#I am making this post in an effort to cool myself off before I respond because your rationale is not sound

[setaflow]

Work is a time loop because I will propose something be edited with several noticeable and identifiable reasons as to why it needs to be made and I will get a response back like "hmmm yeah I see your point but we're too lazy to make this change so we're just going to use what we have anyway :)" and then I will explode with anger and the next day will I go back to my silly little job and I will do it all over again until the sun burns itself out and kills everyone on Earth.

[lady-lys]

Mine (Harry x MC) 16+

Takes place on Confession Day. Originally posted in Canals of Sensitivity.

Maybe I’ll finish this at a later time, I’m going to sleep now—

xxx

“I refuse.”

The words hit you hard, despite knowing it was coming. It was like a stab in the heart with a knife.

“I’m being honest with you. I don’t want to be with you.”

Now he was twisting said knife.

You felt so stupid. Why did you confess? You knew this was going to happen. So utterly stupid. This was a damn waste of your time and effort.

You closed the chat room without saying another word, turning your phone off entirely before walking into the bathroom. You regretted taking a look in the mirror as you passed by it. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying.

You hated crying and you felt as if he didn’t deserve your tears. You couldn’t help it though, you cried when you felt extreme emotions, and right now you felt angry.

Maybe later you’ll feel sad but right now you feel angry. At who, you weren’t sure. Maybe at yourself for being so stupid for confessing. Maybe at Piu-Piu for making you believe this was a good idea. Maybe at Harry for being so arrogant and cold.

You needed a distraction, so you turned on the shower and set the water temperature to cold. A shock is exactly what you need, and you need to cool off from the hot anger you felt.

You stayed in there until your body became numb from the cold, quickly drying yourself off and not bothering to put on any clothes before flopping down on your bed. You were emotionally exhausted and drifted off to sleep within seconds of your head meeting the pillow.

xxx

“Piu-Piu, why hasn’t she responded?”

Harry frowned as he waited half an hour now for your reply.

“I’m not able to locate her. Her device seems to be offline. Can you blame her though?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you broke her heart! The probability of love between you was a good 92% chance and now it’s down to 0%!”

“Ugh. I didn’t reject her because I don’t like her. I just didn’t want to mess up what we already have. But it seems like I already did.”

Harry thought back on his words. He would have explained his reasoning by now if you hadn’t left the chat abruptly. He had to explain himself.

“Tell me where she is.”

He paced around his hotel room, patience running thin.

“You know I can’t reveal tha—“

“I do not care. Talking to her is part of my life pattern and I’m about to lose her. I cannot lose her.”

“Well.. when you put it that way.”

xxx

Harry wasted no time summoning Big Guy to drive him to a location 20 minutes from the hotel he was staying at in the south part of the city.

“Do not wait for me. I will call you when I am done.”

Harry briefly informed Big Guy as he stepped out of the car and into the cold night.

“But sir—“

Harry closed the door on him before he could hear the rest of his sentence.

“What floor is she on?”

Harry whispered into his phone as he made his way across the quiet lobby and towards the elevators.

“Her last known location indicates she is on the third floor.”

Harry waited impatiently as the elevator made its way up the floors. As soon as the doors opened, he rushed out and into the long corridor of doors.

“Which one is it?”

“Keep going, keep goi— here! On your right.”

Harry firmly knocked on your door. No answer.

“Why isn’t she opening her door?”

“I’m not sure, I can’t detect her when her device is offline.”

He knocks again, contemplating throwing down the door, but before he could finish the thought, the door opens and reveals you. Wrapped in nothing but thin silk bed sheets.

“Mmm, what can I help you wi-“

A cute yawn escapes your lips mid sentence. It seems the situation hasn’t quite dawned on you, making Harry smirk.

“Hello, MC.”

The deep voice you have grown to know so well finally snaps you completely awake, your eyes shooting up to meet his.

“Wha-how did you find me?!”

You asked in disbelief. You must still be dreaming. This has got to be a dream.

“I forced Piu-Piu to help me find you. I had to explain myself, but you left the chat abruptly before I could.”

Harry spoke quietly, not wanting this private matter to be heard by any neighbors.

You had forgotten entirely about what had happened hours prior, and the realization fell on you like a bucket of ice water. Your shocked expression quickly turned into a scowl.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You snapped, closing the door on him before he stopped it with his hand. There was no way you could close it now with his strength.

“Could you at least listen to me for a minute? I can’t lose you!”

His words shocked you, making you step back for a second. Harry took this as an opportunity to quickly make his way inside your apartment, locking the door behind him.

“Lose me? You never even had me!”

You shouted, gripping the silk sheets wrapped around you tighter. You only now noticed your clothing situation, or lack thereof. Harry was now able to check you out completely as you were no longer hiding behind the door. His eyes darkened.

“I refuse to lose you. You are mine.”

He said sternly as he took a step towards you. You felt a shiver run down your spine at his possessive words. No, you couldn’t let this slide. You wouldn’t let him get away with this.

“Yours? So now you want me?”

You scoffed, turning your face away from him. He made his way to you, grabbing your face and making you look up to him.

“I said I didn’t want to be with you.”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear before he continued.

“I never said I didn’t want you.”

Another shiver went down your back. You hope he didn’t notice the effect he is having on you. You grab his wrist and pull his hand away from your face, careful to not drop the sheets around your body with one hand.

“You’re too late now, Harry.”

You whisper back to him, before making your way to the door. He follows behind your every step.

“Now leave.”

You say coldly as you open the door for him, only for him to slam it back shut, an arm on either side of your head as he leans down so close to you that you can smell his expensive cologne.

“Listen to me, MC. I don’t want to ruin what we already have. I don’t want to add conflict and pressure. Why can’t you understand that what we already have is perfect?”

He glares down on you as you look up at him in shock. Anger slowly flares inside you.

“Isn’t it a little too late for you to be saying that? What we had is already ruined! I don’t want to waste my time on you any longer. I was stupid to attempt anything with you!”

You shouted up at him, trying to escape his enclosed space by punching his chest with your free hand, the other still securely holding your bedsheets. He firmly grabs your wrist and pins it above your head.

“Stop that. Listen to me.”

He says coldly, voice unwavering.

“No, Harry! You listen to me! I am done with you, I never want to see you aga—“

Your shouting is abruptly stopped with a harsh kiss. Your eyes widen as he absolutely devours your mouth. Just as quickly as he came crashing down on your lips, he left them, only a trail of saliva left connecting you.

“Don’t say that to me.”

He glares down at you, his dark eyes dark full of hunger. You want to punch him so bad. How dare he make you feel this way after he just rejected you earlier in the day! You try to unpin yourself from his grip but this only makes him press against you, completely pinning your body to the door. You suddenly feel something hard poking against your leg.

“You are mine.” He growls against your ear before he takes it between his teeth, lightly pulling on it.

“Mine.”

And he was absolutely right.

You would always be his.

[hotwings0203]

i’m thinking abt Police officer reader arresting scummy smexy Touya. Like he smirks when she arrests him and cuffs his hands to his back. I want him in me fr 😍‼️

Tw:none really, maybe sexual harassment and implied noncon

“Officer 776, we got a black sedan coming up your way on I-10. Do you copy?”

You sign and turn your music off before reaching for your walkie talkie and responding, “Yes, I copy.”

And sure enough, the only car that zooms by at 2 am on a Saturday night is a black sedan. It’s a shame, really, you were enjoying the city view by yourself without anyone to keep an eye on. You’re usually posted for ticket duty, but this time you got promoted for night watch.

You would’ve liked to continue leaning back in your seat and watch the only sky slowly dust with stars, but duty calls as the blue custom headlights go streaking past you.

Begrudgingly, you pull your driving handle back and start going after him, turning your lights on in the process and raising the siren.

You’re not even surprised when it takes some slight honking and almost a two mile mini-chase to get the car to pull over at the side of the gravelly road.

The car in front of you stalls, and you observe the status of the car itself. It’s hard to make out the look of the vehicle in the dark even with your headlights blaring in front of it, but you guess it’s a Mazda sedan or something of the sort just like how your higher-up said.

You take a deep breath and gather your flashlight as you open your door and swing outside.

On the short walk to the driver’s side you notice darker marks on the car…almost like they were scorch marks.

That’s strange.

The window is tinted and up. You roll your eyes in annoyance and give three sharp raps to the glass.

“Open the window and keep your hands on the steering wheel after.”

You wait a moment. It doesn’t budge.

A crease appears in your eyebrows and you quickly glance around. It’s completely deserted, just you and the perpetrator.

“I’m gonna have to ask you once more. Open the window otherwise-“

You cut off as the black glass slowly rolls down, revealing a man with ivory hair and black tips at the ends, his face scarred but astonishingly handsome. His mouth, eyebags, lower half of his face and ears are laced with silver piercings…stitches? Maybe, but whatever. Focus on the task at hand.

“What can I help you with meter maid?” Comes his sleazy, gravelly voice.

You lean down and rest an elbow on his lowered window, squinting at his smug face. His eyes are crinkled with the slight upturn of his lips, imitating a crude smirk.

No ones in the car with him, but you can faintly smell some kind of skunk aroma, and alarm bells go off in your head.

“Sir, do you know how fast you were driving?”

“Fast enough apparently, if I copped a sexy thing like you all for myself.”

He props his chin on his scarred hand and rests his elbow right next to yours, mocking your petulant expression.

You grimace and move your hand away from his. He pouts as you continue berating him.

“It’s 2am on a weekend, sir. Where were you headed off to that you had to be there in such a rush?”

The man sighs loudly and lets his head fall back against his leather seat, lips puffing out and fingers moving to drum against his steering wheel.

“Oh you know, the usual. Fucking bitches, getting money, anything a no-good handsome bastard like me does on the regular. Not like I’d expect you to know, meter maid.” He smirks showing his white canines and slowly looks you up and down.

When you scowl he raises his hands innocently and shrugs.

“Just kidding sweetheart. I was actually on my way to burn a few bodies, I’m a hit man y’know. Very much on the wanted list. I’m good at what I do…if you ever need a man, or a body,just call me.” He winks and his infuriating grin doesn’t falter as you yank open the door and practically throw his lanky figure out of the car.

He doesn’t put up any effort of resistance, just lets you push him down by the neck onto the hood of his car, his body bent as you begin searching him.

You know you smell some type of drug in the car but you’re not actually rooting through his pockets looking for gold. You just want a little bit of saving-face from his sleazy mouth.

He exhales and laughs as his cheek smushes against the black steel, his breath puffing up condensation on the hood while you pat his sides down.

“Put your hands on the car sir, and don’t move unless you want to be taken into a cell overnight.” You mutter as you feel his studded belt, his white tee revealing a toned yet sharp body underneath.

The man sighs in faux annoyance. “What’s with the attitude babe? If you’re feeling me up you might as well lose that cold shoulder. The name’s Touya by the way, I would’ve given it to you sooner if I knew you just wanted to get under my pants.”

You freeze as his words register right when you pay down his inner thighs for any suspicious substance-just following protocol.

Nevertheless, you instinctively shoot your hands to your side and sputter indignantly.

“You-you can’t talk to an officer like that! Are you drunk? Count to 100 for me.” You try to divert the conversations to where you have the upper hand, but you should’ve known Touya wasn’t gonna let it be that easy.

“Sure thing meter maid. It’s 1-800-*******.”

“What?”

“That’s my number. Be grateful, I don’t usually give opps my digits that easily, but you’re giving me a fun time so why not?” He cranes his head toward you and licks his lips seductively.

You’re thankful for the darkness of the night, for you can surely feel the best rise to your cheeks at his blatant…flirting?

“Shut up. Just let me do my job asshole.”

The walkie talkie crackles with static as your supervisor calls in to check on how you’re doing, but before you can speak into it Touya cries out suddenly.

“Help! Oh, help me officer! This meter maid is touching all over my little willy! She has ulterior motives I swear it!” He moans loudly and you snap the device shut before turning to him.

“Are you fucking crazy? Do you want me to get fired?” You hiss, but all you get in return is a maniacal grin.

“Sure, ‘means you can fuck around without any protocol then, right?” The man starts arching his hips up in a perverse manner and shoves his ass back into your torso.

You snarl and reach over his back, grabbing both of his hands and slapping a pair of cuffs on him before manhandling him the other way, his face finally aligned with yours, back against the cool steel.

“Oh, so you like it rough, huh?”

You ignore him and drop to a squat, taking his combat boots off less-than-gently and shaking them out for any real baggie.

“Shoulda’ told me sooner doll, we could’ve gotten this along wayyyy sooner.”

You slowly raise your eyes up and take in an eyeful of his thrusting hips mere inches from your eyes.

He’s looking down at you with one eyebrow raised and his usual smirk adorning his features.

Your blood rushes through your body like you just ran a marathon, and you abruptly stand before him, making sure your shoulder checks his straining bulge on your way up.

He yelps and doubles over, unable to clutch his prized possession.

This time when he straightens up with a twisted scowl, you’re the one grinning at him instead.

“Yeah, you’re right, actually. If you’re gonna get me fired anyways might as well do what I want, right?”

You open his passenger door and give him an innocent smile as he watches you warily.

After about 10 minutes of looting through his car and trunk, sure enough you produce a couple of large ziploc bags filled with white powder and copious amounts of cash under thinly concealed pockets in the back.

You hold all of these findings up, and each one of the revelations are either met with a mocking pout or a careless shrug.

Your skin starts to get hotter despite the chill of the night as none of your efforts to match his energy are met with any fruition. In fact, it seems to rile him up more.

“Looks like you’re getting tired hon. Why not use all that energy on this dick?”

“Hmm, I guess you’re not very good at this job, huh? You’d be better as some kind of stripper. Actually, nah, that’s too good of a job for you, maybe a prostitute stuck in my bed would satisfy you.”

On and on he goes as you practically raid his car, even throwing out belongings that aren’t in any way questionable.

Eventually you reach your tipping point. You make sure he’s watching you as you walk around back towards him and plant your feet squarely in front of him, taking your stance.

You reach into your pocket to produce your walkie, cock your arm back, and throw it as far as you can into the surrounding field.

“Where’s that smile now Touya? You scared you can’t defend yourself without anyone on the other side listening in?”

The ivory haired man shakes his head and sighs as if dealing with a grace loss. Your own brows furrowed as he looks up at you with a sorrowful expression, one that doesn’t quite scream sincere when the car lights reflect an excited gleam in his cerulean eyes.

“Nah, sweetheart. I’m actually more worried for you.”

And with a sound as soft as bell chimes, the tugs his hands at the back for a moment and brings his arms forward, palms spread and showing you cuff-less palms of blue hellfire.

He thinks you look pretty when the blue light reflects pure terror on your shadowed face.

“That was a stupid move, throwing your only hope of salvation away. I wasn’t lying, y’know. I really am a hit man. But I’ll take my own offer.”

As you turn to begin to sprint away he smiles again, this one more earnestly remorseful.

“I’ll be a hit man and a body you need for tonight.”

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 5

Word count: 4.0K

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Adam: You followed me

I stare at the three words, blinking with tired eyes. All I want to do is sleep, especially after the day I’ve had with Holden, but the baby decided kicking me was more important. So here I am at four o’clock in the morning checking my social media when I should be getting another three hours of sleep.

I rub my eyes, unsure of how to even respond to the message.

It’s just a statement. I feel flabbergasted by it- really, we haven’t talked in years- well, technically months, but the last time we saw each other we just fucked, and our child went to see him without my knowledge or consent. How the fuck am I supposed to respond to those three words?

Y/N: I think we need to talk.

I sigh, setting my phone down. Might as well get straight to the point. The sooner I tell him about the second baby and ask why he would see Holden without at least running it past me the better. I roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Hopefully I can sleep at least a little bit longer. I’m going to need it to deal with the moody adolescent I’ll be seeing in the morning.

~

“I made some toast and bacon. Just let me just finish cutting up these strawberries and then breakfast will be ready,” I inform Holden as he hops down the stairs.

He picks up the filled plate waiting for him on the table, throwing the food into the trashcan and setting the plate on the counter, giving me an expectant look.

I stare blankly back at him. I know he’s waiting for a reaction. He wants me to blow up so then he feels okay yelling at me instead of starting the confrontation himself. Instead, I just say, “That’s wasteful.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his backpack from its usual spot by the door and making his way outside, letting it slam shut behind him. I release the breath that I’ve been holding in, popping a strawberry into my mouth.

I open my Instagram app to catch up on the posts that I’ve missed, freezing when I see that I’ve received a DM. I forgot that I sent a message to Adam last night. Well, technically this morning. After I sent the message, I passed out hard, and I thought the whole thing was a fever dream.

