened, a lump forming that threatened to suffocate me. This can't be real. A stubborn defiance, a trait inherited from the very woman they claimed was gone, surged through me.

"How long ago?" I managed to choke out, my voice a mere whisper.

“ How long?” The word scratched its way out of my raw throat. My fingers clenched the silk sheets, bunching the luxurious fabric into tight, white-knuckled fists. Each ragged breath felt like a betrayal. I was on the verge of screaming. The nurse flinched, her hand hovering over a call button.

“It happened a long time ago, when you were very little. I know this might feel confusing-do you want to talk about it?”

Time halted, like those sound effects of a record player screeching.

I paused, looked at her with an incredulous expression... Is this girl on something? Is she serious? Unless I had somehow conjured a mother who paid the rent, cooked my meals, and comforted me through every meltdown, that just couldn’t be true. I knew I wasn’t crazy enough to hallucinate ten or more years of my life.

There was no way this was like one of those manhwas I read right? Maybe it was coming to bite me in the butt because I had decided to stay up reading villainess-reincarnation-isekai manhwas instead of sleeping.

But I wouldn’t dwell on this-after all, the mere thought was preposterous. I would fall asleep, wake up, and find myself in a hospital, though certainly not one this fancy. Given our lack of financial resources, the hospital I’d end up in would likely be far less impressive, perhaps even a little rundown. Yet, despite its flaws, it would offer me a sense of comfort-something this sterile, lifeless room utterly lacked.

Maybe I was wealthy in this dream, but I did not have anything familiar, not my friends not my family, nor my favorite library.

...

My eyes opened once again.

A lot of eye-opening right?

Medical equipment surrounded me like mechanical guardians, some familiar as old friends, others as alien as artifacts from another world. The Holter monitor counted out my survival in steady beeps-a rhythm that should have been reassuring but instead felt like a mocking reminder: alive, alive, alive. But in which version of my story?

The hospital air tasted of antiseptic and artificial lavender, a combination that seemed designed to mask the underlying scent of fear. Every surface gleamed with an unnatural shine, as if this reality had been polished too bright, too perfect. Even the silence between the monitor's beeps felt wrong-too thick, too intentional, like the pause before a plot twist in a well-crafted story.

The tears came without warning, hot and relentless. Reality crashed through my defenses like waves breaking against a shore, each surge bringing fresh pain that felt too sharp, too real to be a dream. The world around me dissolved into chaos-nurses and doctors rushed in, their voices a distant hum beneath the sound of my own heartbreak. Something catastrophic was happening, but it wasn't just in this hospital room. It was happening inside me, where the story I thought I knew was being violently rewritten.

I believed I would wake up in my world, but I was stuck in this alien world. The realization dawned on me, I was trapped here. There was no other explanation for this, after all.

I couldn’t calm my body down. I glanced outside-big mistake. Possibly the worst mistake of my life. Why? Because instead of reassuring me, it shoved me straight into an even deeper pit of despair.

See, my very private hospital room had a massive window with a prime view of the city-first-class seats, apparently, to witness absolute chaos. And by chaos, I mean a colossal spider draped over the entire skyline like it owned the place. That thing was not there yesterday. To make things worse, a raging storm swirled above, painting the sky with violent streaks of purple lightning and sending pieces of the city into freefall-one of which, fun fact, was currently hurling straight toward me.

Time slowed. The steady beeping of the machine beside me cut out, replaced by eerie silence. The once- slightly -soothing scent of lavender evaporated, making way for the much less pleasant aroma of wet concrete and dirt. The bright, sterile hospital lights-the same ones that made me feel like the ash baby every time I opened my eyes-began flickering violently before screeching their last breath and exploding in a shower of sparks.

Well. At least I didn’t have to deal with those awful cool-toned lights anymore.

Unfortunately, time only felt like it was slowing down-it wasn’t actually doing me any favors. So yeah, no time to sprint downstairs and avoid my inevitable doom. It’s like the universe had a personal vendetta against me. First, the acceptance letter. Then, the truck . And now? A freaking chunk of rock.

But whatever, no time to dwell on my tragic luck-especially when I spotted some red figure casually hopping onto the incoming boulder like it was a stepping stone. This thing-who I will now officially refer to as an alien -proceeded to slice the entire boulder to bits, effectively canceling my immediate death sentence. Yay, right?

Wrong.

Because instead of being crushed, I now had a shattered window pelting me with glass shards, slicing up my cheek, hands, and everywhere else. Great. Just great. Now I looked like a budget version of Bloody Mary.

My survival instincts-aka pure panic -kicked in, and I whipped my head to the side. No way was I letting glass blind me too. Without thinking (which, let’s be honest, is my default setting), I shot up so fast that even The Flash would’ve been jealous. Destination? The now broken glass door-because escaping was the obvious move if I didn’t want to be turned into a pile of rubble.

But alas, the universe was really determined to get rid of me.

The door? Gone. Poof. Disappeared. I know-confused me too. Turns out, the giant freaking spider that had been keeping a respectable distance was now not keeping a respectable distance at all . In one glorious swoop, it yeeted itself right into my hospital room, absolutely demolishing the wall where the door used to be.

Oh, and for extra spice? The other exit was obliterated too.

So now, here I stood-stranded on the highest floor of this hospital, surrounded by two whole walls , no roof, and zero exits. Fantastic.

My luck is just fantastic , right? Oh, absolutely. (That was sarcasm, by the way.) Because guess what?

The spider started growling at me .

Oh, what a lovely sound for sore ears. As if my day couldn’t get any worse, this thing -which, mind you, had just been launched 500 feet like a volleyball-was somehow completely fine. Not paralyzed, not stunned, just chilling. And, because the universe hates me, it decided to peer over to its left.

...Guess where left was?

That’s right- exactly where I stood , trembling like a wet dog fresh out of a bath. The spider locked eyes with me, and I swear, my soul left my body for a second. Then, because of course it did, it started sprinting right at me.

But hey, maybe karma exists after all, because the brittle foundation of the hospital -or, you know, what little remained of it -decided it had had enough . The floor collapsed beneath the spider, forcing it to leap backward to avoid getting squashed like a normal spider under a farmer’s boot.

Which, unfortunately, meant I was now the one falling to my doom.

I gave up, honestly. Like, what was I even supposed to do ? Scream? Yeah, sure, like that was gonna magically grant me wings and turn me into a discount Tinkerbell. So, I just let gravity do its thing.

As I plummeted faster and faster, I closed my eyes and thought about all the cute dogs I had been looking to adopt from various shelters and Craigslist -because hey, if I was gonna die, at least I’d go out thinking about something wholesome.

But no. The world wasn’t done messing with me.

It was like fate itself was playing a game of "You’re gonna die-sike ! You’re gonna live-sike! Just kidding, you’re actually gonna die-sike again !"

And right before I could become a pancake, boom -another alien.

This time, a green one , swooping in at the last second to rudely interrupt my dramatic, rubble-covered end.

As though he were my knight in shining armor and I, an obviouslyyy gorgeous damsel in distress, he swooped in and caught me. His arm wrapped securely around my waist as he barked out orders-either through an intercom or, who knows, maybe just to the voices in his head.

I took a moment to process my surroundings. My mom always said I had a keen eye, and now, more than ever, I wished I didn’t.

The city was in ruins. Skyscrapers and small buildings alike spewed thick, suffocating smoke, some even engulfed in flames. The air was filled with an overwhelming cacophony-horns blaring, metal crunching, distant sirens, and screams slicing through the chaos. My gaze landed on what was once the proud and pristine hospital. The very place I had been sitting in mere moments ago was now reduced to dust and debris.

Down below, doctors and nurses scrambled to wheel patients toward the more stable wing of the hospital. And then, I saw her- my nurse .

She was running. Rushing toward my room.

Only to find it completely gone .

Her face twisted in horror, raw and gut-wrenching, as the realization hit her-she thought I had died. That I had been crushed beneath the rubble. That I was now frozen in time, forever young, forever gone.

But then, her eyes flickered upward-and met mine.