Adam: What about?

Adam: Here’s my number

My fingers tap the screen quietly as I add his phone number into my contacts, saving it and staring at it blankly.

Well. No time like the present.

Before I can even realize what I’m doing, before I can even think things through and decide what to say or whether this is a good idea or not, or hell, even what time it is in Chicago right now, I click on the phone icon.

I curse to myself, raising the phone to my ear. Absentmindedly, my hand raises to my mouth so I can chew on my fingernail. Nail-biting is a nervous habit that I gave up years ago, but I guess old habits die hard.

“Hello?” His groggy voice comes through the phone.

I can’t breathe.

The oxygen gets stuck in my lungs. All I can think about are his hands on my body, sliding down to grip my hips. The twinkle in his eyes as I would pull my shirt over my head.

And not to mention the last time I saw him. His hair is longer than he used to keep it, but it suits him. It looks good on him. And he bulked up since the last time I saw him, too- his abs definitely looked and felt like it, anyways.

“Hello?” He repeats, sounding more awake and borderline annoyed now.

“Adam,” I respond softly, suddenly feeling shy. Come on, where did my confidence go? I’ll need it to get through this conversation.

“Y/N,” he says, all sounds of annoyance out of his voice. “You actually called, I didn’t think that you would-“”Sorry for waking you up,” I blurt out, glancing at the clock and seeing that it’s seven in the morning here. Chicago is an hour behind Philadelphia- it’s what kept me from calling the boys on the team late at night for several years.

“Oh, no, no, don’t you ever worry about that,” he reassures me. It’s quiet. I know he’s waiting for me to speak, to let him know what I want to talk to him about, but I just can’t get the words out. I feel them stuck in my throat, clawing to escape. “So, how’s Holden?”

And there it is.

That question is what spurs me to speak, to dig into the man who hid a huge secret like that from me. But I guess I’m doing the same thing to him now.

“I don’t know, how is he, Adam?” I spit out.

He sighs. He sighs. I want to punch his perfect fucking face.

“If I had realized that you had such a problem with it-“”Such a problem with it?” I repeat, not believing my own ears. Suddenly I’m reminded of why I decided not to tell Adam about this baby and why he wasn’t ready to be in Holden’s life for thirteen years. Hell, it sounds like he’s still not ready.

“My son lied to me about his intentions of going to Chicago, traveled halfway across the country by himself, and saw someone who he’s never met before. Yes, I have a fucking problem with it,” I growl.

“Our son.”

“What?”

“He’s our son. You said my son.”

All I want to do right now is to reach through this tiny screen and hit him upside the head. Really, after I lay out all of my concerns, this is all he has to say to me?

“Whatever. When are you coming to Philadelphia next?” I question. I don’t want to air all of grievances and talk about the new baby over the phone. I’ve had enough communication classes to know that you need to see someone’s nonverbal behaviors instead just hearing what they have to say.

“Why? You want to see me?” Suggestion laces his tone.

No, asshole, you already got me pregnant again.

“Yes. We need to talk about Holden… and some other things,” my voice trails off at the end, not sure how to warn him about such big news.

“Some other things, eh? Well, I’ll be looking forward to that,” he responds, clearly thinking that it’s something regarding us and our relationship, well, our dislike or lust for one another or something, instead of picking up what I’m trying to hint at.

“Cool. So, can you take a trip to Philly sometime soon or are you going to wait until hockey season?” I inquire.

“I can take a trip there, just for you. And Holden, of course.”

I can’t help but let a small smile slip onto my face. That sentence shows me that he’d be a good dad if he just put in the effort. It infuriates me that he’s kept that from Holden for years just because he hasn’t felt like working towards a relationship with his son.

“Good. Let me know when you’re in town so we can meet up.”

“What? You’re not going to invite me to stay with you?”

“Goodbye, Adam.” I hang up before he can respond. All I can imagine the rest of the day is his reaction after that phone call. He would have that small, knowing smile on his face, pulling his phone out of his pocket every five minutes to check and see if he got a new text from me or to send the fifth one in a row to me- one that I still would not respond to.

And my heart skips a beat at the thought of that.

~

It’s been a week since the phone call and since Adam sent me a screenshot of his booked ticket to Philadelphia two weeks from then. For some reason, maybe it’s the stupid, hopeless romantic part in me, I had hoped that he would book his plane ticket and hotel room for that night or even the next day. But he told me he had some ‘lose ends’ to tie up in Chicago before leaving.

And it’s also been a week since Holden has said a word to me. I’ve tried talking to him. I’ve asked him about his day, his friends, cooked him his favorite meals all week, I even offered to take him to Target to get a new video game.

None of that has worked. And it hurts. It hurts knowing that after everything I’ve done for him and everything I’ve sacrificed for him, and how Adam has done none of that, he looks at Adam like a God and me like the scum on the bottom of his shoe.

I know it’s what I’m supposed to do as a mother, care for my son and make sure he’s happy, but it’s just- it’s just- ugh.

I start to feel my blood boil as my mom’s voice echoes in the back of my head. Life’s not fair.

It’s then that I realize that I’ve given him enough space and time to figure out his feelings and how he wants to proceed. I don’t want to give him too much space that he begins to resent me and feel like I don’t care about him.

I know that feeling all too well.

I knock on his bedroom door softly, waiting for him to open it before I just walk in. It creeks open slightly, and just as I expected, eyes matching my mom’s peek out to glare at me.

“Can I talk to you, Holden?”

He doesn’t respond, just stares at me.

“Please, you don’t even have to talk, just listen,” I beg.

Fortunately, he opens the door the rest of the way, watching as I walk into his room and sit gently on the edge of the bed. He sits down on his worn computer chair, laptop open to some video game I don’t recognize on his desk.

“I want to start by apologizing for yelling at you last week,” I begin, taking a deep breath. Apologizing isn’t something that comes easy to me- I grew up in a family where the words ‘I’m sorry’ were unheard of. My parents were always right, and I was always wrong.

“I realize it probably wasn’t easy for you to go to Chicago by yourself to meet your dad. Holden, I just want you to realize that I would do anything to protect you, and I love you with my whole heart so realizing that you were in such an emotionally taxing situation without talking to me about it first-“I pause to sniffle, starting to feel tears well up in my eyes. “I felt helpless. And I couldn’t stop wondering why you didn’t feel like you could share that with me and then I realized that it’s because I don’t share stuff with you either.”

He watches as I lift my sleeve, wiping the tears from under my eyes. His face is still blank, but his eyes look like they’ve softened. He’s understanding my words so far.

“So, yes, this baby is also Adam’s baby. And he did ask about you when I saw him back in February, but I let my pride get the best of me and I told him that he didn’t deserve to see you. I’m sorry for robbing you of meeting your father earlier,” I genuinely apologize, maintaining eye contact with my son.

He shifts in his seat, his hard exterior softening with every word. “Well, I’m sorry for calling you a shitty mother. And saying all of that other stuff. And, if it makes you feel better, I did go to the computer programming camp. I just saw Adam when we had a night off.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nods.

“What did he tell you? About not being involved in your life?” I ask carefully, curious as to what Adam told Holden to turn him against me like that.

“He just told me that he was working through some stuff,” he shrugs, acting like he doesn’t care but I know my son well enough to tell that he does. “And he wasn’t ready until recently to meet me.”

I bite my tongue to keep it from releasing an insult towards Adam. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Honestly?” I nod, probing him to go on. “Pretty awful. I don’t think I want a relationship with him, mom.”

A mix of emotions run through my body at his word. I feel anxious, because now I have to tell him that Adam’s coming next week and will want to see him, sadness, because my son now recognizes how his father did not want be involved in his life, and anger toward Adam for making him feel like this in the first place.

“Well,” I cough awkwardly. “He’s coming to Philadelphia next week. I’m going to meet him to tell him about the baby. If you don’t want to see him, you don’t have to. It’s all up to you, bud.”

I stand up slowly, rubbing my belly as the baby begins to kick. He always seems to do that whenever I move even just a little bit- he’s an active little guy.

“Oh,” I turn back around just as I’m about to close the door. “How did you even find out who your father is?”

“Please mom, I’m not stupid,” he grins slyly at me, sliding his headphones onto his neck. “You lived in Chicago when you got pregnant with me and worked for the Blackhawks. I figured, since you said you worked a lot, the only guys you really had a chance to be with were on the team. And when I asked you about my dad for that project for school you said he was Swedish, so I just went to the Blackhawks roster in 2020 and found the Swedish players, messaging them some really uncomfortable and intrusive messages on Instagram.”

I chuckle at that, shaking my head. It will never not blow my mind how clever and smart he is. As I close the door to his bedroom, I hear him say, “On the plus side, Alex Nylander is a really nice guy.”

~

The day is finally here. Being eighteen weeks pregnant makes it really hard to hide my baby bump, but I somehow manage to find a baggy sweatshirt that I’ve stolen from one of my ex-boyfriends to cover it up. I don’t want to walk into the restaurant we’re meeting at and have him immediately know.

Somehow my jeans still fit on my legs, but I have a feeling by the end of this lunch they’ll be unbuttoned. It’s just the way it goes sometimes.

I get to the restaurant before Adam, just like how I planned it. I wanted time to scope out my exits in case I need to bail halfway through this meal- knowing Adam, it’s a possibility. I haven’t thought through what I was going to say too much.

I know I need to talk to him about why he would keep Holden going to Chicago to see him a secret from me, and we need to talk about the baby.

But mostly I just want to hear him grovel. The secret, sadistic part of me wants to hear him beg for forgiveness for making me raise my child by myself for the past thirteen years. I want to hear him admit that he fucked up- I’ve never heard Adam Boqvist admit that he fucked up before.

He shows up two minutes late.

I know because my phone is sitting face up on the table and I click on it every five seconds to see what time it is. I tell myself that if it gets ten minutes past noon and he’s still not here, I’m going home and giving up on dealing with Adam ever again.

But then he’s standing in front of me, familiar toothy grin on his face, black beanie on his shaggy hair, and a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

“You’re late,” I state sternly, not letting any sign of emotion onto my face. I need to let him know I mean business. I need to let him know that I’m never getting into bed with him ever again.

“Yeah, sorry, there was a line at the grocery store,” his grin begins to slip, but as he holds the bouquet out towards me, it takes over his face once again. “I got you these.”

“Thanks.”

I don’t make any movement towards them. His smile falls once again and I begin to feel guilty- he did buy these flowers for me, but he also impregnated me and left me twice.

He slides into the chair across the table from me, setting the flowers on the table and coughing awkwardly. “So, have you ordered yet?”

“Just water,” I respond shortly.

“Do you want to split a bottle of wine?”

“I’m not really a day drinker,” I eye him over the top of my menu, then go back to skimming through the items. It’s a charade, though. I already know what I want.

“Are you two ready to order?” The peppy waitress appears at our side, notepad open in her hand.

“I’ll have the chicken alfredo,” I announce, folding my menu.

“I’ll take that too. And a bottle of your sweetest wine, please,” the blonde orders, passing his menu to the waitress. When she leaves, he turns back to me. “I know you like the sweet stuff.”

I take a deep breath, deciding to cut to the chase. I’d rather get through this meal as soon as possible. The sooner we get done talking about this stuff, the sooner I can get out of here.

“Adam, I’m pregnant.”

He chokes on the sip of water he’s just taken from his glass, water dripping down his chin and landing on the table in front of him. I can’t help but watch with a content smile as he coughs, trying to catch his breath.

“Excuse me?” He utters through coughs, wiping his chin with a napkin.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeat. “I’m due in November.”

“Well, uh, congratulations,” he says unsurely.

I roll my eyes, muttering, “You clearly haven’t gotten smarter since last time.”

He seems to catch on to the hidden meaning behind my comment, his eyes widening. “Oh is it- since we-“”It’s your baby,” I conclude bluntly.

A smirk begins to spread across his face. I can’t believe it. He’s smirking just after I told him that he got me pregnant accidentally for the second time.

“Why do you have that look?” I snap.

“My little swimmers work pretty well, don’t they?” He inquires confidently, sipping from his water and succeeding this time.

I lean across the table, turning it on him. “I don’t know, do they? Are there any half-siblings that I need to worry about?”

The smirk is replaced by a look of genuineness now. It startles me, the sudden change of emotions. “No, it’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

I lean back in my seat, the sudden seriousness too much for me to bear. I fiddle with the napkin sitting next to my glass, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yeah, so it’s a boy.”

“Another boy,” he echoes my very thoughts the moment I found out the sex.

I grin at the thought of my second child. When he’s been kicking me at night and keeping me awake, I think about what he’s going to be like. Is he going to cry a lot or is he going to be a quiet baby like Holden was? Will I have to keep an eye on him every minute or will I be able to get some breaks?

And what about when he’s older. Will he like hockey like his dad? Would he like the Flyers because we live in Philadelphia, or would he like the Blackhawks because his dad plays for them?

“Speaking of boys, how is Holden doing? He hasn’t been responding to my texts lately.” Adam means for the question to sound casual, but I can hear the undertone of worry in his voice. Maybe he isn’t as much of a shitty father as I think he is.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” I confess.

He doesn’t bother to hide the hurt on his face. I don’t expect him to. I know how it feels to feel unwanted and unloved by your child- I felt it when Holden told me that I’m a shitty mother. And although Adam deserves the consequences to his actions, I can’t help but feel a small amount of pity for him.

“I deserve that,” he sighs.

“You do,” I agree, knowing that I’m shoving the knife deeper into his heart. “But just give him time to decide what he wants to do. It’s all so fresh to him.”

He gives me a small, vulnerable smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to see you while he was in Chicago, Adam?” I ask him the question I’ve been dying to ask ever since I found out about the situation.

He shrugs, not saying a word.

“Yes, you do know,” I persist. “So just fucking tell me. Enough of the bullshit, we’re in our thirties now. It’s time to focus on the children, not your fucking pride.”

He looks baffled by my sudden outburst, but it inspires him to answer. “I was afraid that if you found out, you would stop him. Then I’d never get to meet my son.”

“I would have stopped him,” I agreed, causing him to open his mouth to begin arguing with me. I start to speak again before he can begin. “And reschedule the trip to a time that works better with my work schedule so that I could go with him. Yes, you’re his father, but you’ve never been in his life. You’re essentially a stranger to him.”

He narrows his eyes at me like my words are a challenge. “Not anymore.”

I narrow my eyes at him now. “Really? What’s his middle name? When is his birthday? What’s his favorite color?”

He doesn’t respond and I scoff, taking a sip of my water again. “That’s what I thought.”

We’re quiet as the waitress returns with our meals. I cut my noodles, taking a bite of my food.

“I don’t want it to be that way with this baby,” he says, quickly adding, “And Holden anymore. I want to be there for this baby from the start. Or from now, I guess. And I want to be there for Holden, if he ever wants me.”

Mixed feelings begin to flush through my body. This is what I wanted for my kids from the beginning, an active father figure. And Adam’s offering it now, but why am I still feeling so hesitant?

After years of expecting him to step up as a parent and him never doing it, I have reasonable doubts when it comes to Adam’s parenting ability.

“Well, you know it’s up to Holden. You can’t force him to like you,” I begin slowly, trying to phrase my words in the best way possible. “But with this second baby… we can try it. I have a doctor’s appointment in two days. I’ll text you the address and time.”

“But my flight leaves tomorrow,” he whines. “Can’t you just reschedule for today?”

“You have so much to learn, Adam,” I shake my head. “I just hope you realize that being a parent means that you’re selfless more than selfish. Tell you what, go back to Chicago if you want to. But if you go back to Chicago, the only time you’ll communicate with the boys is when they want to talk to you.”

[hskrealm]

innocence (m.)

pairing: drag racer yoongi x reader                     

genre: fluff, smutsmutsmut. (this post took a turn i swear)

word count: 3.2k

warnings: overstimulation, PET NAMES SO MANY PET NAMES WHAT WAS I THINKING, fingering, oral (f receiving), cute shit, virgin!reader, yoongi is a bit persuasive, etc.

summary: your best friend wants to take your innocence in every possible way.  

a/n: i wrote this MONTHS ago, and i literally forgot about it up until yesterday, or sometime before that? i was sad because I deleted it, but my bby @bitchyaus reblogged it after i posted it, and i have NEEEEVEEER been happier.

You hummed as you sat on your couch while scrolling through your social media feed and taking small bites of your favorite snack every now and then.

It was only 7:09. You’d usually find something to occupy yourself every day until 8:00 on the dot (although he’d come early sometimes, but that wasn’t often), which was when Yoongi would come knocking on your door with a new story to tell and to raid your fridge of whatever he could find.

If necessary, you’d tend to the few bruises his beautiful face would sport.

Once he was comfortable enough to tell you what his occupation was, you cringed the moment you imagined him sitting behind the wheel of a vehicle, pushing 200 to nearly 300 miles on a daily basis.

You begged him to consider something safer, to which he responded with a small smirk,

“I’ve been doing this years before I even met you. If I’ve managed to keep myself in good condition for this long, then I’m sure that you have nothing to worry about.”

This had become a repetitive cycle in the short year that you had known him. He’d shoot you a text before he went out for the day, and come speeding back to your place once he was let off of work.

Or–when he let himself off, rather. He never really was the type to follow rules anyway.

You smiled fondly at the thought of seeing his gummy smile sometime in the next hour.

You checked your phone again.

7:14.

Well, 46 minutes to be exact.

You sighed and tossed your head back against the couch cushions as you tried to register what about this man had you so whipped for him.

Could be the fact that he was a sweetheart when it came to you,

Or it could also be the fact that he looked so fucking hot driving those cars despite how much you hated seeing him behind the wheel.

Or, it could be that he had really, really pretty hands–

There was a loud knock at your door. It carried the same loudness that Yoongi’s carried.

Okay, you have really got to find yourself a hobby.

The person knocked twice, and then there was a three second pause before the last and final knock came.

You grinned as you rushed over toward the door.

There was his signature knock that he had given himself sometime a few weeks ago.

He suggested that he should have a special knock so you knew it was him, although you told him multiple times that no one other than him or your best friend came to visit.

He still wouldn’t let up even then, muttering something about how it would be the safest measure. You then (jokingly) proceeded to tell him he knew nothing about safety, which led him to tell you about all of the safety precautions people in his profession must take before even considering driving one of those high speed  cars.

He couldn’t take a joke, but that was alright. You loved him anyway.

You took a quick glance through the peephole just to make sure it was him before you unlocked the door.

As usual, he rushed in and threw his bag to the ground before making a beeline to your kitchen.

“Nice to see you too.” You smiled a bit, closing the door back and locking it behind yourself.

“I shouldn’t have to greet you anymore when I enter.” He spoke, although his voice was a bit muffled since he was bent over as he shuffled through your fridge.

“It’d be nice, though.” You sighed dramatically as you walked back over to your couch and flopped onto it.

“Sure.” He shrugged, returning from the kitchen to take his spot next to you on the couch as he always did.

“Hello, Princess.” He smirked, laughing at the way you rolled your eyes and looked away from him.

He’d called you that for forever now, and you’d be a terrible fucking liar if you were to say that it didn’t make your pussy clench.

He knew that it did, too, which was why he said it.

“Did you do something productive today?” He asked, as he took a bite out of one of the strawberries out of the bowl that he quickly prepared for himself.

“I did some school work earlier.” You shrugged, gesturing toward your closed laptop that sat on the arm of the couch closest to you.

He hummed, nodding approvingly.

“Good girl,” He noticed the way that your body shivered at his praise. He always talked like this, but for some reason it was really having an impact on you right now. 

“Have you eaten something filling today?” You bit your lip. 

You hadn’t had a ‘meal’, but you had some pretty filling snacks. You just weren’t in the mood to cook anything, or even order something.

There was no point in lying to him either, because he could see right through you.

“Depends on what the word filling means.” You responded, as if this wasn’t a question that he asked you everyday. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you and set the bowl of strawberries down on your coffee table before quickly reaching over your thighs to grab the bag of chips that you had been snacking on before his arrival.

His hand brushed over the exposed skin of your legs, causing you to gulp. He was always a forward person, but never this forward.

“This isn’t a meal, ____ . “ He scolded, and you rolled your eyes.

“I know, but I can promise you that I am satiated.” Yoongi shook his head in disbelief.

“You hungry?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as he stared into your eyes with his arms crossed.

“Nope.” As if on cue, your stomach growled.

“Mhm.” He mocked, handing you the bowl of strawberries before standing up.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused as to why he was suddenly up on his feet.

“I’m about to cook you something, little girl.” He rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen.

“Yoongiiii-“

“In the mood for pasta? You’ve got all of the ingredients I’d need to make you some alfredo.” You groaned.

“My stomach growls all the time! I’m not hungry, I swear.” He was already pulling out pots and pans from your cupboards as your voice went through one ear and out of the other.

“Suck on those strawberries with those pretty lips of yours while I cook this, hm?” He said, leaning against the kitchen counter with his elbows resting against it.

“I don’t want the straw–”

“I already put the noodles in the pot, so you’re shit out of luck.”

———

Yoongi had been in the kitchen for half an hour while you caught up on your favorite Netflix series.

You should’ve just lied and said yes. He was going through way too much trouble for you.

“Alright,”  He began, as he finally left the kitchen.

“Should be good to eat in a few minutes.” He slid back onto the couch.

“Mind if I use your laptop to check my stats? I’m sure they’ve gone up.” He bragged. You playfully rolled your eyes and handed him your laptop, before directing your attention back to your TV.

Yoongi began typing away for a few minutes, until his fingers paused, his eyes grew wide, and he choked on air.

“What? Those stats not what you expected them to be?” You laughed, Yoongi turning his head to look at you before clicking on a tab at the top of the screen and pushing the laptop in your direction.

“What– Oh my God, give me that!” You yelled, Yoongi easily fighting off your efforts to grab the laptop away from him by shoving his arm against your chest.

“Are these your nudes?” He asked, although it was painfully clear that they were.

Yoongi smirked at the way you began to blush profusely.

Holy shit, you were going to die of embarrassment. 

‘Play it cool.’ You thought to yourself.

“Yeah? So what if they are?” You used this opportunity to snatch the laptop away from him and close the tab, before shutting the laptop off and setting it on the coffee table where the empty strawberry bowl was.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, taken aback by your response.

“Clearly you don’t seem to mind.” You smirked, gesturing to the bulge forming in his pants.

He dropped the smirk on his face as he inched closer to you. You reflexively backed away from him.

“You talk pretty big for a virgin, sweetheart.” He growled. Your stomach fell to the bottom of your ass at his words.

You weren’t sure of what to say.

“Uh, I never told—“

“You’d be surprised of what you tell me when you’re drunk.” He reached forward to twirl a strand of your hair around his pointer finger before tucking it behind your ear, as if he had done this to you before.

“Since we’re letting secrets go, you should know that I’ve thought about fucking you plenty of times.” He hummed, as he traced your jawline with his fingers.

“You haven’t got any idea of what thinking about stripping you of your innocence does to me, sweetheart.”

Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

“I know that you’d let me, too.” He slowly pushed you backward until your back hit the couch.

“You would let me, wouldn’t you?” He looked into your eyes, waiting for your approval before he took anything further.

You thought about it.

Did you really want to lose your virginity to this sexy drag racer that you’ve grown to become best friends with over the past year?

Hell yes.

“Yes, yes I’d let you.” You stuttered, causing him to groan at your admittance. 

He was going to corrupt you more and more day by day before you even realized it.

And fuck, he couldn’t wait.

“Hmm.” He hummed against your skin, as he nudged your head to the side so he could expose the skin of your neck.

He quickly began to suck love bites against the skin, eager to cut straight to the chase in order to get a taste of that perfect cunt that was spread wide in that picture.

“How far have you gone, baby?” He asked, as he tugged your shirt up over your chest and kissed his way around your breasts.

“I–I’ve, fuck,” You moaned, as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth.

“I’m sorry, you’ve done what?” He mumbled against your hardening bud. You whimpered.

“I-I’ve masturbated with a toy.” Yoongi detached his mouth from your nipple.

“That’s all?” You nodded shyly.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” He hungrily kissed down the rest of your body, stopping right above the band of your shorts.

“I’ve got to taste you to get you prepared to take me. Is that alright?” He wasn’t lying. It would help you adjust to his size a bit easier, but it was mostly for his own personal pleasure.

You nodded, and he wasted no time in tugging down your shorts and panties in one swift motion. 

“Oh my God.” He nearly whimpered at the sight of your untouched pussy. You began to close your legs as he stared down at your most intimate areas, which prompted him to roughly throw one of your legs over the back of the couch so you were forced to keep yourself spread for him.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He warned. You nodded, murmuring an apology as he laid himself flat against the couch and pulled your hips closer to his face.

He breathed shakily against your core. You began to writhe in his hold as his cool breath hit your exposed pussy lips.

“Are you sure about this, baby? We could stop this at any moment.” He asked for the final time. It made you smile that he continued to ask you if this was really what you wanted.

“I’m sure. Please–oh, shit!” You yelped. Yoongi hadn’t even let you finish your sentence before he had his lips wrapped around your clit.

Your hands hesitantly tangled in his hair, as you were uncertain if he was okay with you touching him or not.

He sensed your hesitation and moaned in approval as you testingly tugged at his blonde locks.

His moan vibrated against your core, causing you to buck your hips up toward his face.

He grunted at this, using one of his arms to pin you down to the couch by your stomach, while his other arm pushed your flailing leg away from his face so he had more access to his meal.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” He growled into you, his cock growing harder underneath him as more of your juices began to gush onto his face.

You didn’t know how it was possible, but he managed to pull you even closer to him as he licked a long stripe from your dripping hole back up to your clit, before he dipped his tongue inside of your clenching cunt and (quite literally) fucked you with his tongue.

You were a mess above him, your hair matted and stuck to your sweaty forehead as you relished in the feeling of his tongue collecting every drop of your arousal.

“‘M gonna cum, so fucking close, please please–” You begged him with your eyes closed. He took a glance up at you, wanting to watch you come undone on his tongue.

“SHIT!” You screamed, the euphoric bliss of your first orgasm knocking the wind out of you.

Yoongi hummed and pulled his tongue out of you, slipping two of his fingers into his mouth before lining them up with your cunt.

“You with me, babygirl?” He asked. You opened your eyes so you could see him, but you immediately closed them again ad he slid his digits into your wet hole.

“Ughh, oh my fucking God!” You let out a broken moan, tears welling in your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Hey, you’re okay, hm? I need to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible if you’re still willing to take my cock.” His words were caring, although there was a bit of cockiness behind them, almost as if he knew that you still would be in at least some pain from the stretch.

The thought alone excited him.

“Just a little bit more, okay? Hold out for me.” You were about to protest, when he pressed his hand against your lower stomach and began to piston his fingers in and out of you like a machine. 

He curled them perfectly against that little spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling toward the back of your head, and your toes curling in pleasure.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you came for the second time within a five minute span.

Yoongi left you to yourself for a moment as he hastily tugged his jeans down, not wanting to waste time to pull them off completely. 

He was so eager to have your little cunt pulsing around him.

He fished around in his back pocket for a condom. He was thanking himself mentally for forgetting to take it out the last time he wore those jeans a few weeks ago.

“Could you be a doll and roll this on for me, baby?” He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and quickly tossed it aside as he handed you the slippery thing.

You took it with shaky hands, still not completely over your last two orgasms as you gently grabbed his cock and spread the condom over it.

“Oh, fuck.” He growled, the feeling of your little hand spreading over his throbbing dick enough to make him cum right there.

He desperately needed to be inside of you.

He grabbed his cock and began to rub circles around your clit, the small action making you gasp for air because of how sensitive you already were.

“Think you can still handle me?” You looked up at him. He wasn’t smirking, but you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Mhm, j-just please, be gentle.” You whimpered, and Yoongi nodded as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

For now.

He pushed just the tip into you, instantly catching your lips with his to prevent any sound of discomfort from leaving your mouth.

“Ready for some more?” He asked sweetly, as he pressed his forehead against yours. You winced, but nodded anyway.

He pushed the rest of his cock into you inch by inch, attempting to nullify the pain a bit by leaving kisses along the side of your neck and jaw.

“You’re taking me so well, ____.” He sat still for a moment, letting you adjust before he rocked his hips slightly.

He looked at you for approval, and when you nodded once he began to set a slow, steady rhythm with the pace of his thrusts.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby. You’re squeezing me so tight, I can barely fit my cock through.” You weren’t sure what it was about the way that he was talking to you, but it just made you clench around him even harder as he began to pick up speed.

“I need you to cum with me, Princess. Can you do that for me?” You nodded eagerly, already on the brink of insanity.

He licked his thumb and brought it down to your clit. You squeaked, and he grunted above you as he tried to ease himself inside of you without hurting you.

“Now, cum now.” He ordered, his arms shaking as he held himself up above you to prevent from collapsing on top of your chest.

You came with your mouth held open in a silent moan, your legs spasming around Yoongi’s waist as he slowly pulled out of you.

The corruption was only beginning.

“Hungry? I’m sure the food is plenty cool now.” You laughed breathlessly at his lame joke, as you covered your face with your hands while trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll go grab some for you, but I’ve got a question for you first.” He paused. “No, wait, two actually.” You glanced at him.

“Go for it.” You said, voice hoarse.

“Would you let me take you out sometime? I mean, on a real date?” You scoffed.

“I thought you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend or something.” You laughed. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I was.” You froze.

“I backed out, though.”

“I mean, I would’ve said yes.” He snapped his head toward you.

“You would have?” You nodded, a small smile on your face.

“In that case, will you be my girlfriend, then?” You giggled at his shy demeanor, a complete 180 from how he handled you just a few minutes ago.

“Yes, I will.” He leaned down to peck your cheek.

“My last question...”

“Yeeeees?” You encouraged him to continue.

“Why are your nudes on your laptop anyway?”

“I hate you.”

tag list! let me know if you want to be on it. (you could send me a message, an ask, or just comment under this fic)

@bitchyaus @dontaskshhhhh @taesluttt @1-in-abillion @designjet @peachy-bhun @patpus @koracynthia120 @safi4x @lcnycto @someonewhowannadielol @dreamingsmile @rinastylesworld @fan-ati--c @sincemalik @bts-bay-bee @cestlaviecia @jeonjungkookiiee @bunny-kix03

[caught-in-the-filter]

Emma Was Cold

A Neverland smut fic for @neverlandnewyear​ and @csjanuaryjoy​

Summary: Emma Swan finds that Neverland nights get surprisingly cold. Luckily, Captain Hook has some experience in keeping warm.

4006 Words; Rated: E; AO3

A/N: This is basically Neverland PWP. It was inspired by something I commented in the CS Movie Marathon Discord a while back, and I never expected to actually write the thing myself. This is the first full smut fic I’m publicly posting with one of my urls attached, so I’m both excited and scared to share it. First, I need to give a huge shoutout to all the lovely people on the CSMM, CSNLNY, and CSJJ Discords for all their encouragement and assistance while I struggled to write this fic. Special shoutouts to @teamhook​, @kmomof4​, @hollyethecurious​, and @donteattheappleshook​ for reviewing bits of the doc for me as I went along and being super supportive, and especially to Maddie for also giving it a last minute full review once I finished it and helping me with edits. Also a big thank you to the mods for running these amazing events and for working together to allow us to cross-post between the two.

Alright, here we go....

——

“Are you alright, Swan?” Hook asked as he turned toward Emma to find her shivering where she lay a few feet away from him, his question prompted by the fact that he could actually hear the clacking sound of her teeth chattering.

“I’m f-fine,” Emma answered, curling further into herself as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms beneath the threadbare blanket that provided her with such little warmth. Who’d have thought Neverland would get so cold at night? She wished she’d worn more than a thin tank top, which served her well during the blazing heat of the day but offered no protection from the cool temperatures she faced now.

“Are you sure?” he prodded with a smirk, “If you’d like me to keep you warm, love, you need only ask. I’d be more than willing to—”

“I said I’m fine,” Emma snapped, “and I’m not your love.”

“Suit yourself.” Hook rolled back onto his side. “Like everything else on this island, Neverland nights are not kind. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

——

Emma was cold, so cold that she couldn’t stop shaking despite her best efforts. Tensing only made it worse, but she just couldn’t relax either. She cursed herself under her breath, knowing she shouldn’t give in but desperate for the rest she knew she’d never find in such a state.

“Hook?” she whispered, padding over to where he lay apart from the rest, half hoping he would already be asleep.

“Hm?” He turned toward her once more, the smirk returning to his face and burning a hole right through her.

Emma wondered if the embarrassment that set fire to her cheeks would be enough to warm her, but she’d already gained his attention.

“Did you have a change of heart then, love?” Hook questioned. “Are you ready to warm up to me? Or with me, I should say.”

“Nevermind,” Emma rolled her eyes and stepped away from him in annoyance, hoping he couldn’t see her shivering.