I could see the terror drain from her body in an instant. My expression, a mixture of shock and gratitude, was enough to tell her that by some miracle, I was alive . Relief overtook her, and she collapsed to her knees, the weight of the moment crashing over her.

She wasn’t fast enough. That’s what she thought. That she had failed me.

But she hadn’t.

She pushed herself up almost immediately, waving frantically, calling out my name, rising on her tiptoes to scan me for injuries from afar.

And yet, even as I locked eyes with her, my mind drifted elsewhere.

I looked past her. Past the smoke. Past the devastation. And then I noticed something wrong .

Some of the buildings in the distance... weren’t supposed to be there.

The skyline was different. Familiar streets had been replaced by massive skyscrapers I had never seen before-structures that did not belong in my city. Buildings I should have recognized, yet they were foreign, misplaced, impossible.

If I needed confirmation that I wasn’t in my world anymore, this was it.

Well, almost .

I wasn’t ready to say it yet. To truly accept that I had been pulled into something beyond my reality. Maybe there was another explanation-maybe this was some elaborate hallucination.

Or maybe... maybe I had spent so long refusing to acknowledge my real world- a world where my parents were dead -that I had somehow ended up in a different one entirely. The same way one engrosses themselves in books with drastic differences to their own reality, some resorting to writing another world for the sole purpose of escaping and coping with their own.

Existential crisis time! Well, not quite yet. First, I had to face the alien who was securely holding me in his arms. His identity remained a mystery, the hood covering his head offering no clues-well, not in normal circumstances. Right now, though, I could make out a tuft of rich blonde hair, the kind you’d expect on princes and kings. But what really caught my attention were his eyes. His eyes were a deep, almost unsettling black. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw swirls of purple and green within them, like two opposing forces swirling together. Maybe it was just the dust and debris playing tricks on my eyes, because when I blinked, the colors were gone, leaving behind eyes as dark and smooth as obsidian. They reminded me of Minecraft obsidian. Pretty.

This guy was obviously gorgeous. The part of his mask that had been torn away revealed freckles scattered across his face like stars-no, scratch that, they put the stars to shame. They littered his face like the night sky, though they weren’t too prominent. Only at this close distance could I actually get a good look at them. Still, it was the features I could see now that seemed beautiful, even with only one-third of his mask ripped off.

I reached out to touch his mask, and that earned me a shocked glance from him. His reaction was so strong, it nearly made him drop me. Honestly, I would've been mad if he wasn’t the reason I wasn’t falling to my doom right now, considering how high up we still were.

“Hey, don’t mess with my mask right now. I’ve got too much to worry about.” His voice was rushed, a mix of annoyance and confusion.

I scoffed, wishing I could cross my arms. “I’m not stupid enough to try to unmask my alien savior. I was just trying to fix it. I saw part of your face, and anyone with a brain could piece it together and figure out who you are.” With one quick motion, I kind of... maybe... aggressively adjusted his mask downwards to prevent any chance of him being discovered. (My bad! I was supposed to do it nicely, but he abruptly stopped so it was a tad bit more violent than intend.)

This was the least I could do for my savior. He was like my own personal Spider-Man. I wasn’t going to be selfish enough to be saved by him and then turn around and expose him to the world.

“Fix it? Yeah, because adjusting my mask like that is really going to help. I appreciate the ‘concern,’ but next time, maybe just leave the mask alone.” He seemed on edge, but honestly, I understood. My emotions were all over the place after almost dying.

“You should’ve just said thank you,” I muttered. It was childish, I knew, but still!

“Well, you could’ve said thank you, too. I haven’t heard that from you after I saved you from your doom.” He raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and annoyance. More annoyance than anything...

“Thanks.” I murmured, where did my manners go...

As the spider continued wreaking havoc across the city, buildings around us continued collapsing around us- providing no solace. This lack of a safe oasis from this destructive monster forced this green alien to continue running around with me. His tight hold on my waist never eases, if this occurred under any other circumstance then perhaps, I would swoon, but that was the last thing on my mind right now.

Soon, we found a relatively safe area he could drop me off in, right behind a sign displaying a new refreshment. Toka-Tola, a sign displaying a new refreshment, was in its own sweet aesthetic, though the rocks chucked everywhere lessened the appeal of it by a long shot. Was that this world’s version of Coca-a-Cola?

He glanced at me taking into account my constant fidgeting as I played with my hands, still trying to figure all of this out. I mean why did this happen to me of all people, and what did this mean for me? I had no one I knew here, monsters weren’t the norm for me back home, and if it wasn’t for the chaos erupting all around me then I would have a freak reaction right now. But there was no time for that.

“Stay here.” Her ordered, his voice low yet just a smidge above a murmur. If my hearing were worse than it already was, then I wouldn’t be able to hear this guy. His tone bugged me out, it was obviously a tone reserved for speaking to citizens who didn’t know better. A tone reserved for people who thought they would be able to hunt down these monsters without any skills. For citizens who kept running into danger willingly for an adrenaline rush or for attention. “Try not to attract more attention, I don’t need any more setbacks or trouble.”

I tried keeping a cool facade, but my incredulous expression gave me away. “Attract attention?” I repeated with a scoff and a roll of my eyes. “What, do you think I’m willingly standing in a collapsed hospital building for attention? ”

He raised a brow, “Right. You were situated on the tallest floor of the most expensive city where only the most affluent are tended to, and most of the hospitals were destroyed except for your room. Where then, may I add, the monster decided to lunge to and try attacking you despite it focusing its attacks mostly on us?”

This accusation made my blood boil, what a nincompoop! What did he think I used my very nonexistent powers to telepathically command the spider to start attacking me? Perhaps he believed I sent an invite personally telling the spider to come destroy everything around my room and then me? What a twat, a stupid twat-y alien.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I drawled out the o for extra emphasis and pettiness, “Next time I’ll make sure to choose a less conspicuous hospital. If the height of it bothers you soooo much, then I’ll make sure to book an underground hospital next time I get into an accident. Will you be happy then?” I shot back, unable to suppress my sarcasm. I mean, what a douchebag!

Suddenly the ground under us split in half, in one quick motion the alien took my waist once more, his grip tightening as we dodged an endless wave of debris heading our way. His eyes narrowed, “This isn’t a joke, people could die.” He snapped, what ants were up his pants, like jeez.

“What you think I don’t know that? I just watch my nurse go through the five stages of grief while my hospital room got all but demolished!” I basically screeched, my voice mirroring the incredulity of the situation. Then, he decided to ignore this entire conversation by talking to his ear piece once more.

I couldn’t hear who was on the other line, but it seemed that they revealed something detrimental because all a sudden, this guy gripped my waist as if there were no tomorrow, tensing up and jerking us to the side. “Hold on,” he commanded, his mind locking in. “Try not to scream, I don’t need to be going deaf any time soon.”

“Try not to sc-” The words died in my throat as he jumped off a roof, except unlike every other time this building we were on hand what seemed to be twenty floors- and unlike before, we had nothing to jump onto.

I screamed.

I shrieked, I squalled-I did everything short of composing an opera on the spot.

My stomach felt like it had been yanked up into my throat, and my heart was somewhere near my spine.

We were, quite literally, nosediving to our doom.

I braced myself, expecting pain to slam into me like a truck. But much to my surprise-nothing happened. And much to my embarrassment, I had my eyes squeezed shut, my eyebrows scrunched up, and what was probably the most ridiculous, wide-mouthed, gaping expression ever.

The wind still howled past me, so we were definitely moving. Hesitantly, I cracked one eye open. Then both.

We weren’t dead.

In fact, we were standing on top of a hovering jet. A hovering jet . With a white alien inside, casually piloting it like this was the most normal thing in the world.

A voice cut through my racing thoughts.

"You are safe. However, your posture suggests you believe otherwise."

I turned to my apparent rescuer-dressed in green, perfectly calm, and definitely not the least bit concerned about the whole falling-from-the-sky situation.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me with an unreadable expression.

"Fear is a logical response to free-falling at terminal velocity," he continued. "However, in this case, it was unnecessary."