“Swan—”

“No.”

“Swan, please look at me,” he pleaded, more softly than she’d have expected. She turned toward him impatiently, ready to go off on him if necessary, but found a gentle look in his eyes and let him continue.

“I may be a bit brash when it comes to making my interest known, Emma, but I assure you I am nothing if not a gentleman. Neverland is a cruel place and I would not wish to make it any more so. If we are to share warmth in a strictly practical manner, so be it.” He waved her over to him, his hooked arm outstretched in invitation to serve as her pillow. “You need rest, and I won’t let you freeze to death in your sleep before we rescue your boy.”

Emma approached him with caution, hesitating before she sat and turned her back to him as she rested her head on his arm. She wondered how he could sleep in that leather duster of his, but as he held her close, pressing his chest flush against her back but making a point to turn his hips away from her, and draped the thick material of the coat over her as well, she realized just how comfortable it actually was. She wouldn’t admit to the sudden and surprising sense of calm that washed over her as she settled next to him, but in the unexplainable safety, it didn’t take long before she was sound asleep.

——

Though it was still dark when she awoke, Emma felt as refreshed as if she’d had a full night’s sleep, a feeling and a feat she hadn’t achieved in a very long time. She huffed out a breath with a roll of her eyes when she realized she’d been pinned by Hook’s other arm which curled loosely around her middle. He must have turned in his sleep, somehow gently enough to not wake her. Her instincts said to shove him away, but he had been decent enough to respect her boundaries in his offer. And, after all, she was much warmer this way, which was the whole point of moving closer together.

He suddenly shifted in his sleep again, and Emma gasped when she felt his clothed warmth brush against her denim-clad ass. Wait, was he actually hard?! Before she could stop herself, Emma let out an involuntary moan when he rubbed against her again and she immediately froze, wide-eyed and praying he didn’t hear her as all the heat they’d shared travelled south, save for that which reddened her cheeks. After a moment had passed without a reaction from him, she allowed herself to relax again, only to be suddenly pulled closer to him.

“Sounds like you liked that, Swan?” Hook remarked and rolled his hips ever so slightly. She could sense the shit-eating grin returning to his smug face.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he did it again before she responded, “Please, you couldn’t handle it,” and returned the motion, surprising him with the unexpected reciprocation.

“I do love a challenge. But tell me something, love,” he said, his hand traveling down towards her waistband, passing over the zipper and slipping between her thighs as his lips hovered over her neck and his hot breath seared her flesh, “can you handle staying quiet?” He lifted her leg and draped it over his own, giving himself the space to cup her through her jeans. “Everyone else is still asleep, and in any case it’s still too dark to journey on.” He placed a kiss just below her ear and continued, his voice a low growl just above a whisper, “Just say the word, I can help you ease your mind for a while.” The corner of his lips twitched upward as he teasingly flexed his fingers against her and added, “And the ache you might be feeling, if that moan were any indication.”

Emma silently cursed herself for letting that sound escape from her lips, and once more for what she knew she was about to give in to so quickly. He was right, she could use a distraction from her racing mind now that she was more awake again, and he was a damn tempting one. Her breath hitched when he caught her earlobe between his teeth and tugged, eliciting another soft moan from deep within her, and her decision was made.

“Yes.”

“Yes what, love?” he asked, nosing down her neck until his mouth latched onto the space between it and her shoulder, nipping and sucking her flesh and laving over it with his tongue.

“Yes, I can stay quiet.” Her hand reached up to find purchase in his hair, encouraging him to continue his claim of her collarbone. “Yes, I want you to ease my… well, everything.” He chuckled at that, the vibration of his laughter against her skin sending a chill down her spine.

“As you wish.” Hook wasted no time popping the button on Emma’s jeans, pulling down the zipper, and slipping his hand beneath the denim. “Oh?” He said, his eyebrow raised in wonder at the soft, thin material covering his goal. He rubbed his fingers over it, feeling her arousal soaking through it as he teased her. “You certainly do.” Hook pushed her panties aside and sank two fingers inside her.

“Ohh fuck,” Emma choked back another moan, the sinful sounds as he plunged them into her dripping core again and again filling the air instead. His rings bit into her skin with every thrust, the cool metal a jarring, yet welcome counter to the hot friction they were creating. She rocked her hips to meet him each time, and his breathing grew ragged as he rutted himself against the curve of her ass in synchrony. As Emma’s movements grew frantic, Hook’s slowed to a stop, and Emma groaned in protest when he removed his fingers from inside her, dragging them through her folds to brush her clit for just a moment.

“Not yet, Swan.” Hook carefully slipped his arm out from beneath her head and gently turned her towards himself so that she lay on her back. Getting to his knees and stripping off his duster, he knelt between her spread legs. “I’m a fan of every part of you, and I intend to show you just how much of a fan I am.” 

He slipped his hooked arm beneath her tank only to find his access to her breasts blocked by another bit of material. Lifting the top to reveal the offending garment, he looped his prosthetic beneath it, the tip of the hook scraping against her skin as he did, and tugged. He noted that the small scrap of fabric differed from the corsets he was used to removing from women he’d bedded in the past but assumed it would be no less easy to snap than the laces he’d encountered on them.

“Hey!” Emma caught his wrist before he could succeed in his efforts. “I need this! Let me just….” She sat up for a moment to take off her tank top and undo the clasps at her back so she could toss her bra aside. “There.”

“Apologies, love,” Hook said, “and thank you.” He guided her back down with his hand just beneath her now exposed breast, thumbing at her tightening nipple as his mouth tended to the other. “Bloody magnificent, these are,” he mumbled against her as he teased them to stiff peaks. Emma tried to relax as the throbbing between her legs became almost unbearable and she longed for more friction to soothe it.

When he was at last satisfied, Hook released her nipple from his mouth with a resounding pop, flicked it a few times with the curve of his hook for good measure, and gave the same treatment to the other, relishing the way she squirmed beneath him as he nibbled and sucked and kneaded.

Emma gasped when the cold air rushed over her wet skin as Hook finished with her breasts and slid his body lower between her legs, trailing sloppy kisses down her abdomen along the way until he reached the top of her jeans.

Glancing up at her, he kept his eyes on hers as he gently tucked his fingers and hook just under the edge of her waistband.

“May I?” he asked, waiting for her approval to proceed.

“Yes,” she answered, “god, yes.” He grinned at that and very slowly tugged her jeans down her legs, distracted by the view of the place where his hand had been, covered only by the thin strip of fabric that had grown damp beneath his touch, pausing for a moment to slip off her boots when he reached them before removing the denim completely.

“You,” Hook said as he took in the sight of her almost completely naked form, “are absolutely stunning, Swan.” He scanned her body a moment longer, watching the blush spread over her cheeks and across her chest as she flushed pink under his desirous scrutiny. He nosed along the creases of her thighs and up the material that hid his goal before taking the top hem between his teeth, pulling it down until it hung from his mouth and letting it fall beside her on the blanket beneath them.

Fuck, that was hot, Emma thought to herself as she watched him lower his head and raise his hungry gaze to hers. The smirk on his face made her wonder for a moment if she had actually said it out loud.

Any concern she had about her comment was swept away as he gently flattened his tongue against her slick flesh, never breaking eye contact as he slowly licked an inquisitive stripe along her folds, dipping it between them just enough to pass over her clit before departing. The shiver that passed through her whole body at the contact was enough to make him do it twice more before diving in as deep as he could and mapping her inner walls with his tongue. He mumbled soft praises as he worked her—“Delicious…. Exquisite…. Divine….”—without ever fully pulling away to say them, too lost in the taste of her, as if he couldn’t get enough and didn’t want to lose even a drop of her essence. Soon he found the spot that made her hips buck and her thighs pull together, pressing against the sides of his head, and he reintroduced his fingers inside her as he licked at the spot relentlessly, knowing she grew ever closer to her release.

His scruff raked against her skin as her legs locked around him, her heels digging into his back, and she knew the raw streaks of raised red would burn later as they continued through Neverland on foot. But with the way he was making her feel in that moment, she figured it would be worth it.

The shaking overtook her suddenly and her back arched as he gave a particularly strong suck on her clit, and she came as he continued to fuck her with his hand and mouth. He reached up to silence her by pressing the curve of his hook to her lips as an overwhelmed cry caught in her throat. Taking the prosthetic into her mouth, she gently bit down on it and laved over it with her tongue to distract herself from the way he tended to her dripping core in kind. He lapped at her entrance until her waves of pleasure receded and she relaxed against the blanket, their chests heaving in an attempt to catch their breaths. He crawled over her body, hovering above her looking absolutely wrecked before he’d even been touched, his chin glistening with her release and his eyes blown wide with insatiable desire.

Their mouths crashed together and he laced his fingers through her golden locks while her hands anchored in the hair at the nape of his neck. She tasted herself on him as she traced his lips with her tongue and opened hers in invitation for his further exploration.

“You, my wanton lass, are far from quiet.” Hook attacked Emma’s lips with his own, her false rebuttal lost before it could be voiced as his tongue dipped between them and pulled her bottom lip between his teeth upon its retreat.

Emma hadn’t seen him reach for the panties he’d discarded next to her earlier until he pulled away and sat back on his haunches as he replaced his tongue with the wet scrap of material.

“Any other time, I’d love nothing more than to hear how I make you feel, but given the circumstances…,” he trailed off with a glance in the direction of their slumbering company not too far away, before returning his gaze to Emma with a smirk. “Luckily, there are ways to assist you.” He leaned over her once more to whisper in her ear, “Perhaps another time we can meet on my ship, sail far from the shore, just the two of us, and I’ll make you produce all manner of sounds for only me to hear. Hm?”

If he were expecting an answer, Emma couldn’t give him one. She told herself this was a one-time thing, just a way to blow off some steam and clear her head before the next long stretch of their journey through this land of mysterious horrors she wished she’d never have had to encounter like this. She wished Neverland could have stayed a story, though she wouldn’t admit out loud that she did prefer this real version of the fearsome Captain Hook.

Well, that and she now had a mouthful of cotton.

Emma watched as he unlaced his trousers, and she found herself unable to look away when he took himself in hand and passed the tip of his cock along her folds, aligning himself with her entrance before he stopped.

“Swan?” Hook said, bringing her out of her distracted stupor and calling her attention to his searching eyes, all of his bravado gone and replaced with a serious, patient tone. “Emma, are you sure?”

She hadn’t expected him to ask again, and that consideration for her wishes she hadn’t often encountered, paired with his rare use of her first name, only increased her desire to say yes. Unable to actually speak it, she held his gaze, hoping hers looked just as soft, and gently brushed her fingers down his cheek before she trailed them down his arms and gripped his hips with an encouraging nod.

Emma bit down hard on her makeshift gag and her head lolled back as he slowly sheathed himself inside her, the stretch burning in the best way with every inch as her body responded to his entrance with slick heat until he was fully seated within her. The feel of her around him took his breath away, and Hook braced himself on his elbows at either side of her as his head fell forward next to hers and he panted over her shoulder.

“Gods, you’re fucking perfect,” Hook whispered in her ear through gritted teeth. He finally began to move, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he pulled back and slid home again and again. She pivoted her hips to meet him with each thrust, feeling a euphoric fullness every time she took him in deep that left her softly whimpering in protest upon his retreats.

It was too much and not enough and just right all at once. Emma’s hands slipped beneath Hook’s shirt and she raked her nails up and down his back before digging them into his flesh as she scrabbled for purchase to steady herself beneath him, and to draw him ever closer to her.

Her mouth grew dry as the material between her teeth absorbed what little moisture wasn’t being expelled from her body in arousal and sweat. She wanted to kiss him, but even if she could, his mouth was otherwise engaged, sucking a mark into the side of her neck before tonguing at the hollow of her throat on its way to brand her collarbone. She couldn’t be bothered to care if anyone would see the evidence of his claim, not while he was giving her nothing but pleasure as his hips snapped with purpose.

“Come for me, Emma.” Hook’s fingers returned to her clit to circle and tease it as they both neared their releases. “Let me feel you come on my cock.” He groaned louder than he meant to when her hands cupped his ass through his trousers. “I won’t last much longer, love.”

He almost lost it when she gripped him tighter and nodded with a downward glance before meeting and holding his gaze.

“Fuck, Emma,” he breathed, a lightheadedness overtaking him as everything inside him tensed and he slammed into her with abandon. Looping his hook under the edge of her panties that peeked out from between her lips, he tugged the material to remove it without wasting time to toss it aside, letting it drape over his prosthetic as he filled her mouth with his tongue instead in a hot slide.

“Killian,” she moaned in a whisper against his eager lips, finally able to speak to some extent as he ravished both her mouth and her aching core.

“What?” He said in breathless surprise, unsure of whether he’d heard her correctly or imagined it with his own pulse pounding in his head, his hungry and frantic eyes flitting from side to side as they searched hers. A soft smile spread across his face. That was the first word she’d spoken, not even his more colorful moniker she’d been accustomed to using, but—

“Killian,” she called him by his name again, feeling that same dizzy high he felt as she rocked forward into him. “Yes. Yes.”

Something inside him snapped, and he muffled his pleasured cries against her lips as he poured himself inside her, relentlessly thumbing at her clit to bring her to release. A rush of heat spread through her body as his cock pulsed inside her, and her walls fluttered around him as she rose and fell with him.

He pulled back for a moment and caught the thick whitish fluid that dripped from her core with the tip of his cock before pushing it deeper inside her with a desperate grunt until they both finally slowed their movements to a stop.

“That was—” Hook, the man full of innuendos, fell speechless as he carefully held himself above her, propped up on his elbows, and let his forehead drop to hers as he panted with hot breath over her lips.

A one-time thing, Emma wanted so badly to say, but she had trouble even believing herself then. The way he made her feel, the way she knew he felt, the way they felt together. None of it felt like a one-time thing. She knew what those were, but this right here with him, this could be so much more. And it both thrilled and terrified her.

“I know,” she said instead, trying desperately to process everything that had just happened, and everything she might have wished would happen in the future, if they’d have a future at all. Would they?

She subtly shook her head in an attempt to clear it and pulled him to her for another kiss before she lifted her panties off his hook and pressed her other hand to his chest where it was exposed by the low neckline of his shirt and vest, following his body with hers as she guided him back so she could sit upright. Flattening the material over her palm, she passed it between her folds and stared into the depths of his ocean blue eyes as she rubbed the damp cotton over his wet cock, making his jaw drop as his breath hitched in his throat.

“We can’t leave a mess, now can we?” Emma smirked. Pumping him with her covered hand, she took his cock into her mouth, and he hissed when she passed her tongue over the tip and groaned around him at the taste as it leaked a bit more of his release.

“Gods, Emma,” Hook stuttered as he leaned back on his hand for support before he stilled her by catching her wrist with his hook, and she released him with a soft pop and a mischievous smirk as she looked up at him. “Keep doing that, love, and there’s going to be a much more obvious tell.”

“Fine,” she conceded with a sigh, getting to her feet and slipping on her wrecked panties with a taunting wiggle of her hips as she pulled them up under the weight of his entranced gaze until he realized he’d been staring and cast his eyes toward the ground. She’d probably feel it later, the sweltering heat of the Neverland sun bound to leave her feeling stickier than its induced sweat already would, but knowing he’d know that his effects on her would be keeping her wet long after they’d finished their more enjoyable activities… well, her own potential discomfort would be a cross she’d be willing to bear without regret.

She continued to get dressed, and he gave her the decency of turning his back to her as she did and as he righted himself as well, an admittedly unnecessary gesture after the rather indecent act they’d just committed together, but oddly endearing nonetheless.

“Here, love,” Hook picked up his duster and held it open in offering for her to wear, but she waved him off with a smile.

“I’m okay now, thanks. It suits you better anyway. And besides,” Emma winked at him, “I think I prefer sharing it.”

Hook swirled it around himself with a dramatic flair to put it on, tucked his hand and hook in the pockets, and reached out to enwrap Emma in the heavy leather with him, eliciting a giggle as he held her close.

She certainly wasn’t cold anymore.

[tooruluv]

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 4 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,320

warnings/notes: i’m posting this early because i’m so busy this weekend! hope you enjoy!

tag list: @afuckingunicornn​ @maii-flowers​ @clandestinerays​ @brownandchill​ @readeretal​

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You wanted to hate Sana. You wanted to resent her, wanted her to be a bitch. But she wasn’t. She was beautiful, and kind, and she just wanted to date Tooru Oikawa. Who were you to blame her for that?

“What is your skincare routine?” Sana asked. She pulled you closer, eyeing you as if she could see into your soul. “You have to tell me what you do with your skin.”

“Only if you tell me what hair products you use.” You told her before thinking. Sana also happened to be very easy to talk to.

She turned to Oikawa, smiling with her hand wrapped around yours. “I’ll see you later, babe, but right now I’m going to get some incredible insight. I might steal her from you.”

Oikawa just stood there. You had never seen him more confused in your entire life. He looked out of place. Like he wasn’t expecting things to happen the way they were. “Go for it.” He said. Stoic.

Sana basically dragged you away, arm in arm. She was taller than you, so you had to put in effort to keep up (something you happened to be very good, all your friends were giants). The two of you spoke nonsense about skin and hair and some other things you couldn’t remember.

“You know, I was scared to meet you.” She told you as you stopped in front of her locker. You gaped. “I know, I know. I just didn’t want you to blame Tooru for not telling you about us. I asked him not to.”

“Can I ask why?”

She giggled. It was soft. “I wanted you to like me.” She pulled out a book and shoved it into her bag. “I needed the soulmate stamp of approval.”

“..Soulmate?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sana turned to you. Her hair flipped over her shoulder as she did, her bangs never leaving the perfect place across her forehead. “You guys are literally inseparable. You and Tooru. A lot of us joke about how the universe put you guys together, platonic soulmates.”

Platonic soulmates, she said.

“I couldn’t possibly let myself be with him if you didn’t like me.” Sana continued, not really gauging how you were responding. “That’s why he hasn’t really talked to you. I’m so sorry for that, I shouldn’t have told him to keep his distance.”

“I guess I just thought he was mad at me.” You told her. Again without thinking. “We’ve never gone this long without talking, ever. And he was…” you paused. “He asked me for his jersey back and I didn’t really..”

“He asked you for his jersey back?” Sana slammed her locker shut. “I swear I’m going to kill him.”

She mumbled something about how he doesn’t listen. You stood beside her, hands at your sides.

“I literally told him not to do that.” She told you. “He offered me the jersey, and I told him that it was not my place as his girlfriend of a god damn week to take a jersey you’ve worn for years. He’s an idiot. Keep it, I’m serious.”

You didn’t know what to say.

You wanted to hate her, you really did. You tried to find a flaw, something to stick to, but nothing came up. God how you wanted her to be a bitch.

“You don’t hang out with girls often, do you?” She asked. You were walking to class now, her arm linked with yours as her bag hung over her other shoulder.

“I only hang out with ‘Kawa and the boys.” You shrugged.

“Well consider me your official girl best friend. Starting now.” Sana stopped, gasping as though she came to a sudden realization. “Oh my god! We should go to the mall together this weekend!”

You shifted your backpack on your shoulders. “I.. I don’t think..”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be super fun.” She continued, her face lighting up. “We can even have a sleepover after! Please!”

“I’ll have to talk to my parents… I..” You gave up trying to make her the Bad Guy. “Yeah. That sounds fun. We can stay at mine, if you don’t care.”

Sana sent you the brightest smile. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Your arms were unlinked, you heading down a different hallway to your class. “Oh, and Sana?”

“Yes?”

“You have the soulmate stamp of approval.” You turned around before you could see her response.

“You’re not mad at him?” Iwaizumi asked you. “How are you not livid right now?”

“I am mad.” You twisted a pencil in your hand. “But I’m more mad at him for completely ignoring me than having a girlfriend.”

“If I were you I would beat the shit out of him.” Matsukawa spoke up from beside you. He gasped. “Oh my god, I can beat his ass for you. Do you want me to?”

You chuckled. “I’m flattered, but no. Not worth your time or energy.”

The three of you were in the library during lunch, again. You know you should go back to the cafeteria, find a new spot at the lunch table (your previous spot next to Oikawa, in between him and Iwa at the circle tables). But the three of you liked to have a break and just hang out and talk shit at lunch. It became a thing between you and Iwaizumi, but you were happy to have Matsukawa join.

“Speaking of me being pissed off,” you changed the topic. “I’m pissed off that I’m the only one who knows about you two? Um, hello? When will you guys just say you’re dating and get it over with?”

“Hanamaki knows, though his suspicions are unconfirmed.” Matsukawa said.

They were official, you knew. The two of them never told you “hey we’re dating!” or anything like that, but you knew. The same way Iwaizumi knew you were (are) in love with Oikawa. And, it doesn’t held that both of them call each other nicknames and have each other as “bf” with about three trillion hearts in their phones.

“We’re going to wait.” Iwaizumi said. He wasn’t uncomfortable. “I have to tell my parents first. Then we can tell everyone.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Iwa I didn’t even think…”

“Seriously, don’t apologize.” He smiled at you. “You just want us to be happy. And right now, we are with what we have.”

Matsu put his arm around your shoulder from beside you. You were happy for them, too. Though the same couldn’t be said the same about your love life.

Tooru Oikawa invented a game when the two of you were kids. It was a stupid game, and you were pretty sure it was just a game he found while playing with other kids, but it was so fun to you.

You would invite kids over, including Iwaizumi, and would play it all the time in your backyard. The game was simple. Someone was the Catcher, and whoever was Catcher had to stand with their back to the players as the players stood against your house. The Catcher would then shout out a color, and if a player was wearing that color, they would have to run to Oikawa’s house (and touch it) before the Catcher caught them. Oikawa called it “Rainbow”.

One day while playing, Oikawa caught you while you were sprinting. He snatched you by the waist and basically bear hugged you. Everyone was a giggling mess, as kids are.

“Got you!” Kid Oikawa exclaimed. “Got you, got you! You’re it!”

Sometimes, you wished you had the ability to see when you grew up.

Sana ended up becoming a pretty decent acquaintance, despite only knowing her for a day. She was very nice, and extremely fun to talk to. Sana just wanted a girl friend; and after talking to her, maybe that’s what you wanted too.

You were walking in the hallway with her, arms linked as Sana preferred, talking nonsense about classes and the game that night. It was the beginning of the day, so the halls were filled with people who weren’t in class still.

“Are we still on for tonight and tomorrow?” she asked you.

“Yeah. If you’re cool with staying at my house, I think my parents were excited to hear me bring a friend whos a girl over.” You said.

“Oh my god, yes. That sounds perfect!” She nudged you with her arm.

“Okay.” You thought for a second. “If you like to drink, we can get some bottles or wine coolers or something before going home. I know a place.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

You stopped in front of your class and she unlinked your arms. “I’m not kidding when I tell you that I’m excited. I’ve told you before that I was nervous about meeting you when I started dating Tooru, but you’re so cool. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me?” you laughed. “For what?”

“For being the coolest friend to Oikawa.” A bell. “I got to go to class, if I get another tardy my parents will have my head. But I’ll see you at the game! Wear the jersey!”

She sent you a wink before heading to class.

“Thank you!” you called, and she turned around. “For being the coolest girlfriend to Oikawa.”

After school, Iwaizumi came over. They had a bit of time before the game, so most of the guys like to come home to eat a little bit or hype themselves up.

Like most days, you were sprawled out on your floor as he sat up against some random object in your room. That day, it was your dresser. He was exhausted, and you could tell.

“Iwa, can we be serious for a minute?” you asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” he said, and you sat up. “You’re in love with him. You’ve been in love with him for years. How did you know?”

Your eyes flickered between his. “What do you mean? I thought you already asked this before.”

“No, no.” he was nervous to ask you. “No, how did you know that you were in love with him? Like what does that feel like?”

You couldn’t hold back a gasp and a smile. “Oh my God! Hajime Iwaizumi, you’re in love!”

“No..”

“Yes you are!”

The teasing went on like that for a while. It went on and on, the both of you giggling and bickering about teenage love. You didn’t remember exactly how it ended up like this, your head resting on his lap and Iwaizumi’s hand in your hair. You felt your friendship with him, in that moment.

“I think I am, in love with Matsu I mean.”

“I think you are too.” You spoke. “I see the way you two are with each other. The glances and feeling. He definitely loves you too.”

“We’ve been together way longer than when you found us in the closet.”

“I know.”

“Are you still in love with him?’

A pause. “Yeah.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“’Kawa may be the stupidest person I know.”

“…but..?”

“No but. He’s just the stupidest person I know.”

A chorus of laughter. You didn’t even hear yourself, didn’t hear Iwa. You missed this.

You also didn’t hear Oikawa come in, and didn’t notice him standing at your doorway.

“Right.” Oikawa said, bringing a silence to the room. He just turned and left.

You stared at the now-empty doorway. You didn’t remember when you sat up.

“Go.” Iwaizumi pushed you at your waist. “Go get him.”

Without thinking, you rushed out of your room and down the stairs. You finally caught up to him outside, in the middle of your houses.

“Are you ever going to talk to me?” You called. You were angry, upset.

Oikawa’s back was toward you. He wasn’t walking, but you didn’t get any closer. It was like talking to a fucking brick wall.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He said simply.

“We almost kissed, ‘Kawa.” You said. Your hands were in fists at your sides, shaking. “We almost kissed. And you haven’t talked to me, haven’t even looked at me since. You don’t get to be mad at me. You don’t get to be mad I’m hanging out with Iwa when you haven’t talked to him either. And you can’t hide behind Sana asking you to not tell me about you two, not anymore. Please just talk to me.”

“Like I said.” He still had his back toward you. “Nothing to talk about.”

With that, he walked back to his house. You stayed on the sidewalk until you felt Iwaizumi pull you back to reality.

You were pretty sure that anger took over every emotion that night. As you sat at the game, in that stupid fucking jersey you put on as routine, you stared daggers at the floor from the bleachers. You weren’t even in the student section.

You were slouched in the bleacher, arms crossed, when you felt a body sit next to you.

“You seem far too pissed off to be watching a volleyball game.” The boy told you. “A game you’re winning.”

You stole a glance, not leaving your slouched position between the bleachers. He was cute, dark hair and definitely tall (though it could just be because you were sitting). He wasn’t even looking at you, so you turned your eyes back to the court.

He offered you an already open bag of chips, holding them in front of you.

“You don’t go here.” You ignored his offering.

“You’re not wrong.” He looked at you. “I’m here from another school. Trying to see what some friends of mine are up against.” You finally looked up at him. “What’s your name?”

You deadpanned. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

“Second the best, first the worst. I win.” You said. “What’s your name?”

The boy set his bag of chips down and held out his hand. “I’m Kuroo, Tetsurou Kuroo.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 9 - Part One

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

I’m focusing on Gavin and MC, not the plot (because the latter requires extensive time and effort that I can’t spare :’>). So I won’t be explaining certain plot points as I’m unsure of them myself

Do read Ch 2 before proceeding! Otherwise you’ll be completely lost from the very beginning:

MC is in her office looking out for trending topics in the news, and she starts thinking about what Grey Rhino does:

At present, Gray Rhino is one of the most active anti-Evol groups. Its members are found all over the world, and consist of tens of thousands of people. 

Most of the members are normal civilians or Evol victims, and are extremely against the existence of Evol. Every member seems to have a snake-shaped tattoo on their body.

From what I understand, they have a hand in the “Small Syringes”, the missing plane and the train incident from not too long ago.

One of her subordinates from Black Swan, Zehn, gives her a call

She’s tasked him to take note of Gray Rhino’s operations, because she thinks they’re going to act again

But he brings her news of STF instead: Apparently, STF has a new commander, but he’s a mystery since he hasn’t made a public appearance

MC: Maybe he’s a shrewd old man.

MC sighs and decides that she needs to investigate into the commander of STF

At this moment, impatient knocks are at the door. Even before I make a sound, Minor has already pushed the door open, rushing to me with extreme anxiousness.

I frantically hang up, turning my head and glowering at Minor.

MC: Why did you barge into my office?

Minor creases his brows, gesturing at the phone in his hand, mouthing some words to me. 

Minor: It’s-- Bro-- Gavin-- 

MC: Gavin? 

The words subconsciously leave my lips, and my tone is slightly surprised.

MC: Why did Gavin give you a call to look for me?

A voice drifts from the phone in Minor’s hand.

Gavin: Because your phone line was busy.

I was just having a discussion with my subordinate from Black Swan on how to fish for information regarding the commander of STF...

Feeling a little guilty, I hurriedly take the phone.

MC: Looking for me so urgently - is something wrong?

For a while, there’s silence at the other end of the line.

I wait quietly for Gavin to speak. After a moment, his voice returns.

Gavin: MC, has... anything happened to you lately?

This question is very abrupt, and I find it slightly odd. Thinking that Gavin is asking about the “Small Syringes” incident, I respond.

MC: Nothing’s wrong. I occasionally get strange harassment calls... but the rumours of the company being involved in prohibited drugs are slowly clearing up. As of now, work has returned to normal. Come to think of it, Captain Gavin deserves much thanks for helping me clear up the rumours.

I laugh, adding that last line.

After a soft “oh”, Gavin doesn’t continue.

The silence in the air spreads to both ends of the line. Minor, being incredibly tactful, leaves the room. Before closing the door, he mouths a “Boss, all the best”.

I think of the earlier information received. After hesitating for a moment, I test the waters with a question.

MC: Gavin, it’s been a while since we were in contact. How have you been?

Gavin: I was executing a mission.

Gavin’s breathing is very soft, drifting through the phone and into the receiver.

I can even imagine how he looks, pinching his phone with slight force, his right hand subconsciously tapping lightly on the desk.

The gloomy weather is filled with large, dark clouds. The first rainfall of winter, which has been brewing for a very long time, finally starts pattering down.

The synchronised rustling of rain can be heard over the phone. I lift my head to look out the window, and speak to Gavin softly.

MC: It’s raining. 

Gavin: Mm.

The thick sound of rain mucks up a memory, and I continue, thinking aloud.

MC: Rainfall in winter is the coldest... When you’re on missions these days, take note of the weather. When you head out, check the weather forecast, remember to bring an umbrella, and don’t catch a cold.

Gavin once again makes a sound of acknowledgement.

Gavin: Got it.

Another wave of silence hangs on the other end of the line. Just as I hesitate on whether to say goodbye, Gavin suddenly speaks.

Gavin: MC, I need your help with something.

-

Holding the STF-issued provisional visitor pass, a special officer leads me to the reception room.

Collaborative filming between the STF and [MC’s Company Name] has been shelved temporarily due to the gradually increasing amount of work. Other than the “Small Syringes” incident, it’s been a very long time since I came to the STF.

Special Officer: Miss MC, this is the place.

When the door is pushed open, a familiar voice drifts from inside.

Tang Chao: Yo, it’s you again. If you visit a few more times, I’ll be familiar with you. Your name’s MC, right?

Eli: Is that how you should speak to a lady?

Tang Chao: I’m just establishing good relations early. We’ll probably have many chances to meet in the future.

Aside from Eli whom I’m familiar with, I recognise the youth who doesn’t have a filter over his mouth. He’s Tang Chao, Gavin’s colleague, and the one who pretended to interrogate me the last time.

MC: Special Officer Tang, it’s been a long time.

Gavin: Tang Chao! Who allowed you to be here?

With a “bang”, the door is pushed open with force. Gavin strides into the room with a dark expression, placing files on the table with a thud.

It’s been a long time since I've seen Gavin, and I can’t help but take several looks at him.

Gavin is wearing everyday clothes, and in his deep eyes are the coolness and resoluteness that I'm familiar with.

My gaze remains unmoving, and I vaguely spot a white bandage near his sleeve.

MC: Gavin, are you injured?

Gavin: No.

Tang Chao: He’s lying. 

Gavin: ...

MC: ...

Tang Chao grabs the files on the table, whipping his head around to greet him before running out into the corridor swiftly. 

Eli: I can’t help much by staying here. The two of you can talk.

The reception room, which was in a state of chaos earlier, suddenly sinks into quietness.

I remain standing in place, somewhat at a loss. Gavin, feeling uneasy, turns his head to the side, releasing a soft cough.

Gavin: They talk too much. Let’s go straight to the main topic. 

Gavin plays down on the topic of his injuries, but I know that even if I were to ask, he would only keep it hidden. 

I sigh inwardly.

MC: You haven't told me what you needed my help with.

Gavin: We met a witness who has special circumstances, and we need your Evol to read his memories.

MC: Special circumstances? Is his memory impaired? Or did he lose part of his memory from fright?

Gavin shakes his head, and only signals that I should follow him.

In the interrogation room, Gavin briefly explains the situation: the incident happened at a station, and the victim died from a bullet

The witness is an elderly man who is blind

I tug on Gavin’s sleeve, and can’t help but voice the doubts in my heart.

MC: Gavin, since this witness is a blind man, how am I supposed to read his memories?