I took a breath, still trying to process everything. "Right. Of course. Totally unnecessary." My voice came out weaker than I would’ve liked.

Below us, the city was in chaos-people running in every direction, screams echoing between buildings, alarms blaring. I barely had time to take it all in before the guy- who had just caught me mid-air, by the way -set me down next to an apartment building that seemed relatively stable.

Before I could say anything, he turned as if to leave.

"This structure has a 96.4% probability of remaining intact." He gave a small nod. "I advise you to seek shelter inside. You will likely survive."

And just like that, he was gone. No are you okay? , no stay here , not even a you're welcome . Just-gone.

I stood there for a moment, still a little winded, before muttering, "Well. That was...informative."

But there was no time to sit around questioning the mysterious ninja-robot guy. I had bigger concerns.

Like not dying.

I took one last glance at the sky-half-expecting him to still be there-then hurried inside the building.

reblog divider by @/cafekitsune

note: im not @ the creator of the banners anymore since I'd be tagging them in an obscene amount of chapters, so it'll be hidden with a tag!

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ominouslywritinginmyhead · 3 months ago

Text

Pairing: Makoto Tachibana x F!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Friends, Mutual Pining (of a sort)

Notes and Warnings: F!reader, slight canon divergence, Reader is 1 grade older than Makoto & has known him and Haru since childhood, set shortly after S1, reader is implied to experience bullying and social ostracism at school, Rin and Nagisa are unfairly scapegoated in this and I am SO sorry about that, my sincerest apologies to Rin and Nagisa fans for the in-universe slander bc I genuinely like them both as characters

Recommended listening: PLEDGE (the GazettE)

He finds you on the roof. Again.

You don’t even look up from your book as the door creaks open and you hear his footsteps approaching. The days are getting colder, and it’ll soon be time for university entrance exams. You might as well use the extra time to read.

“Senpai, did you eat lunch?” Makoto asks. Always the caring figure, even though you’re older than him. It stopped bugging you around four years ago.

In response, you show him an empty bento with one hand, the other still holding your book. Your mom will kill you if you don’t maintain a balanced diet during this crucial time period - you’ve grown up hearing horror stories from around the world about students collapsing during exams, being hospitalised on test days, and more. You need to eat well and sleep well if you want to do well this winter.

It’s your only hope of getting out.

“What are you reading?” is the next question you hear from Makoto as you put your bento away. He leans down and stares at the book cover hiding your face. “The Hunger Games…senpai, you’re reading this in English?” He almost yelps. “Isn’t it hard?”

“Not if you consider it the best book of all time.” You grin while dusting crumbs off your school skirt. “It’s not one of those two-hundred-year-old classics, so the vocabulary isn’t all that difficult. You should try it sometime.”

Makoto sits down beside you, legs crossed. “I’ll think about it,” he chuckles, because it’s a running joke between you two that English is your best subject while being his worst.

“Where’s Haru?” You ask.

“Helping Amakata-sensei with some classroom supplies,” Makoto tells you.

Truth be told, you knew that already; you saw Haru in the hallway just a few minutes ago. You just want to hear Makoto’s voice.

Ever since he and Haru restarted the swimming club, you’ve hardly gotten to spend any time with him. For six whole months it was always, “sorry, I’ve got club practice” or “sorry, we have a tournament coming up” or “sorry, my training camp starts tomorrow.”

A part of you hates that first-year - Nagisa - for coming up with all his hare-brained schemes, and another part of you hates Makoto for actually going along with them. The fact that he chose some Matsuoka kid over you still makes your blood boil. You knew him for, what, a year? You wanted to scream. You’ve known me your whole damn life!

It was always supposed to be the three of you - you, Makoto, and Haru. Walking home from school together. Going into the city together. Hanging out at each other’s houses. Even if Makoto and Haru were best friends, they never made you feel like an outsider. It didn’t matter that you were one grade ahead, or that your own classmates stifled their laughter every time you spoke, words stumbling over each other, or every time you wrote on the board with a shaking hand. Your real friends never judged you.

And when they joined you in high school, a part of you hoped…especially since April, when you and Makoto spent almost the entire first week together when Haru ditched…

Well, there’s no time to think about it now. You have books to finish and entrance exams to study for when you get home. Dwelling on how lonely you’ve been this year won’t change the past.

You’ll have time to make friends and date boys in Tokyo.

“Done with the swimming season?” You ask casually, hoping the word swimming doesn’t drown in the hatred you’ve had for it since the spring.

“Pretty much,” Makoto says, leaning against the railings that line the roof. “We have meetings every so often, and a few joint practices with Rin and the others at Samezuka, but the tournaments are over, so I’ve got a lot more time on my hands.”

There it is again. Rin. Samezuka.

You’ve haven’t seen Rin since he was in elementary school, but you hate him. If he hadn’t come back from Australia, you wouldn’t have lost the only friends you have left in the whole world.

You close your book. “I should go,” you say flatly. “I have a meeting with my homeroom teacher later.”

The meeting is in half an hour, but Makoto doesn’t need to know that.

Turning, you grab your bento and are about to stand up, when Makoto calls out, “Wait!”

It’s the plea in his voice that makes you pause.

And for the first time in weeks, if not months, you finally get a proper look at Makoto Tachibana.

He was always tall and well-built, but there’s something about him that’s different now. His shoulders seem broader, and there’s a firmness to his jaw that you’re certain wasn’t there six months ago. His green eyes bore into you with a determination you’ve definitely never seen before.

There’s one more thing that hits you only now.

When Makoto was little, he always made himself smaller, retreating into his shell the way you do now. He seemed uncomfortable with the amount of space he took up, even as a kid, hunching his shoulders and looking anywhere but ahead. But now he sits straight-backed, looking much more relaxed in his body than he has in years. It’s as if there’s a completely new Makoto Tachibana sitting beside you, gazing at you with concern. Is this because he’s gotten back into swimming? “Is…is something wrong?” You ask hesitantly.

“Senpai, I…” Makoto bites his lip. “I’m sorry I haven’t hung out with you much this year. The swimming club took up a lot of my time, what with me being Captain and having all those training camps and tournaments.”

You blink. This wasn’t what you were expecting. But Makoto Tachibana has never liked conforming to people’s expectations. You’ve seen him almost your entire life - you know this better than anyone else. Except maybe Haru.

Makoto isn’t done. “I saw you during the lunch breaks, heading to the roof like today. I wish…I wish I’d called you over. Maybe you could’ve been part of the club.”

“Like…like a manager or some, uh, something?” You manage. Oh, come on!

You hate it when your voice shakes like this around Makoto. He’s your closest friend, why are you panicking around him? You didn’t even blush seven months ago when you realised you liked him!

“Maybe,” he muses. “Or you could’ve been a swimmer too and we could’ve started a girl’s team.”

“I’m not much of a swimmer,” you admit. “Haven’t been since we were at the pool together. And nobody would join the club if I was there.”

“That’s not true!” Makoto says hotly.

You smile bitterly. “You know what they say about me. How much they laugh at me. I can’t be in any club while I’m in Iwatobi. I have no chances left. Why do you think I’m going to Tokyo?”

He looks away, but the expression on his face isn’t one of fear and shyness, the way it used to be eight, nine years ago, when you were all swimmers at the ITSC.

No, that’s an expression of shame.

“I should’ve said something,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I know you better than anyone else here, senpai. We could’ve done something. You would’ve loved the swimming club, I’m sure of it.”

“The damage was done before you even started high school,” you tell him. “I’ll always be the unpopular, weird girl who sits alone all the time and can’t make friends. At least Tokyo’s big enough that I’ll get more than one chance to try again.”

Makoto looks up at you, shame still lingering in his eyes. “Senpai, I’m sorry. You’re still one of my closest friends, and I wish I could make things right. I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long, e-especially since…”

He blushes and looks away, and your heart skips a beat. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

You smile. None of it matters. Not anymore. Just knowing how much he cares is all you need. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “You being here is enough to make things right.”