Gavin: Memories aren’t just images. Sounds, scents, and even touch are parts of memories.

MC: I think I understand what you mean. If footsteps are heard, it could confirm the time when the suspect appeared. If a unique scent is stored in the memory, it could also be a lead to cracking the case.

Gavin nods lightly. 

Gavin: That’s why I requested for you to come.

He tells her not to be stressed about it

Unfortunately, MC doesn’t get anything out of reading the witness’ memories

MC: I’m sorry, I don’t have much of a clue.

Gavin nods lightly, and doesn’t say anything. This causes me to feel a little embarrassed. 

Even though the case has nothing to do with me, I couldn’t be of any help to him.

Thinking about how he’s been handling Evol cases which come one after another, he must be facing an incredible amount of stress.

-

Walking out the doors of the interrogation room, Tang Chao happens to pass by.

Tang Chao: You’re going off just like that?

Gavin: ...

Tang Chao: Let’s head to the canteen for a meal. There are chicken drumsticks today.

Gavin blatantly ignores Tang Chao, who had extended an enthusiastic invitation. He turns towards me.

Gavin: I'll send you home. Don’t worry about today’s matter.

Seeing him like this, he’s probably planning to focus wholeheartedly on investigating and not intend to have a proper meal...

Sighing inwardly, I pat my hands and make a wilful decision.

MC: Gavin, you haven’t given me my remuneration. How about this. I’ll treat you to a meal, then you can conveniently send me home.

Gavin: No thanks.

MC: ...

Seeing the awkward expression on my face from being rejected, Gavin seems to be in a great mood, and the corners of his lips lift a tiny bit.

Gavin: I’ll send you home, and conveniently accompany you to a meal.

MC: ...eh?

Gavin: Why are you in a daze? Let’s go.

-

By the time we walk out of STF, the rain has already stopped. It isn’t time to eat yet, and neither of us are very hungry. We simply head to a nearby snack street to find something random to eat.

The road is flanked on both sides with various snack shops, numerous coloured billboards tightly packed together. In this late afternoon drawing close to evening, business is bustling, and people are walking to and fro.

It is the season where autumn ends and winter begins, and the fragrance of roasted chestnuts is in the air. My mind still ponders on the case from earlier.

MC: Gavin, aren’t there any other witnesses in that case?

Gavin: The crime occurred when the station was most desolate. There weren’t other commuters on the platform. 

MC: Since the location of the crime is in a place like the station, aren’t there any surveillance cameras nearby?

Gavin: On the day of the incident, all the surveillance cameras nearby were broken.

While speaking, a large white cat holding a Dragon Li cat in its mouth leaps past us lithely, and Gavin slow down his footsteps. 

MC: Looks like it’s a premeditated crime.

I have no other ideas after this, and I decide to ask whatever I can think of.

MC: After the murderer committed the crime, what would have been the first thing he’d have done?

Gavin: Get rid of the murder weapon.

Gavin says this casually. Standing before the roasted chestnut stall, the smile on the boss’ face instantly freezes. 

I take the freshly prepared roasted chestnuts, hurriedly pulling Gavin away.

At this moment, I realise on hindsight that Gavin had silently footed the bill, and I had accepted it just like that.

Gavin turns his head and sees me rooted in my original spot. His eyes are caged in the tender glow of sunset.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: Gavin, is there anything you want to eat?

At first, he shakes his head. In the end, he seems to notice the downward tugging at the corners of my lips, and can only struggle in front of the oden noodle shop for a while.

Gavin: One serving of fishballs.

MC: Two servings. And add a serving of fish tofu, chicken wings, chikuwa... please add more chilli.

MC: You have to eat more.

While we’re eating and walking, a clear “bang” suddenly resounds from behind us.

With my mind filled with the shooting incident, I’m so scared that I shift half a step backwards.

Gavin: It’s a shooting game. 

Meeting Gavin’s teasing gaze, I laugh awkwardly, and an idea surfaces in my mind.

MC: I know! Let’s go and play that! Since we can’t escape from the topic of “shooting”, we might even get some inspiration from the game.

Gavin: ...that’s going a little far.

Despite what he says, Gavin still accompanies me, walking towards the stall. Seeing that there’s business, the owner immediately calls out to us in a lively manner.

I hold the gun, weigh it in my hand, and look at the target set up in front of me.

Gavin glances at me in surprise, and asks suddenly.

Gavin: You’ve learnt shooting?

MC: Mm, an incredible friend taught me.

Gavin: Which friend?

MC: ...the one who taught me self-defence. He’s very skilled, and is a very nice person too.

Gavin turns his head to the side, looking utterly disinterested, as though he doesn’t believe my big words.

After greeting the stall owner, I hold up the gun and adjust my posture. Settling on the target, I squint with my right eye, pulling the trigger confidently.

Bang--

Brimming with confidence, I look at the target, but realise that I’ve barely hit the 7th ring.

Gavin: Looks like his teaching wasn’t that great.

[Note] If you aren't familiar with Gavin’s dates: S1 Gavin taught MC how to shoot in his Rehearsal Date! So he’s basically insulting himself LOL

In a great mood, Gavin watches the faraway target. Unwilling to lose, I fire several bullets, but the results hover around the 6th and 7th rings.

MC: ...it’s been a long time since I practised, so I’m a little rusty.

After saying this, peals of laughter drift from behind me.

I turn my head, and see a high school couple playing the shooting game too.

Girl: Dear, your shooting skills are really good!

Boy: Dear, wait for me to get the biggest and cutest doll for you.

Once the girl hears the boy’s words, she laughs even more. 

A wave of melancholy strikes my heart. Just as I think of setting the gun down, I hear Gavin’s voice at my ear.

Gavin: You’re putting too much weight in front.

Suddenly, a familiar warmth presses against my back. Scorching breaths are at the roof of my head. He holds my hand, resting the butt of the rifle on my shoulder. 

MC: !

Gavin: Are you ready?

Gavin rests the first pad of his forefinger over mine, applying pressure on the trigger, not leaving a single gap.

I can feel the calluses as he covers the back of my hand with his, and the heart that’s about to leap out of my chest.

I don’t know if it’s the lingering warmth from sunset, or the temperature of Gavin’s body which is causing my face to feel heated.

Bang--!

The bullet slices through the air, hitting the centre of the target with precision.

Gavin: Do you remember the gist of the action?

I nod with force, the scorching warmth of our skin being pressed together causing the temperature of my face to rise.

Under Gavin’s close guidance, the subsequent eight shots all hit the bullseye.

His eyebrows arch upwards slightly, and he chuckles.

Gavin: Do you still want to try?

Seeing that Gavin is hitting the target with every shot, the stall owner seems to get a fright, and immediately waves his hands. 

Stall owner: I’m about to close the stall. You should pick a prize quickly.

Gavin: That one then.

Gavin points at the largest pink bunny plush on the counter. Then, he pauses, tossing me a questioning glance.

MC: Gavin, I want that prize.

I point at a golden coloured ginkgo keychain in the glass cabinet.

Stall owner: Miss, the one you chose is a third-rate prize. It’s of little value.

MC: It’s all right. I like it.

I hold up that ginkgo keychain, the fine leaf made of golden wire reflecting a dazzling light under the sun.

MC: It’d definitely look really nice on a bag!

I turn my head excitedly, and can’t help but flaunt it off to Gavin.

The autumn wind is somewhat gentle. The corners of Gavin’s lips are hooked upwards. His eyes, which are watching me, are flourishing with an amber light.

Gavin: Mm, looks really nice.

[Note] Screaming because it’s left ambiguous in Chinese on whether he’s referring to the ginkgo keychain... or her smile 👀

-

Right after walking out of the snack street, raindrops patter down.

MC: It’s raining again.

I retrieve my umbrella, and Gavin takes it from me naturally. The transparent umbrella is held steadily above my head.

Gavin: It’s getting late. I’ll send you home. Don’t worry about today’s matter. It has nothing to do with you.

Fine rain continuously slides off the umbrella. Gavin matches my pace, walking forward slowly.

Everything in the rain brings with it a certain hazy and humid quality, reminiscent of an image frequently featured in movies.

Gavin: Where’s your bracelet? Why aren’t you wearing it?

MC: The weather has been too damp these days. I was afraid wearing it out would affect its condition.

Gavin: ...oh.

I lift my head, and see a mother and daughter afar off, getting caught in the rain.

I exchange a glance with Gavin. We reach a tacit understanding, and he nods.

We walk over to the mother and daughter, and give the umbrella to them.

MC: This umbrella is for the both of you.

Mother: How could I take it!

With my persuasion, the mother and daughter finally accept this kindness, and repeatedly thank Gavin and I.

I take out an unimportant document from my bag and use it to cover my forehead. Just as I prepare to share a few sheets with Gavin, a shadow suddenly shrouds the top of my head.

--It’s Gavin’s jacket.

MC: No need. It’s just a little rain, it’d be fine.

Gavin: Didn't you say that rainfall in winter is the coldest?

Not allowing for any protests, Gavin holds the jacket over our heads, ensuring that I wouldn’t get caught in the rain.

Gavin: Let’s go. The journey isn’t long. I’ll send you home. Oh yes, don’t leave the house over the next few days. Especially at night.

His expression is incredibly serious, and even a little stern.

MC: Got it.

Gavin’s jacket covers my head. I breathe in, inhaling his unique scent.

But the jacket doesn’t seem to be large enough, and isn’t sufficient for two people to walk while standing side by side. After a moment of thinking, I stagger slightly, standing in front of Gavin. 

I lift my head, looking at Gavin’s clean lower jaw and amber coloured eyes.

MC: We’ll walk like this?

A touch of red surfaces on Gavin’s cheeks. He doesn’t lower his head to look at me. Shifting his gaze elsewhere, he feigns coldness in his voice.

Gavin: Mm.

The large jacket covers and carves out a small and narrow world. The sound of rain pattering on the jacket is slightly gloomy, blending with the scent of rain, and the delicate, faint fragrance in the air.

I take a deep breath, looking towards the street.

MC: Gavin, look. The wintersweet flowers are blooming.

[Trivia] In the language of flowers, the wintersweet symbolises independence, perseverance, fortitude, faithfulness, and a loving, noble heart :>

Behind me, Gavin halts in his steps, and peels open a corner of the jacket slightly.

I can’t see his gaze, and can only feel his drawn out breathing and the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

The yellow wintersweet flowers emit a subtle fragrance. In a manner which isn’t overly resplendent or bright, they add a warm lustre to this world.

Gavin: Mm, looks really nice.

His voice is clear and bright. In this indistinct, misty rain, it seems to indicate the direction that I should proceed towards.

In many moments, it’s always been the case.

The red light across the street seems to be exceptionally lengthy, and doesn’t change for a long time. 

The waiting time is a little long, and I can’t help but enter a slight trance. 

When I was fifteen years old, the rain was just like this.

Seventeen year old Gavin crossed the curtain of rain, and the school jacket he placed on me had carried the scent of an inexperienced youth.

That youthful scent which forever pauses on that rainy day has been breathed back to life in my memory, entwining with the scent of the man that is presently twirling around the tip of my nose.

Like a certain miraculous overlapping.

MC: The rain seems to be getting heavier.

The white shirt which has been caught in the rain is slightly soaked. I seem to see his slim back through the shirt, which has turned half-transparent from being drenched in the rain.

That clean and cool scent, just like the refreshing breeze coursing through this rain, descends on my heart.

The green man lights up, and the passers-by next to us walk across hurriedly. Perhaps this rain wouldn’t stop even after a while.

I summon my courage, and simply grab onto Gavin’s hand, pulling him into a run.

Across the streets, across the pelting rain, across the sea of memories, and walking into a junction belonging to us.

The rain pours even harder, creating flowers of water on the ground, as though urging me to hasten my footsteps.

Urging me to take his hand and walk forward quickly--

-

Part two: here

[swampofiniquity]

The Luckiest (Chris Redfield x Reader) Part 2

Part Two of Two

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2,893

Summary: Round two... and three? 

Warnings: sexual content, blowjob, unprotected sex, overstimulation

Read part one here

Cross-posted to AO3

The master bathroom was what originally made you fall in love with the new house. It was huge and open, the kind you used to fantasize about when you would bang your elbow on the tiled wall every time you took a shower at your old apartment. It was technically two rooms, one for the toilet and linen cupboard, and the other housing the large walk-in shower and over-sized bathtub, both of which were more than big enough to accommodate both you and Chris comfortably.

It had been the first thing that crossed your mind when the realtor showed you the room, and you had to excuse yourself for a moment until you could get the image of your then fiance fucking you up against the shower wall out of your head. 

Chris, of course, teased you relentlessly about it on the drive on home. Until you shut him by giving him a preview of your fantasy later that night. 

He insisted on making an offer on the house the next morning. 

Now, there you were, finally a married woman, standing topless in your mostly empty bedroom while you could hear the sounds of your husband showering in the exact location of that fantasy, and you were almost too excited to move. You took a deep breath and discarded your shorts and underwear, tossing them into the careless pile that Chris had left his own clothes. He called out for you when you opened the door and finally stepped inside the already steamy room. 

“I’m starting to feel a little lonely in here all by myself.” 

You laughed. “Poor baby, I’ll be right there.” You paused in front of the mirror for a second to take your hair down, noting that you did indeed get paint in it as well as various other places on your body. You were a complete mess, but your heart clenched as you realized Chris was so enamored with you that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

The boost of confidence put an extra sway to your hips as you walked to shower door and opened it. Chris’ eyes darkened when you climbed inside. 

“God, look at you, come here,” he beckoned, drawing you into his arms and under the warm spray of the shower head. You draped your arms around his neck, finding his skin slick with soap.

“Look at you,” you responded, moving your body against the impressive erection that now pressed against the softness of your belly. “Someone’s excited.”

"You kidding me? I've been hard since I came home to find you covered in paint and shaking your ass to that godawful music." Chris ran his hands down your back and took two handfuls of your ass, groaning as he kneaded your flesh. 

You scoffed, but it lacked any real ire. His hands on your body felt too good. "Excuse me, but Ace of Base is a treasure and I will fight you."

“Oh yeah, you think you can take me?” He waggled his eyebrows at you and flexed his chest muscles. You snorted.

“Mmmhmm, I fight dirty.” To punctuate your point, you leaned forward onto your toes and bit into the thick tendon on his neck. The hands on your ass tightened, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

“Shit - I know you do, baby.”

“Only for you,” you whispered against his wet skin. Assisted by the water, you wedged your hand between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his cock. His hips jerked forward as you moved your slippery hand up and down, applying just enough pressure to tease.

“Fuck.” He slumped forward, resting his head heavily on your shoulder. He was so tense you could practically feel his muscles vibrating. 

You pressed a soothing kiss against his neck. “Shhh it’s my turn to take care of you now.”

Abruptly, you sank to your knees and Chris groaned, his hands traveling up your body as you went down and settling in your messy hair. His cock jumped as you looked up at him through your lashes, his body shielding you from the brunt of the shower spray. 

“I tell you lately that I’m a lucky man?” He asked as he swept your hair back from your face to get a better look at you.

“You may have mentioned it.” You leaned forward and drew his tip ever so slightly inside your mouth. He swore under his breath and gripped your shoulders. 

“Fuck, I uh, I should um probably mention it again, just so it’s clear then. Goddammit,” he groaned through gritted teeth as you started to explore his shaft with your tongue. 

You felt a sudden, familiar rush at turning such a strong, powerful man into a babbling mess. Fighting a smile, you wrapped your lips over your teeth and took him in deep. His shout echoed against the tiled walls. 

Going down on Chris had always been akin to a religious experience to you. It was primal, sure, but beautiful too, the trust and vulnerability behind the action. He wasn’t a man to lose control easily, but when you were on your knees for him, he damn near always did. Shaking and swearing and clawing at you while you worked him in your mouth. At this point, you knew his body just as well as you knew your own, and nothing felt more natural than using that knowledge to make him come undone. 

“God, you’re so p-pretty down there, baby. M-makin’ me feel so good,” he moaned, using an unsteady hand to tangle in your hair and gently urge you to move faster. You obliged, humming around him and relaxing your throat to take him even deeper, your eyes watering from the effort. 

Chris was thick enough to make your jaw ache during longer sessions, but luckily for you, he was already on the edge. You brought your hand up to massage his balls while you gradually increased your speed, letting the fingers of your other hand dig into the firm flesh of his ass. 

“Fuck, baby, please ... I’m gonna come. Can I come in your pretty little mouth?” His deep voice sounded ruined, and it brought a whoosh of heat straight to your core.  

You nodded as best you could, and moaned in encouragement. Looking up at his face, you saw his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his neck and chest a beautiful shade of red. You wished you could capture this moment, while he dangled so deliciously on the precipice, so you could take it out on those lonely nights when his work called him away. He was perfect like this. 

Then, the fingers in your hair tightened, the sensation just skirting the edge of pain. You shifted your concentration back on his cock, focusing on the head now, increasing suction until Chris shouted your name and finally released in thick spurts on your tongue. You swallowed it easily with him still in your mouth, the motion making his entire body tremble. 

“I am the luckiest person alive,” Chris panted, as you carefully pulled away. He caught your chin and tilted your face so he could meet your eyes. “I love you.”

You beamed up at him. “I love you too.” 

He hummed in contentment. As he trailed his fingers aimlessly through your wet hair, you leaned forward and pressed a line of kisses from one of his hip bones across his belly to the other. He shuddered, his warm skin oversensitive. 

Laughing, you reached your arms up and Chris immediately got the hint, helping you up in one smooth motion. Once you were back on your feet, he brought you in for a kiss, sliding his tongue past your lips as you opened for him. 

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. 

You patted his scruffy cheek. “Mmhm you mentioned that already, babe.” 

“I think you may have sucked my brain out,” he groaned. 

You laughed, breaking away and side stepping him so you could better reach the shower spray. The hot water would likely be running out soon, and you still desperately needed to wash your hair. Instead of getting out and toweling off, Chris settled himself heavily down on the teak shower stool, his eyes never leaving your body. 

As you started to soak your hair, you asked him - “Expecting a show?”

Chris shook his head. “I just like watching you.”

It was intensely intimate, washing yourself while he watched. Something as routine and boring as lathering shampoo felt so much heavier when you could feel his eyes on your skin, tracking every movement. It was exhilarating. 

Unfortunately, the hot water cut out in the middle of rinsing the conditioner. Your skin broke out in goosebumps as the warm water gradually turned arctic. “Fuck,” you muttered, angling and contorting your body in an attempt to only have you hair under the spray. Your loving husband laughed at you. 

“Want me to see if I can turn the water heater back on?” he asked once he finished. 

“Nah, I got the paint out of my hair. I’ll take a more thorough shower tomorrow.” Finally managing to rinse completely, you turned off the shower. You were shivering as you turned back to face Chris. 

“Come here, let me warm you back up.” He patted his thighs, drawing your eyes towards his groin. He was hard again and the sight made your knees feel like overcooked noodles. 

“Already?” You asked, closing the short distance and sitting on his lap, letting your legs frame his hips. You took a hold of his cock with your cold hands and he hissed through his teeth. 

“Your fault,” he growled into your neck before sucking deeply on the sensitive skin there. He was sure to leave a bruise and the thought of meeting the contractors tomorrow with his mark on your neck thrilled you. 

Chris’ warm, strong arms encircled you, bringing you in against his chest, and the contrast against your own cool skin was heavenly. You moaned and your grip on his cock tightened as you worked him up and down, tilting your hips so you could rub his tip against your swollen clit. His entire body tensed beneath you. 

“God, that feels good, baby. I want to fuck you so bad.” He snaked a hand between you and brushed yours away, taking his cock and rubbing it against you himself. You gasped as he moved down from your clit and pressed in, just barely penetrating you. 

“Chris, please. ” You didn’t have much leverage from your position, your feet unable to reach the floor, but that didn’t matter. He seized your ass in both hands and moved you himself, picking you up and guiding you down onto his cock. You inhaled sharply as he filled you. 

“Fuck, I missed this, missed you. I’m never leaving again, from now on my only job is to fuck you.”  You knew it was just the moment talking, that Chris wasn’t really going to suddenly quit the BSAA, but the thought still warmed you. You loved that he dedicated his life to saving and protecting others, but the selfish part of you wanted nothing more than to keep him safe and by your side at all times. 

You gripped his arms, feeling the muscles contract and release as he continued to bounce you up and down. You were still sensitive from your intense orgasm on the couch and that, coupled with how ridiculously turned you were from giving him a blowjob and the rest of your shower, had you already on edge, almost embarrassingly fast. 

“Please, don’t stop,” you urged, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his shoulder. Chris responded by increasing his pace, lifting his hips to meet yours now, and forcing little gasps to leave your lips. 

“You gonna come for me? I can feel how tight you’re getting, baby. Fuck, you squeeze me so good,” he panted, turning his head to kiss your exposed neck. 

It only took a few more thrust before your second orgasm of the night hit you. You wailed and threw your head back, your body seizing and writhing in Chris’ grip as he continued to move and thrust up into you, prolonging the intense climax. It was too much. Too good. You were simultaneously fighting him to get away and trying to pull him impossibly closer, one hand flying to the back of his head to press his face to your chest and the other grappling with his fingers on your ass, desperate to get him to stop or slow. 

Chris refused, knowing your body well enough to know that if he kept it up and you submitted, he could get you to come again. So, he shushed you, trailed loving kisses across your chest and breasts, and held on tight as you thrashed, until finally you slumped forward against him with a whimper. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. I’ve got you, baby. Relax for me.” His voice was calm and soothing, and you latched onto it like a beacon in a storm while he used his body to overwhelm yours. You took a few huge, lungfuls of air and tried to focus on submitting to the insane pleasure instead of fighting it. Your entire being was trembling as something wild built inside you. 

“Think you can come for me again, beautiful? You feel too good, I don’t think I can last.” Chris’ arms were shaking now, but he somehow kept going, relentlessly pounding you on his cock. You could do little other than whine into his neck and try to keep a tenuous grip on your sanity. 

When the final orgasm hit you, you didn’t black out, though it felt close. Your vision tunneled and you were hyper aware of the sound of your own frenetic breath and the involuntary spasms in your muscles, but it was if they were happening to someone else. For a blissful moment, you were outside your body witnessing your own ecstasy, before the powerful wave finally crested and slammed you back. 

You screamed something, whether his name or a curse or some utter nonsense you had no idea. Distantly, you were aware of Chris answering, shouting your name as he stilled. His hands dropped you full on his lap, bringing his cock impossibly deep as he came hot and wet inside you. Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes. 

“Chris,” you sobbed, chest heaving. The physical release had triggered a mental one as well, and all that stress and worry that had been weighing you down while he was away left you in a rush. The relief was palpable. 

He brought two shaky hands up to your face and you felt him place a series of sweet, brief kisses to your face. After a long, gentle kiss against your lips, he spoke. “Look at me, baby.”

You hadn’t even been aware that you had closed them again, and you opened eyes to see your husband looking at you with so much love and adoration that it 

brought on another wave of tears. He laughed softly and wiped them away as they fell. “I take it you needed that as badly as I did?” 

You could only nod and bury your face against his chest. Chris wrapped his arms securely around you, groaning as you shifted slightly, his softening cock still warm inside you. Selfishly, you wanted to keep him there all night, but you knew that the contact would soon swing from oversensitive to painful for him, so you relaxed your inner muscles and let him slip himself out. 

Chris held you for a long moment, stroking your hair and whispering honey sweet words to you as you both calmed your heart rates. It wasn’t until you started shivering again, your skin and hair still wet, that he finally stirred, turning the shower back on to clean you both up before wrapping you up in a fuzzy, warm towel. 

Your legs were still wobbly, so you kept your arms locked around his neck while he dried you both off. “How long do I have you to myself this time?” you asked, enjoying the feeling of the soft towel against your tender skin. 

“Barring another incident, I am officially on leave for the rest of the month. Plenty of time for you to get sick of me, I’m sure.” With that, Chris ditched the towels on the floor and stooped, scoping you up and onto one shoulder. 

You squealed at the sudden shift in altitude. “What are you doing?!”

Chris playfully slapped your ass, walking into the sparsely furnished bedroom. “Taking my wife to bed.” 

You giggled as he tossed you gently onto the mattress. Even without the bed-frame, the memory foam cradled your body perfectly, magnifying your boneless exhaustion. With heavy eyes, you watched Chris turn off the lights and close the door, before joining you and drawing you into his arms. 

You hummed as he kissed you. “You’re wrong though.”

“About what?” he asked around a yawn. He was starting to doze almost immediately, no longer able to fight his dopamine-flooded brain and the warm security of having you snuggled, naked in his arms. 

“I’ll never get enough of you,” you’re able to respond as you both nod off together.

[dusterson]

rules & ooc (mobile)

this line it not to be edited as to maintain the integrity of the post’s URL. please inform the mun if any directories to this post do not work properly.

Mun is over the age of 21, muse is under the age of 18. Mature themes concerning violence, trauma, abuse, death, etc. will be present. Romance will not surpass mild PG-13.

THE RULE OF LAW

01 : DON’T BE A DICK.

godmoding metagaming etc. ain’t cool, ooc drama is even less cool, don’t reblog IC posts you’re not involved in, yadda yadda yadda, i’m crossing my fingers here that i won’t need to make an entire encyclopaedia of regulations here i have faith that you’re smarter and more mature than that.

i like anons throw em my way ic or ooc, but misuse the anon function and you lose the privilege of being a faceless horror-terror that gives Dustin nightmares.

i’m not going to say no drama because humans as a species are the biggest drama-mongers of the earthly organisms. but i will avoid engaging in it like the plague. i do not tolerate hateful and/or aggressive behaviour. i don’t care why, to who, or what about. calm. down. this is a fucking hobby.

02 : DON’T BE A PUSHY DICK.

the muse is not the mun, if my answer’s no then it’s no. if you pester/nag me after saying no, i’ll just block you. my post length will vary and no i don’t expect you to match or vise versa. i don’t really fancy up posts for rp replies that’s too much effort i’m here to write you know?

i am disabled physically, neurologically, and psychologically; that along with other IRL circumstances mean that i will be slow. i may need to take breaks from rping, not have the focus for this specific muse, and i might forget things. i don’t mind the occasional poke if you feel i’ve forgotten a thread or an ask etc, but please be patient with me.

do not get angry with me that i roleplay to my comfort. if i don’t meet your expectations i don’t want to hear it, just find another cove to sail.

03 : DON’T BE A GROSS DICK.

dustin is a minor in official canon and in my canon. i ain’t shipping him with anyone outside his age range, and i sure as fuck ain’t shipping right off the bat. i don’t know you, therefore i don’t trust you, to write that kinda dynamic with you. any romantic/affectionate content will be light PG-13 if not straight-up PG. if you try and sneak in suggestive or NSFW shit i will thanos snap your creative motivation. and block you.

i may unfollow blogs that have a highly frequent amount of such content on their blog.

DON’T LET ME BE A DICK!

any commonly triggering content will be tagged (example tw), such as gore, abuse, suicide, etc. but don’t be afraid or ashamed to request i tag something specific for you. i’m grouchy, not judgemental.

don’t hesitate to let me know if you’re losing interest in a thread, don’t know how to respond, or even that you’re no longer interested in rping. honestly if the third’s the case you don’t even need to explain, yeet to freedom my sweet bird good luck out there and for the love of god enjoy yourself and feel no shame for it.

THANK YOU FOR NOT BEING A DICK!

that’s why i’m saying the don’t part, cos i’m trusting you (kind of) not to be one, cos like you got this far so you can’t be one see? here’s some apple cider, thank you for coming on the tour, now let me introduce myself.

So now all THAT’s out of the way, ‘sup. You can call me Saahs or J. I’m a 28 year old artist, writer, and lover of horror. Any pronouns are fine with me. RP has been a major part of my life for 99.9% of it, I started playing AD&D before I could properly write, and I’m not letting this strain of hobby go any time soon. Like I said I probably won’t be a highly active rper due to chronic illness and IRL issues, but my messages, askbox, are always open! And I’m happy to give my Discord if you’d like to chat over there as well. The rules are a lil snippy I wrote em at 4 in the morning initially then it only got worse cos and I’m a jaded animal but legit I don’t assume You are gonna break rules or anything there’s just been too many times man. Like I’m a shy guy and I don’t like having to deal with conflict so don’t make me ok

[bangchanswolfpelt]

you are so fucking sick writing about incest, I used to like your blog but...im not even kink shaming, incest is immoral. I was actually shaking and crying. I have blocked all the incest tags. fuck you. you're a monster. do you even care how many people are traumatised by incest? I'm not, but I've never had healthy family dynamics. I would like to have siblings, it would be nice because then maybe I wouldnt be so lonely but I had to see this sick twisted shit. I hope you get help, its so horribly wrong to sexualise family. you are revolting. I hardly ever send hate anons but im sorry to you and myself, I had to break this rule because this infuriated me, I was in tears and I was scared. at least, thank you for tagging but whats better is if you didn't write it

i am not going to be using the word ‘triggered’ to describe your experience, because you did not use it which leads me to believe that you don’t consider that to be the appropriate descriptor for your experience. if you are prone to being this disturbed by content that you read, it is your responsibility before anyone else's to keep yourself safe—that means making the extra effort of blocking tags and checking people's navigation posts and masterlists. considering you said yourself that you have incest tags blocked, you also clearly know that. i do my best to be courteous and tag things people need to be tagged so people can feel welcome and keep themselves safe on my blog, and so that people who need to can make the decision to block me—my pinned navigation post has a clear list of things that i tag, and i tag all of my posts about incest. this means that you must have ignored your own filters to expose yourself to it. instead of using the filters that you are aware of and have access to, instead of blocking me when you realized you did not want anything to do with my content or my blog, you made the deliberate choice to expose yourself to something you knew would upset you, then when you were predictably upset, you decided to blame me and come into my space to take it out on me.

looking at the language you're using, you're clearly not trying to accomplish anything meaningful. you aren't here to discuss anything, you aren't here to ask about or suggest any practical, useful methods of harm prevention, you aren't even bringing up any actual harm except for your completely preventable distress; you are using loaded, emotional language to try and be hurtful, and you are trying to act as though you're morally superior for doing so. as someone who admits that you are not yourself a survivor of incestuous abuse, you are making a lot of assumptions about people who are, and how their trauma and their needs work. you are acting as though they are a monolith with all the same responses to trauma and all the same needs, as opposed to a group of people who all have different experiences and different ways of coping. you are also, quite frankly, making a lot of assumptions about me with that statement. all of this makes it incredibly fucking clear that this is not about how much you care about survivors, you're just using them as an excuse for your temper tantrum. survivors do not need you to fucking white knight for them, and even if any wanted your help, you clearly don't have any interest in doing the research to find out what effective help would actually look like.

i'm not even going to get into the way that immorality in fiction and art has always been important and useful, or the way that online fandom has been increasingly treating Western views on morality as the absolute standard to the point of open, vitriolic xenophobia. it's incredibly clear that that would only go over your head, and you honestly aren't even worth the time it would take for me to go into that.

i don’t feel bad for you, and i am not going to accept any fucking responsibility for your feelings, not when you came to my blog, ignored warnings and content tags, and had a bad fuckin time because of your own negligence, and not when you clearly can’t take the time to cool down, take care of yourself and take responsibility for yourself, and evaluate what the appropriate response to those feelings is. i am not going to accept responsibility for a complete stranger on the internet, especially not one who steps into my space thinking that they can harass me into doing what they want. you think that you can use shame and guilt to force people to do what you want them to do; you’re a bully and you’re not even a very good one.

you can try all you want to pretend that you have the moral high ground here, but it's very clear you know that you don’t—if you actually believed that, you wouldn’t be trying to make yourself sound kinder and more reasonable than you actually are by forcing sentiments like “I hope you get help” and “I hardly ever send hate” and insincere apologies into the same message as “you are so fucking sick”, “you’re a monster”, and “you are revolting.” it doesn’t matter if you "hardly ever" send hate—you still definitely fucking did it, my dude, and that still makes you a bully who spends their time being cruel to strangers regardless of how sorry you say you are. the best part of this is that i know you know that about yourself and you have to live with that while i'm going to keep writing things that i (and other people) enjoy and you're not going to be anything more to me than a funny joke that gets tossed around my apartment for a few weeks.

if i receive any more messages along these lines, they will be reported and blocked. i responded to this one because it was a fun novelty, and because i am sick and cranky and it gave me a good excuse to be kind of a bitch; i am not going to wait for the shine to wear off when i can better spend my time writing about puppy boys and kitty girls and brother fucking and questionably consensual somnophilia.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire.  And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all,  but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now.  He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself  in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

[birlcholtz]

Fic Questions

tagged by @the-lincyclopedia thank you!! (fun game: watch my writing get progressively less formal as the post continues. by the end it’s like what is capitalization)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

77!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

434,378 as of this week but it does go up quite regularly

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Okay so in terms of what’s on my AO3, I have Check Please, All For the Game, Sharp Zero, HP, and Miraculous Ladybug. I also have The Forbidden LOTR and PJO Fanfiction (as in, I’ve written it, but it’s never seeing the light of day)

(technically there is a PJO fic out there that has seen the light of day but I orphaned it because I was tired of getting comments asking about when it would be updated)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

and then i met you (and the whole world changed)

for the better

Knew It Was You

come home (to you, to us)

sin bin schematics

All of these are Check Please and all of them except Knew It Was You are part of my Zimbits Airport AU!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! It’s actually a very recent thing that I’ve started not responding to literally every single comment. Mainly I respond because I love talking about my writing so I am going to seize that opportunity when it comes up

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, DEFINITELY Happy Birthday (HP). Check out that MCD tag ahah. (I say HP but what I really mean is that I write fic about Regulus Black. The Regulus Black-centric tag is my home in the HP fandom)

fun fact: this is a very short fic that I wrote when I was 15 and basically forgot about until recently, and then I reread it recently and went holy shit?? I pulled NO punches????