When Makoto turns back to face you and the shame in his gleaming green eyes is replaced by hope, you know it’s going to be okay. “Are you sure?” He asks, voice as soft as yours.

“I am.”

Finally, he smiles back, cheeks still bright pink. “I was thinking about going to Tottori and seeing a movie next weekend. Would you like to come along? We haven’t watched a movie together in ages.”

“That sounds nice. I’d love to! What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure yet…unless there’s something in particular you’d like to check out?”

“Well…” you think about it for a moment. “There’s this really cool horror movie I’ve been hearing about…”

All the blood drains from Makoto’s face, and you burst out laughing. “Just kidding. I’d never do that to you. Well, not on purpose anyway. Hang on, let’s check what’s playing next week.”

You whip out your phone, not even noticing Makoto leaning in for a closer look. His light brown hair tickles your cheek, his arm brushing against yours. You don’t notice him looking at you instead of at your phone as you read out all the movies being screened at the theaters this month. You don’t see his eyes soften as he watches you, his smile widen as he listens to the excited tone of your voice. You don’t realise that your free hand is just micrometers away from his.

You’re just happy to have your friend back.

****

The weekend you spend with Makoto is as fun as any other day you’ve spent with him all these years, even if nothing comes from it. He’s still got club activities and his own future to think about, and you’ll be studying for entrance exams anyway.

You leave for Tokyo in the spring with no regrets, the burden of your girlhood lifted from your shoulders as you prepare for a fresh start in a new world. You stay in touch with your old friends and make new ones, but somehow, dating never really makes it into your plans.

Makoto continues on his own path, reflecting on the experiences he’s had as a swimmer and what his friends and family look to him for. He has his dreams, and he wants to devote himself to those dreams wholeheartedly.

But on his own graduation day one year later, he removes the first button of his school blazer and wraps it in soft felt paper, slipping it into his wallet.

He’ll give it to you when he sees you again.

Part 2 can be found here :)

#makoto x reader #makoto tachibana x reader #makoto tachibana fluff #free! x reader #makoto #makoto tachibana #saber writes #Spotify

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moonspirit · 10 months ago

Note

when you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy! then, send to your last ten people in your notifs (anonymously). you never know who might benefit from spreading positivity.

Hello anon! Thank you for sending this in :3

Hmmm, five things....

Okay so lately I've begun journaling again. It's a habit I've stuck with since 2019, so I have a big journal full of memories and feelings for each year since then haha xD Last year though, due to various reasons I fell off from journaling, and while I wanted to restart it at the beginning of 2024, that didn't happen (once you break a consistent habit, sometimes it's hard to return). But after winning a long-drawn battle about how "wrong" it is to start a journal from September 2024 (perfectionism ey?), I've finally opened a new book and it feels really good to dump my head on paper again :3

(some funny stuff I wrote in my 2021 journal above! using eren as a motivational figure was so lame lmaooooo 🥲)

2. Dry ginger tea! So this is a tea commonly drunk during colder months like monsoon and winter but I somehow... chug it ... at all times of the year. Though being more of a coffee person than tea, I do like dry ginger tea for how spicy it is. Very good for when you have colds and sore-throats but if you're easily obsessed like me, then also very good to burn your throat with for no fucking reason at all xD

3. The sky at night has been really beautiful lately. Lots of little stars (I don't get to see all much living in a suburb and the city pollution is strong) and some planets that visit. My phone's gone whack so I can't use my constellation mapping app for now (*sigh*) but it's still nice just lying flat on the roof and watching the pinpricks of light traveling from millions of years ago. Something about that really puts things into perspective.

4. I've been walking to work lately! 30-40 minutes! It feels very good to sweat it out in the morning considering I've been quite inactive for a while. Back to exerciseeeeee yeeeeeeee

5. I'm very excited for an event that may take place in December! Thinking about it makes me happy :3

Thank you so much for asking anon! I hope you have a good timezone ~

#askies #misc.#ask game

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hel-phoenyx · 6 months ago

Text

New Year's Eve, part 22

Still the same as ever. The other parts of the story can be found on @corneille-but-not-the-author and @soupedepates's blog, one day I promise I'll do a masterpost (if we ever finish it lmao)

A few days later.

I'm supposed to get out today. Doctor Claro told me.

He also force-prescribed me at least a month of sick leave. Paid. Because apparently "having a metal pipe thrust in your arm enough to endanger nerves and destroy muscles" is not a good situation for a cop to work.

If you say so, doctor. I don't even have the strenght to retort.

I saw Tyr, those few days ago. When the pipe went out of my arm and I was linked to a blood sack and everything in IVs I could need. He was talking with Domhildr behond the door before coming in my room.

Alone.

"Ha.... This time you're the first one."

He told me he warned the others. Some of them did came, during those few days. I saw Brynja, Thorfinn, Gustav. The others... Did they not have the time, with Aarni's job at the library and Hector's clients, or did they just not want to, like Kriss ?

I don't know anymore.

I am tired.

Probably the blood loss.

I'll put on the blood loss the amount of energy needed to be angry, that I didn't have anymore. I'll put on the blood loss the breakdown I had in front of Tyr.

"Are you sure this is a job for you ?"

....

I don't know anymore.

Well, it never was, in a way. I took it because I could do it, because it was well-paid, and because it gave me an opportunity to try and do something. More than being the good cop, destroy the system from the inside.

But what can a man do against a complete militia ?

Not even protect the innocents.

Now I'm walking in a hospital while a comrade sent me there because, for them, I was probably the same as any other cop. Truth be told, I don't even know if I am, or not.

"You know, you should probably change career paths. This one was destroying you from the very beginning."

...

"... And what am I supposed to do, Tyr ?! I don't even have the bac, for fuck's sake, I am deemed too stupid to pursue higher education ! And all the jobs that pay well enough to support my family are locked behind it !"

The tears. The pain. The monitors linked to me beeping furiously.

"Because of course it's easier for you, you are a genius, a prodigy, the golden child of a rich family ! When you dropped out of politics, you could restart in history and marine biology at the same time, because it is that easy for you ! You are a doctorate candidate, with a red carpet to a post of researcher and teaching paid ruby-on-nail, you already do conferences, scientific papers, everything a "respectable man" can do !"

Everything white around me. white, white, so I see red more clearly.

"This is the only thing I can do that makes me thing I am worth something, that I am useful ! What am I supposed to do if I'm not.... This ? What am I if i'm not this ?!"

Tyr's horrified expression.

He didn't try to comfort me. He didn't try to touch me. He didn't even move.

He just looked at me with those eyes.

I saw a droplet of blood on his lips when he finally spoke up.

"You know, for someone so intent on being special, you could probably start by being yourself."

...

Moralizing, lesson-giving dumb fuck.

I am finally reaching my goal. Sigismund's room. doctor Claro said he wanted to keep him in observation for a few more days, because of the head wound, to check if the concussion won't have after effects or something. I don't know, I am no doctor.

A knock. A tired voice tells me to come in.

He's alone. Sitting on his bed, with a book in hands. Several old packs of strawberries, empty, are sitting on his nightstand, and a flower bouquet is blooming next to the window. Someone has got eoverzalous visitors. Lucky bitch.

He looks surprised to see me. Really now ? We were just in the same life or death situation.

"... Hey."

"Fenrir. Wasn't exactly... Expecting you."

I sneer a little.

"Got a lot of visits, eh, lucky bastard ?"

"well, yeah. My parents. Colleagues. And, well, Domhildr, too. She came with her brother, once."

His parents, huh ? So, even if Sarovar Warsowar prefers protecting his person rather than the city, he still comes to the hospital to see his injured son, does he ?

That's more than my parents could ever say.

"Eh. Good for you. Is there leftover strawberries ? I'm starving."

He doesn't answer. Rather, he looks at me with... A weird expression.

"... Domhildr told me you were the one to warn her."

Oh. Yeah. That.

"I thought someone had to. Because the Warsowar wouldn't have given two shits about her, am I right ?"

His face hardens. So I am right.

How do you feel when your parents don't even approve of your girlfriend ?

There is a reason Tyr cut his off.

"... I thought you hated her."

"Oh yeah, I still do. Unsuferrable bitch with too much of a taste for theatrical antics, that one. And she still spread rumors about me."

Even if she tried to "make this right".

Sigismund frowns, but I wasn't finished.

There's a memory coming back, now that he's lying on that hospital bed.

"I just think no one deserved to not be warned when a loved one's life is in danger."

Because when it's too late

It's too late.

Any meaning you wanna give to this.

Sigismund blinks. Tilts his head.

"... That sounded personal."

"Leeeet's say it's not the first time I've seen this hospital. Like you, I suppose. How's the head ?"

Probably understanding he won't have any other answers, he shrugs.

"Better. I think I will be able to go out in a few days, but I have a month of sick leave. Another one. Doctor wouldn't listen to me when i told him I just got back to work."

"Got doctor Claro on your back too, huh ? My arm earned me the same treatment."

Ironically, he only notices the bandaged arm, immobilized against my chest, when I mention it.

"... You got hurt too ?"

"Metal pipe, made pointy at the end gods know how. Almost fractured the bone, ruptured some muscles and damaged some nerves."

I fail to mention that my arm was in the way of his chest.

He looks horrified enough.

"Oh, dear...."

"Yeaaaah. The protest took a turn for the worse after you got knocked out. Colleagues started to get more violent, the bloc retaliated, we got a few exploded cars enough to damage property, hence the metal pipe. Don't know what happened after that but we probably got mass arrestations, even among the peaceful ones. I'm almost happy to have that month of sick leave so I won't deal with that. I'm tired as fuck."

".... I told you we had to intervene."

"Still think the escalation was BECAUSE you tried to interfere, pretty boy."

That earns me a raise of eyebrows. What now ?

"... could you drop the nickname please ? Also, why a nickname, now ?"

"Oh, don't start nitpicking, I'm too tired for this shit."

I see on his face he wants to answer, but he doesn't have time. The door opens in a blow, and behind it the well-known petite silhouette holding a few bags of season berries. How does she get enough money to pay for all of this is a mystery.

"Sigi ! I'm here for your daily girlfriend visit- oh."

She just noticed me, and her smile just dropped a few inches. Yeah, yeah, I know, not happy to see me, I know the drill. I'm not, either, but there is someone Sigismund wants more in that goddamn room, and it is not me.

".... Hello, Fenrir."

"Drop the act," I snarl. "I know you're only being polite for the sake of our little patient over there. i'm not disturbing any longer, anyway. Was about to leave."

She pouts, but at least ignores me and go put the berries on the nightstand, leaving me enough space to go towards the door. Which I do.

I turn towards Sigismund when the doorknob is in my hand.

"Oh, by the way, Walpurgis told me a few days ago that I got enough leads for him to reopen the whole sect file. You'll probably be teaming up with me for this shit when we're back in business, so... Enjoy your leave."

My smile gets grimmer when I pass the door.

"Say hello to Tyr for me, Domhildr, will you ?"

#lysara #lysara ibruael #hel ocs #hel stories #hel writing #lysara modern au #not my ocs #some calmer chara dev today :DDD

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illarian-rambling · 11 months ago

Note

⚫️ for the OC ask game, for any character you’d like? Preferably one whose answer is a little morally ambiguous if you have any :)

⚫️ Black- When was a moment in your OC's life that they felt the most in control and secure? Was it gained through negative or positive means?

Morally ambiguous, huh? Well, I guess I get the chance to talk about that time Twenari almost became the BBEG of Honor's Outcasts >:)

(This will have spoilers, but I'll keep it vague)

So, at the end of book one, the quartet was in the Araunian desert reeling from an assassination attempt gone wrong. Izjik had just called on the power of End to kill their target and directly afterwards, she and Twenari had the clever idea of using Twenari’s magic to create body doubles of them in order to fake their own deaths and avoid the heat from the assassination. Pretty smart, except for the fact that by the time they left these perfect copies of their dead bodies there, Sepo and Djek had gotten worried and snuck back in to see if the ladies needed back up. I think you can see where this is going...

Suffice to say, Sepo took the sight of Izjik and Twenari dead on the ground very poorly and let his divine voice off its leash in one massive scream. This set quite the fire, but also nearly killed him because sirens really aren't supposed to channel the Voice without words to shape it. Djek dragged him out of the inferno and it was now that Izjik and Twenari returned after seeing the blaze in the distance. Everyone was very happy to see that they were all alive... except they weren't. By this time, Sepo had drowned on his own blood, and his heart had stopped.

Izjik went all but catatonic at this point. Djek directed Twenari to use her telekinesis to restart Sepo’s heart like a more exact form of CPR, but she just didn't have enough magical energy left.

However, there's this thing about the Araunian desert. People say it's 'poisonous', but in truth, it's home to a massive pool of rotting magic. More magical waste than ten thousand mages could produce in a lifetime. Enough to burn the world and everyone on it to cinders if properly channeled. Enough to make a new god or tear down an old one.

With no other option and despite the fact that the resulting sorcerer’s poison could easily kill her too, Twenari drew on this power and willed Sepo back to life. It was so easy. She wielded the power of a god, and when it came time to let it to, she couldn't.

For context, Twenari had escaped her mother’s clutches mere months ago. She was still being actively hunted by the woman. With that power in her hands, Twenari realized she could make it so no such injustices ever happened to people like her and her friends ever again. She realized that she could make it so people like Undeta were never born, she could make it so tyrants like the Silver Sovereign would never rise to power. She could make the world a utopia in the palm of her hand. She just needed to prune away the bad stuff first.

It was only when the pool of runoff magic started talking to her that Twenari realized what a slippery slope she was on. That if she instated herself as the mage-goddess of the world, then she'd be no better than Undeta, treating people like pawns and deciding who could live or die on a whim. She gave up the magic of Araun quickly before she could go back on her decision and passed out before she could reach out again.

Twenari doesn't really like to talk about this experience with her friends. She thinks being so tempted by it makes her like her mother deep down. And even if it frightens her, that moment will always be the only one where she felt truly in control of her life and destiny.

I think there's another universe out there where she didn't let go and Illaros is ruled by an immortal, omnipotent sorcerer-goddess who can see into everyone's mind, ready to strike them down for any evil thought, while the soul of whatever the Araunian runoff pool really is whispers in her ear. But it's not this universe, thankfully.

Thanks for the ask! This was a fun one - I always like talking about how Twenari balances massive amounts of power with morality :)

#i also didn't realize before but Vermir's main goal is almost exactly what Twenari gave up #how silly is that?#writing ask game #writblr #my ocs #writing #writerscommunity

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littleragondin · 1 year ago

Text

9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better:

I have been tagged by @my-rose-tinted-glasses and @troubled-mind, thank you both! (っ˘ω˘ς )

3 Ships You Like: Currently, I am still basking in the warmth and kindness of Kasuga and Nomoto from She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat (probably going to be stuck there for a while ngl).

I am also still quietly invested in Zorro x Luffy from the One Piece Live Action, in a way I haven’t been since I read the first two dozens volumes of One Piece about… twenty years ago …

And I have restarted Khun Chai so the itch is back for Tian and Jiu.

First Ship Ever:

Not sure about first ship ever, but I saw something about Peach Girl the other day, and I was reminded of how hard it was for me to decide if I wanted her to end with Toji or Okayasu lol (this and Evangelion were my first manga ever)

Otherwise in the first ones, there is GaaLee from Naruto I guess. I think that’s the first story where I really started shipping/writing and reading fics/and swapping the characters around.

Last Song You Heard:

youtube

It's a Fry and Laurie kinda evening. Gosh, I still know the lyrics by heart...

Favorite Childhood Book:

I used to read so much (where has all that reading time gone etc…) so it changed often. But I was a huuuuge fan of Artemis Fowl (he was a genius! And a villain! And he loved his mom!! and Holy was so badass!).

There was also a french SF series for kids, Kerri et Megane, that I loved SO much (they were ‘orphans’ who in the first volume hide in a spaceship to try to find Kerri’s parents), and it had gorgeous illustrations and I was obsessed.

Currently Reading:

I am in a terrible reading slump I’m afraid. I need to finish Love in the Big City (part 3 kinda broke my heart so I’m having trouble getting back on the saddle), as well as Flux by Jinwoo Chong, and I have started Textual Poachers by Henry Jenkins. So instead of reading any of that, I restarted Escalier C by Elvire Murail – that I have read a dozen times already but what can you do.

Currently watching:

Same thing, I guess. Things are going slow here too. Week to week I am keeping up with Sukiyanen kedo do yaro ka and 23.5 degrees (yes yes there is only one episode out but it still counts). I am also slooooowly catching back up on Ossan’s Love Returns, Kamen Rider Revice, and Pale Moon, as well as working my way through Leverage (I’m halfway through season 4). And I am binging Khun Chai again right now, for comfort.

Currently consuming:

I just finished a cassoulet (sponsored by my brother who seems to always worry that I will forget the taste of French food and sent me home with cans of food this year) and am eating a yogurt to top it off.

Currently craving:

Some sushis (unattainable) and some mango ice cream (more attainable once I go grocery shopping I guess).

If you feel so inclined (but of course no pressure) I will tag @benkaaoi @sparklyeyedhimbo @petrichoraline @gillianthecat @bengiyo @isaksbestpillow and also @scienceoftheidiot and @coquelicoq .｡.:*☆

#tag games #start of the year has been so busy with work #(which sucks)#and on top of that I keep getting sick #(also sucks)#so my media enjoyment has been put on the backburner I'm afraid #(it mega sucks)#but that's where we stand as of today lol #Youtube

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thebookplatypus · 10 months ago

Text

👨‍🍳 Review👨‍🍳

Ambrose Casablanca. The crush Calla Litvin has must be kept as just that.

A crush.

Because Ambrose is Calla,s BFFs older brother and off limits.

This is a -

👨‍🍳Angsty

👨‍🍳Best Friends Brother

👨‍🍳Second Chance

👨‍🍳Touch her and Dìe

👨‍🍳Both secretly obsessed

👨‍🍳Sarcasm and Banter 🔥🔥

👨‍🍳 He’s a chef/She’s waiting to host a murder podcast

👨‍🍳Grumpy vs Sunsgine/Opposites Attract

👨‍🍳Secret virtual Pen Pals

“She was a little ball of sunshine, and I was a big, gray cloud that wanted to piss acid rain on her parade.”

All the feels in this book!!

Cal and Row both have loved eachother from afar. Calla just can’t stand to be around men. All but one. Which is Row. But she’s terrified of commitment and after losing her BFF for five years over a one time hookup with Row in the past, Cal is desperate to have her bestie back in her life which means Row is off limits.

That hookup five years ago? It meant something to Ambrose. So when Cal said it was her biggest regret, it crushed him and he was never the same. Now she’s back in town five years later and he can’t get far enough away from the girl who broke his heart.

“I’d always felt this kinship between us. Like our souls were a two-part friendship necklace. Now I knew why. Because we’d both tasted darkness. Looked evil in the eye and survived.”

Both have gone through devastating trauma that no one else knew about and when they unknowingly start talking on an online form together, they restart a friendship.

And while I laughed over all the sarcasm and banter, it’s definitely an emotional ride.

It’s a slow burn and a second chance. It’s also quite spicy. 69ing in a hospital bed?! 🔥🥵🔥🥵🔥🥵👌🏻

“I knew you’d be my favorite dessert before I even had my first taste.” 👅

I loved these two SOO freaking much. Calla is a gem. She’s pure hearted and the sweetest character ever. I wasn’t fond of her bestie which I think it getting get her own book. I thought she was a shit person but maybe I’ll change my mind. Lol. 5/5⭐️ #ljshen #trulymadlydeeply #secondchanceromance #ku #kindleunlimited #thebookplatypusreview

Truly Madly Deeply: A Grumpy x Sunshine Romance (Forbidden Love Book 1) https://a.co/d/0aZym7j

#authors #bibliophile #book blog #book review #bookish #booklr #books #bookworm #currently reading #books & libraries

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lincolndjarin · 2 years ago

Text

THE RO R.E.P.O.R.T

week one :

happy sunday all!!

so i've been feeling a little better and i saw this on tik tok and i think i'm gonna start doing this on sundays, even if it's annoying lmao it's nice to feel better (i started taking my meds again) also this was like,,, really fun so if you like it do it and tag me cause i wanna see !! <3

Reading:

Tragically nothing right now.

between writing and home renovation i've had absolutely no time to myself but i've got five days off for thanksgiving and i definitely will be getting to some books soon!! here's a photo of me painting my room w my mom

Eating:

the gas station in town has those blue cookie tins and i'm obsessed, took them to the movies with me

Playing:

i've been catching up on hey riddle riddle while working around the house!!

Obsessing:

Bob's Burgers !!

i'm always watching bob's burgers, it's my comfort show like i literally just loop it, when i finish it i just restart. (having autism makes me super normal about things) specifically this week i rewatched the blade runner episode where tina buys herself a new shirt and the girls at school make fun of her for it and like every other time i've watched it i cried like a baby

Recommending:

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes !!

i saw this yesterday, i've loved the hunger games since i was a wee tween and i didn't go to the movies a lot growing up which is why i go so much now. so i never got to see a hunger games movie in theatres until now and i fucking loved it, i know opinions are all over the place but i adored it and highly recommend it!!

Treating:

even though i haven't had time to read i did recently buy a new kindle!! (i could not resist the green back kindles) my old one was a hand me down from my mom that she got ten years ago and took a very long time to turn the page lmao

anyways, that's all from me this week, i did manage to get a chapter out and paint my room so i'm pretty excited about that!! i'm hoping to spend this upcoming weekend writing an oh honey update and working through some stuff for bks week!!

luv y'all, hope everyone has a great week!!

#ro rambles #the ro report #personal

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nerdfins · 1 year ago

Text

A Collection of Transformers AU Synopses

I want to be more bold about posting my own work. One of my favorite hobbies besides drawing is also writing my own fan fiction. You've all seen my art of established characters. Now here's my writing. My stories follow my OC Ricochet, a Triple Changer who becomes a Sparkeater. How and why changes depending on the AU.

--------------------

Transformers: Epica

A mix of different elements from G1, IDW, and Prime. It is my longest-written AU and restarted my love of fanfic writing after a decade of nothing.

Follows the story of Ricochet and her origin as a miner from Tarn. Raised by Megatronus and his Conjunx after her spark was found by him, Ricochet is one of the early loyal followers of the Decepticons. Needing a break from life, Ricochet takes a vacation to Iacon. There she comes to the rescue of a pair of Velocitronians who were jumped by a gang when they got lost in the city. Ricochet's life takes a new turn.

Snippet:

“I didn’t think I’d see you guys again after that encounter,” Ricochet said as they walked down the steps.

“We owed you it,” Breakdown said. “Thank you. Sorry you took a beating on behalf of us and our poor sense of direction.”

Ricochet smiled, her one optic feeling very sore from the bruising underneath. “Don’t worry about it. I’m a brawler at spark. You should see how the other ones looked when the cops arrived.”

“Lucky for you, I have medical training,” Knockout said, putting a servo to her face to get a good look. “Come with me and I’ll take care of that plus whatever dents and dings you received being our hero.”

Ricochet laughed. “Good luck finding those. Most of these are from just life.”

“Then I’ll take care of them, too.”

“What about the paint shop?” Breakdown asked.

“We’re here for a while, so no rush. So, we know your name is Ricochet. I’m Knockout, and this is my Conjunx Breakdown.” Breakdown gave a small wave.

“Nice to meet you both, despite the circumstances,” Ricochet replied. “So, where are we going?”

--------------------

Transformers: Bondings

This idea came to me in a dream. What if Cybertronians had a soulmate type of thing? Where they would feel the desire to sparkbond with another, not always one of their choosing?

Prime AU where humanity is aware of the Cybertronians existing.

Starts in 1989.

Ricochet is hiding on Earth in a human holoform, keeping away from other Cybertronians due to her status as a Sparkeater. Her life of peace is interrupted when the War comes to Earth, and it gets even worse when she has a run-in with the Second in Command of the Decepticons...and feels the tug of a bond.

Snippet:

The tug. He felt it. He felt it in his spark. It almost stopped Starscream mid-flight as he recognized that feeling he had many moons ago when he first met his late Trinemates.

'Here?' He thought in confusion as they landed at the power station. Starscream ordered the Vehicons to begin pulling the fuel out of the station and then glanced around. It was a smaller human settlement and late at night, so few humans or vehicles were present. Those who were ran for cover when they arrived. He observed the various parked cars and trucks, wondering if any of them were Cybertronians. If so, they were most likely Autobots. Starscream had half a mind to shoot them all to find out, and it would get rid of the problem if he managed to kill the one he was feeling a bond towards. No Autobot, no bond, no problem. There was no desire in his spark for another bond again after…

Shaking his head from that memory, he turned back towards the Vehicons as they worked.

--------------------

Transformers: Exodus

A Prime AU that follows the events of the book of the same name.

Starscream, keeping post on Trypticon Station and studying the Dark Energon within, must contend with a surprise inspection from one of Megatron's most loyal soldiers: Ricochet.

Snippet:

As he approached the docking bay, Starscream heard voices. Some he recognized as his own Seeker command and a new one. His Seekers sounded nervous. The new voice was unrecognizable at first, but when he got closer he realized who it was that Megatron sent.

Ricochet.

He growled. “Of course he sent her,” he thought. Ricochet; Megatron’s most loyal gladiator. He supposed it could have been worse; Soundwave or Shockwave could have been dispatched. Yet it did not bring him much comfort. The three of them were all creepy in their own ways. Soundwave with his horde of minions lurking in every corner and a visor covering his face. Shockwave with his lack of a face and penchant for questionable experiments. And Ricochet, whose brutality in the arena is only matched by Megatron himself and wore a battle mask covering the lower half of her face.

There was more to Ricochet that Starscream and many others did not care for. There was something…off about her. Starscream could not put a finger on it, but something about Ricochet’s aura was unsettling. Like some primal circuit in the brain module wanted to activate the Fight or Flight response when she looked at you. Ricochet turned to him as he entered, and he felt that little nudge and a shiver up his spinal strut. If he could see past the battle mask, he was sure she would be smirking at him.

“Starscream,” Ricochet said with a nod. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” he agreed. In the back of his head, he thought about how that wasn’t such a bad thing.

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#transformers #transformers au #fan fiction #my writing #transformers epica #transformers bondings #transformers exodus #ricochet #transformers oc #knockout #breakdown #starscream #snippet

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coffyao · 3 months ago

Text

Leave your inhibitions in the office

forgot to post this one on tumblr -- but here it is!

summary:

This is the sequel to drink away your inhibitions.

Two weeks have flew past already, neither has seungbae or yoonbum acknowledged their night together but yoonbum has grown extremely impatient and decides to do something about it.

Yoonbum reaches the literature section, putting the stack of books onto the floor as he sits down briefly and starts to ruminate.

They kissed..they had sex how he wanted it and he was even able to confess the entirety of his feelings to him. But even as Yoonbum gave up his body for him, Seungbae couldn’t give him an answer, even when he bared his truth for him.

It’s not like seungbae had completely iced him out, but he didn’t seem as responsive anymore. He says he’s too busy to eat lunch together anymore. He barely visits him anymore.

It made Yoonbum want to scratch his skin until it bled again, but he knew better than to resort to self-destructive habits once more. He thought about all the reasons why seungbae would suddenly go all cold.

Was it because I had too many expectations? Was it because I was too intense? Was it because it was just meant to be a hook-up and nothing more? Was it because Seungbae became disgusted when he saw my body for the first time? Was it because my pleading turned him off? Was it because I was too much? Was it because Im too hard to love after all? What if i'm unlovable?

Yoonbum bites his fingernail and starts to sort the books out in alphabetical order. “A…B….C..” he mumbles. Once he manages to finish, he walks back to his chair and sits down, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

Was I wrong?

After a couple hours had past, time seemingly so much quicker now, he shuts the glass doors behind him and briefly waves goodbye to his manager as they enter into their car. He pulls out his phone from his woolly cardigan pocket and swipes on it to check his notifications.

Nothing.

He switches his phone on and off again, hoping that maybe somehow there was a message that was hiding behind all of the notifications of the many games he had downloaded on it.

Still nothing.

He restarts the phone.

Nothing.

He makes the screen brighter.

Nothing again.

He refreshes his messages.

Nothing?

The last message that he had received from seungbae was about five days ago and it moreso just his usual, “Is everything ok?” message but it had felt painfully equivalent to the beginning of their relationship: pity and obligation. He stopped following it up with, “Are you free? Lets meet up.” or daily grievances about how vexing he finds his co-workers. The little things.

Yoonbum would always reply with, “I’m okay, thank you.” So matter-of-factly to convince himself that nothing had actually changed, but a part of himself felt like he was actually being thrown away… and he also suspected Seungbae didn’t want to make it too obvious because he feels bad. Because he’s a good guy.

I hope he feels terrible.

Yoonbum stuffs the phone into his pocket and pulls his cardigan closer.

Once Yoonbum reaches his one bedroom apartment, he sits back on his sofa and immediately jumps up from it. Since he wasn’t at home all day, he’d almost forgotten that his apartment was always bitterly frigid, including the furniture. He hadn’t been in the best of moods for a while now, but this small inconvenience had annoyed him so much that he had almost had the urge to go shatter all of his kitchen plates like a maniac.

He clenches his teeth and decides to go into his bedroom instead, filled with his favourite frog plushies, followed by the faint smell of the vanilla candle that he had set by his tabletop before he left for work.

He had always felt happy when he was in his room, but in the back of his mind it had always reminded him with a cruel finger that he was once again going to bed alone.

It was just meant to be a dim and fleeting pain that he would get over once he’d close his eyes, but now it stung more than usual.

He once again digs into his pockets and pulls out his phone, but with a little more intention this time. He had thought about this quite recently, but he was unsure on whether it would answer his question or it would push seungbae even further away.

…But he also figured he had nothing more to lose now.

He gulps and starts typing on his phone:

Your still working right?

He looks at the message and shakes his head. Too obvious. He deletes it and retypes:

Just a question but..you usually work overtime right? Like.. today for example?

He deletes it again.

After a couple of deleted messages and sighing, he holds his breath and sends the following message:

Working overtime at nights like this must be tiring.. like today right?

He drops the phone on his bed and rushes to the bathroom, dousing himself with multiple splashes of freezing water in order to ready himself for the response that is about to come. He walks back to his bedroom and picks up the phone. It wasn't read...but it didn’t matter. This was all the proof he needed.

He opens the wardrobe next to his right and flips through a few shirts and cardigans until he reaches a black puffer jacket and pulls it out of his hanger. Once settling in on his bed, he starts undressing himself until he was fully bare and then proceeds to put his jacket on, zipping it up and buttoning it so it was completely secured.

Nervously nibbling on his lip, he puts on his trainers and sits down on the bed until he hears the light drizzling of rain making it way to his bedroom window.

He looks through his phone and checks the weather forecast: Heavy rain. Most likely will rain throughout the night.

He makes his way to the door, running out from and into the thundering rain as he let himself be one with it.

Eventually reaching the police station, the first thing Yoonbum notices that it was hopelessly dark, no noticeable shred of light poking through the doors. However, it didn’t deter him at all.

He peeks through them, looking around, but there was still no sign of Seungbae. He tries to push them, but there was no luck, remaining completely stuck in place.

Yoonbum looks above him and spots a blue light reflecting through the window. He looks below the ground, scanning for any light object he could throw.

He picks up the thin wooden stick and tries to throw it against the window but with little success as it lands straight into the puddle.

Seriously..?

Yoonbum looks again and he picks up a small pebble. Using his wrist, he throws it, hoping that it would at least glaze part of the window, even for a millisecond. Even as Yoonbum put so much hope into that one rock, it drops straight back down, along with the miserable stick that he earnestly tried to throw a few seconds ago.

Yoonbum knew that he was weak, but he didn’t know that he was that weak.

Momentarily, it made Yoonbum think of all the times Seungbae invited him to go to the gym together, but he had always refused. Yoonbum never explained why, but if he had to give a decent reason.. it would probably be because of how intimidating it would be there.

That’s why he had sought out to exercise at home, but that was months ago, and he still hadn’t done it.

Idiot.

Yoonbum was thinking of shouting Seungbae’s name instead, but the thought of people watching a naked man covered in a coat screaming out loud was so mortifying he might as well of stripped right then and now.

“…Yoonbum?”

Looking up at the window, yoonbum notices a slightly dishevelled Seungbae, clearly overworked from how his glasses were tilted sideways, his tie was missing, and his white shirt was undone.

Seungbae scratches his head awkwardly, pupils moving anywhere and everywhere except for the person that was looking intently up at him.

“..Do you think we can talk Seungbae?”

Unlocking the door, Seungbae opens it, letting Yoonbum in and closes it right after. Seungbae clears his throat, “You...you said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

When Yoonbum looks around the room, he notices that it felt much more spacious compared to when he would come there during the day.

Most of the desks were cleared and pushed to the far corners of the room, except for a few chairs that were left hanging around on the bottom floor.

“Ah okay. Well let’s go upstairs then.” Seungbae said, pointing towards the staircase. Walking up the stairs, Yoonbum continues to stare at Seungbae, uncertainly. It seemed that although they were next to each other again, Seungbae felt far away…like his mind was somewhere else.

Reaching the second floor, Seungbae walks up to his desk, paperwork and sticky-notes scattered all over the surface and grabs his chair.

“Sit. I’ll stand.”

Yoonbum nods timidly, sitting down on the chair. Seungbae pushes the chair slightly so that it faced him, and he leans on the desk.

“Okay…what is it?”

“What..?” Yoonbum repeats.

“..What you wanted to talk about.”

Right. The talk.

Yoonbum rubs his thumbs together. He looks at Seungbae’s desk, scanning on what exactly he could at least say before he goes and risks embarrassing himself again.

“Um…your phone.”

“Phone?”

“Yes…were you not able to see my message yet?”

“..Ah.”

Seungbae takes his phone out of his shirt pocket and looks at it. He swipes it a few times, before squinting at it.

“Nights like this must be tiring..” Seungbae mumbles before looking up apologetically.

“… sorry my phone was on silent. But working overtime has its benefits like extra pay...but the downs always involve losing sleep for some reason..” he yawns, fixing his glasses.

“…Losing sleep must suck right?”

“Always does. But..I don’t mind that too much.”

“..I see. But I think I would definitely mind it.”

Seungbae looks up, giving Yoonbum a curious look,“...Why’s that?”

Isn’t it obvious?

Yoonbum shuffles in his seat and mutters, “Because then…I wouldn’t be able to reply to you quickly enough.”

“..Huh?”

Yoonbum sighs and stands up from his seat. He was tired of this.

“..Then I wouldn’t be able to reply to your messages quickly enough.”

“..Oh.”

Oh?

Yoonbum steps closer, “..Why do you think that is?”

So tired of him pretending.

Seungbae moves backwards, grasping tighter onto his desk as yoonbum continues to unzip his jacket until it reveals his bare chest.

So tired.

“..What are you doing.” Seungbae said, swallowing uncomfortably.

“..don’t you at least want to guess why.”

“Guess?”

Yoonbum looks up at Seungbae and smiles, “Yes..i’ll give you two guesses. Then I’ll tell you.”

“Ah…” As Seungbae looks down on Yoonbum’s chest, before quickly looking away again. Seungbae fiddles with his shirt, “..because you don’t want to be inconsiderate.”

“..Not quite.”

“…Then I don’t know.”

But you do.

“..Try again. You have one more guess, remember?”

Seungbae bites his lip, the glint in his eyes getting darker. Seungbae breathes out, clearly in distress, “..Your going to have to tell me. I’m not a mind reader.”

Yoonbum pulls his zip down further, revealing his waist, “But I’m not either. That’s why...I want to know what you think.”

“Right..” Seungbae breathes, scratching the desk with his fingernails.

“..So?”

“..Because your a kind person.”

I’m far from that.

“..Thats not true and you know it Seungbae.”

Yoonbum completely unzips his coat, revealing his naked figure.

I’m..

Yoonbum reaches for Seungbae’s neck, caressing it, “I’m selfish…so selfish. I just don’t how to…let things go.”

Seungbae shudders against Yoonbum’s cold fingers and shuts his eyes tightly. If only Seungbae knew just how selfish Yoonbum was. Yoonbum couldn’t just wait docilly, hoping that eventually, Seungbae would finally give him a reply.

It’s a shame im a bad person.

First, Yoonbums fingers travel to Seungbaes nape, then the tip of his ears, gauging his reaction and how many seconds were left until Seungbae ravages him.

Yoonbum sighs into Seungbae’s ear, “….I’m not considerate. I’m not kind. I’m just a filthy stalker..”

Yoonbum's coat drops onto the floor, his body hot to the touch as he presses a soft kiss on seungbae’s neck.

“..who wants to be paid attention to. Who wants you to…” as Yoonbum presses more kisses, “touch me.”

Yoonbum hands reach seungbae’s hair and he strokes it slowly so that he could feel the small tuffs of hair glaze his skin. Seungbae neck immediately tenses up, and his breathing becomes heavy, almost erratic as the sounds of the desk being scraped up become clearer to hear.

“…Never ignore me.”

Love me.

Yoonbum presses his head against Seungbae’s chest, letting himself feel..and enjoy the fleeting sensations.

“..Thats why.” Yoonbum finally says and his ears flush red. Yoonbum enjoys the short silence, basking in the warmth of Seungbae’s body before Seungbae holds Yoonbum’s chin and faces it towards him.

“…Bum. You really..”

Seungbae leans forward and kisses Yoonbum’s lips for a few seconds before pulling back again.

“..Don’t know what you do to me.”

Seungbae’s stare becomes intense and the familiar shivers from that night resurface as Yoonbum’s legs suddenly weaken.

Yes..

Yoonbum could hardly contain his excitement, smile widening as his arousal grew.

Yes..yes..

“You…” Seungbae whispers, kissing him again, this time with no more restraints, no longer anymore…excuses.

Yoonbum pulls seungbae’s shirt as their lips collide, only the sounds of desperate gasps filling the room as he struggles to keep up with the increasing roughness of Seungbae’s kisses.

“Shit-“ Seungbae curses, grabbing Yoonbum's legs and placing him on the desk so abruptly that the papers flew away.

“Mn-“

Holding Seungbae’s neck, he buckles under the touch of Seungbae’s hands as they tightly hold his inner thighs, his head drowning under the fervent gaze of seungbae’s eyes.

Moving his lips to yoonbum’s shoulder, Seungbae gently sinks his teeth into them, biting long enough where Yoonbum could feel a searing pain travel from his shoulder to his neck.

“Ah-“ Yoonbum gasps, biting his fingernail. This is exactly what he yearned for all along, the pain mixed with pleasure that had always come from sex – all he just needed Seungbae to do was bite him harder.

“Bite...harder.”

Hurt me.

Seungbae pulls away from his shoulder, shaking his head.

“Ah…I can’t..do that.” Seungbae pants, sweat running down his forehead.

“W-why not..”

“...because I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you already had.

Yoonbum's pulls Seungbae's head close so he couldn’t see the sarcastic smirk that had made its way to his face.

“..I see. Then…just continue like this..”

Fuck me until I can’t think anymore.

#seungbum #yang seungbae #yoon bum #killing stalking #fanfiction #fanfic

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