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the wildest one you’ve written?

Not a ton? I think a lot of the fandoms I write for don’t really mesh that well. That being said, the aforementioned orphaned PJO fic is actually a PJO/ML crossover, so there’s that

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope! Sometimes I get comments that are just.... really confusing? And a more common thing is that in my AFTG fic I’ll get comments from people who are so focused on Andreil (or the most common ships in general) to the point that like. they miss the point of what I actually wrote. Those are annoying but they’re not hate, they’re very enthusiastic, they’re just... enthusiastic about a story I’m not writing? So it’s a bit frustrating.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No sjflskgjhgf I struggle enough to write kissing, I think if I ever tried to write smut my brain would just shut down. I’ve managed some fade-to-blacks (which are mostly in WIPs that haven’t been posted) but they rely HEAVILY on the powers of implication

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, although I have occasionally made a brief go of it, not to post, more as an exercise for myself in a language that I’m learning. Anyway I never finish them so I’m gonna say no

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really? I’ve definitely group brainstormed fics and then written them (the best example of this being Q&A (AFTG), which was the product of a truly off-the-walls group chat), but I tend to do all the actual writing myself. I think the way I write would drive a co-writer up the wall since it’s very disorganized and I don’t write stuff down because ~I know what’s gonna happen I don’t need notes~ and it would infuriate me if I was co-writing with me lmao, so I won’t inflict that on someone else

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I regularly move through ships I’m SUPER focused on, like it’s kind of a rotation. I will forever and always ship Percabeth though.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Okay so if you follow me at @birlwrites you may know this already, but i have this ‘warmups’ document that is just like, random ideas i get that i don’t necessarily want to finish but i just want to try out for a bit? and i have a rule that once a ‘warmup’ is more than 10 pages long (so 11+) then it has to be moved to its own document, just to make scrolling through the warmups doc easier. but usually, a warmup only passes 10 pages when i’m INTO it. so i have a bazillion wips i will probably never finish. i complain about this a lot. i have so many wips. i don’t need more.

here’s one: it’s titled ‘interrobang doesn’t know they’re dating’, it’s basically a full outline for a chowder/tango fic and it would be SO cool if i could ever like. get around to writing it. but i am constantly swamped with writing projects, so it’s probably not gonna happen. if anyone’s interested in adopting it though i’d be down for that!! i think it’s a fun idea i just almost def won’t write it myself

15. What are your writing strengths?

SNAPPY DIALOGUE AND SNARKY INTERNAL MONOLOGUE. my writing is COMEDIC, 90% of my ideas are based on a funny snippet that popped into my head, a lot of my worldbuilding is based on ‘hey you know what would be hilarious’ (whenever i explain how larai selects a chosen one in the rainfall universe i start laughing, which is a STARK contrast to how it plays out on the page), i love writing funny stuff!!

also i think my writing sounds nice, a lot of the time i pick words/syntax based on sound and flow so there’s that too. and i have lots of ideas! i don’t struggle much with writer’s block because a) i have a lot of strategies to deal with it and b) i have a lot of ideas to help get around it/work with it

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

PHYSICAL INTIMACY LMAO, sometimes in my end notes on shippy fics you can see me complaining ‘it took me literally 4 hours to write that very brief kiss’. also sometimes the humor in my writing gets in the way a bit, i have to very consciously put it away so characters can actually have serious, genuine emotions. also i don’t like outlining and i tend not to get betas for fanfiction so like..... i do my best continuity-wise but having really tightly plotted stories is just not my focus lol. (and i do put more effort into that for original stuff, it’s just fic where i kind of go wild)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If the reader’s supposed to know what it means, then writing it in another language is iffy for me. (stuff like terms of endearment which come up a lot in fic are fine imo, you can just put a note in to translate them and your reader will prob remember)

If the pov character isn’t supposed to understand it, and it doesn’t matter if the reader understands it, then ig it’s fine? but unless you already speak the other language (and i am NOT confident in my ability to translate english into literally any other language), then i think it’s way easier to just note that a character’s speaking x language and provide tone indicators, body language cues, etc. so the reader understands as much as the pov character.

That being said there are def times when it’s used super effectively--the dialogue in spanish in cemetery boys comes to mind! that’s not fanfic but it’s still creative writing so w/e

so i guess it comes down to: does actually writing out the dialogue in the other language serve a purpose? if it doesn’t, then you’re filling up the screen with words your reader isn’t likely to understand, which i try to avoid doing

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

so the first fandom i actually *wrote* for was PJO, but i distinctly remember creating warrior cats OCs when i was little. i never actually did anything w them but i had them and my favorite was a riverclan warrior named shellstream i remember this VIVIDLY

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

oh boy. okay so this is hard because i feel like i’m continuously improving as a writer. like in the sense that my writing is getting closer and closer to really matching my own taste? my favorites tend to always be my current projects as a result. and i do really love set those ghosts alight (HP) but it feels a little like cheating to say a fic i haven’t even finished writing yet. even though it’s def not cheating, that’s just the direction my brain is taking it.

i’m gonna say and then what? (OMGCP) because i’m super proud of the prose (especially ch 2 aka the first actual prose chapter), survived by (HP) for SUCCESSFULLY WRITING AN EMOTION and making readers cry :), and Q&A (AFTG) because i’m literally the one who wrote it and yet it still makes me wheeze. those are all fics i reread occasionally, because i’m big enough to admit i enjoy rereading my old stuff! (just like. to a point. some of my old stuff i can’t look at anymore because all the mistakes stick out to me like they have spotlights shining directly on them)

this was fun!! i’m gonna do an open tag because i just started my fall semester and brain tired. i know sometimes people see open tags and assume the op didn’t really mean it but I MEAN IT, PLEASE DO THIS AND TAG ME!!!!! YES YOU READING THIS

[delphiniumblooms]

fic writer review

thanks @daisy-appreciation-week for tagging!!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

28 :D

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

44507 and much more in my fanfic google drive - WIPs or never-posted fics

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

i wrote a lot in fantastic beasts (18 out of my 28 works are fb) and potc, and have done a hamilton oneshot

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

these are all fb because they’re older lol

You’re All I Need - honestly I don’t like this one that much, no idea why it blew up. a slightly angsty newtina fic written for a secret santa fic exchange in 2018 for a newtina discord server.

Special Treatment - a newtina crackfic, where theseus scamander teases tina about showing up to work late with a hickey. one of my best attempts at comedy!

nativitas - a short fic about theseus scamander meeting his baby brother newt for the first time, first in my scamander brothers series

Taken By Surprise - newtina fic written based on the rayllum kiss scene from the dragon prince

discidium - the second instalment in the scamander brothers series. newt sees theseus off at platform 9 3/4. he doesn’t want his brother to leave him.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

yes i do!! i thank everyone for leaving comments cause i don’t get that many and they do wonders for my writer’s ego. please don’t be shy to leave comments, i am very friendly and will be eternally grateful for compliments on my fic!!!

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

as a general rule i don’t write angst cause i treat fic like escapism and so need happy endings. the angsty ends i have are usually in line with canon. duty-bound covers the end of potc3, where will and elizabeth are separated, so that’s pretty angsty. a little fall of rain covers queenie leaving jacob in the crimes of grindelwald.

7. Do you write crossovers?

ive written only one and am not likely to write another LOL

annexus is a fantastic beasts-bbc sherlock crossover. i was thinking about how similar queenie and sherlock are, and how sherlock’s deduction powers have about the same effect as queenie’s legilimency, so boom, this fic was born. also they have the same birthday! i posted the fic on that day last year

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

never, thankfully. i’ve never become well-known enough or written sufficiently controversial stuff in order to get hate

9, Do you write smut?

nah. i write sex but i shy away from the details. i like to say i like subtlety but really i am just a coward. maybe when i become a more experienced writer and grow some balls then i will write proper smut

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

11. Ever had a fic translated?

no but that would be really cool!!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

i think i’ve tried to multiple times but it never really got anywhere

13. All time fav ship?

oh no,,, uhh it’s gotta be either willabeth, newtina or sylki. can’t pick one, all three have had such deep impacts on me

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

this 7k+ monster of a newtina fic that i started in like 2019 and still haven’t finished. kinda cringe at the thought of it, because it was just me projecting really bad. premise was tina has a really really bad period and newt takes care of her

15. Writing strengths?

i think i do emotional impact very well. i know how to use rhetoric devices and things like internal monologue and third person deep pov and i can string words together in a way that create absolute bangers of lines

16. Writing weaknesses?

i am really bad at plot/exposition LMAOO and am also like a really inconsistent writer. i have horrible perfectionism issues and so i don’t write often, only when i’m inspired, though i am making an effort to write more. also sometimes i think i’m too obsessed with certain ideas or certain ways of wording things such that i force them in even though it might not necessarily make sense to

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

i’ve never done it before! i don’t dare to do it in languages i don’t know, and so far chinese (my second language) hasn’t really been useful to write dialogue in. that might change though because i’m getting into more works with chinese rep, like agents of shield!

18. First fandom you wrote for?

fantastic beasts

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

my most recent one, (wolf’s) teeth! it’s a sylki songfic based on teeth by 5sos and honestly i feel like it’s my magnum opus. i love these two so much and the song fit them and the plot so well!! i banged it out during a really busy school week in like 3 days, i’m so proud of myself for doing it

https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphiniumblooms here’s my ao3 page!!

tagging @swinging-stars-from-satellites and anyone else who wants to do it!

[waywardsons-imagines]

I’m Not Okay

Author - Admin Aingeal

Characters - Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N

Pairing - None

Summary/Request - When Y/N runs off on yet another suicide mission, the brothers find her having taken down an entire nest of vampires. They are determined to figure out what has been driving her, before it’s too late.

Word Count - 1,960

Warnings - Angst, Descriptions of Depression, Mentions of Blood (from killing vampires) (If you spot any other warnings I should add, please let me know so I can edit this post to include them!)

A/N - Based on the song “I’m Not Okay” by Citizen Soldier

Story -

The rain was pouring. With everything I had been dealing with inside, it was as if the sky decided to cry with me and just let it all out at once.

I stood there in the parking lot with my arms out as if I was trying to catch the water with my bare hands.

Machete in one hand - blood dripping onto the pavement from my fingers & the large blade, more still running down my shirt and finding its way to the ground around me, mixing with the water to form unique artwork around me.

Tonight - the monsters that inhabit my brain are screaming so damn loud. I can’t ignore them any longer. The walls I built up so that I would never have to hear their voices couldn’t go any higher.

I hear the rumble of an engine in the distance. They are approaching quickly, sure, but will they make it in time?

The person that they see, day in and day out, is nothing more than a mask. A facade. A blatant lie.

But it’s also the only way to cope that I’ve ever known.

Being the real me - broken, scared, desperate for something I can never obtain - has only ever resulted in being more and more alone in this world.

I hear the purr of the engine a short distance behind me - the doors slamming shut in their hurry, and their booming voices carrying through over the din of the downpour.

“Y/N! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Their footsteps cause distinct splashes as they make their way to where I stand. I find the sound amusing for as morbid a moment this has become.

“Dean, chill,” Sam interjected, seemingly noticing my exasperation of their presence. “She’s fine; that’s the important thing.”

I am far more thankful for the water falling from the sky than I ever have been before. It is hiding the falling tears and making it that much easier to replace the mask I need for the interaction ahead.

“Sorry guys,” I keep my tone stoic and passively positive as always as I turn to face them. “I got a lead, and I took my chance before they could move again.”

“Sorry?” Dean bit out. “All you can say is ‘sorry guys’? We were worried sick, Y/N!” His voice was rough as always.

“Dean!”

“No, Sam! Not this time!” His hand was out, waving to dismiss his brother. “What the fuck is going on with you, Y/N!? Sneaking off, not telling a damn one of us where the hell you’re going off to. Taking on demons, werewolves, even a fucking wendigo - ALONE.”

I felt unattached from my body. As if watching overhead at the scene playing out below me. With a stoic blink, I heard myself respond, “I don’t see what the big deal is. I came out of each one alive and well.”

I sidestep the brothers and start the sadly short journey to my car on the other side of the vast open lot.

“Look, Y/N,” Sam said softly. I could just hear the resignation. “We’re just worried. Taking on those creatures is dangerous; let alone doing it without backup. And now you’re here taking out an entire nest of vampires?”

He tried to stay strong - not the ever tough soldier his brother was, but the solid rock we all came to expect. I could hear his voice break, though, despite his best efforts.

I turn back and lock eyes with each of them again, all while still taking steps back toward the vehicles. I could feel how dead my stare was; I could feel how painfully emotionless my face rested.

‘I’m not okay - can’t you see that?’ I want to shout at them.

I have so much to say, but no one to hear it.

Despite how much is at stake, keeping quiet not burdening the brothers - or their angel - with the battle inside myself.

I feel the emotions clash - the want and the need to tell them everything, right here and right now - the futility of it, seeping in and convincing me they don’t care.

So, I let the monsters win, silencing me once again. Lying to myself, they’d never understand why it’s so hard to say that I’m not okay.

“I’m fine, Sam. Really.”

“Then what is your excuse?” Dean cut in. “What is your reason for going out on these suicide missions? I mean, come on Y/N, let’s face it - you’re either hell-bent on destruction, or you’re just being stupid. And we both know you are smarter than Sam and I put together. So what’s the deal? What’s next? Trying to take on HellHounds?!”

I blinked heavily.

I wish I had an answer. I wish I had a scar, a bruise, something to show the proof of the battles I face, day in and day out. Something to show for the invisible abuse - faced with the choice to either be judged or hideaway in secret as I inevitably choose to do.

I let out a soft but long sigh. “I have no answer for you. Not one you’d accept anyway.”

Words may be my only option. The only visible symptom to show for the battle that wages is the sheer desire to end the torment that is my life.

I look at the two of them for a moment before finally breaking away to turn back - back to my car, back to my escape, back to a place where they can’t see the battle playing out in my mind. I can only hide so much. The tears were beginning to fall once again.

I hear the steps approaching. Their long strides make it easy work to catch up to where I am. Feeling a hand grip my upper arm and spin me around quickly - my face must have physically shown how distraught and angry I am. Unable to hide my emotions as I usually would - my gaze clashed with the glaring green eyes of Dean’s boring into me.

The reason I say my face must’ve revealed more than I wanted is because, after a long but instant moment, I saw his face drop.

In all the years we’ve been fighting together, he has never seen this side of me, and for a good reason.

“Y/N? Wh-” he releases his grip on my arm, running his hand down his face, contemplating. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Dean,” I say, schooling my features. “Forget it.” Quickly I ground myself, now trying to turn my features to stone - removing any trace of the ever hidden emotions that were trying to pour out.

“Bullshit.” His voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Talk to me,” he said and shared a silent look to his brother, almost as if to confirm he didn’t imagine things, “Talk to us.”

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Sam joined. “You know you don’t have to hide things from us.”

“I’m fine. Just -”

“No. You’re not, okay,” Sam interjected, joining Dean in speaking firmly. “Something is wrong; tell us.” Sam was quiet for a moment before adding, “Please.”

I felt guilty as I noticed his voice break.

Staring at the brothers, I felt a mixture of emotions — contempt, love, bitterness, relief.

“Fine,” I bit out.

Perhaps knowing it was a losing battle, I caved for the first time in my life. “I’m not okay. You’re right. But I don’t have the words to explain the hell that goes on within my mind on a daily basis.”

“Try.” Dean retorted instantly, seamlessly - I hadn’t even finished speaking. I knew he was trying to offer comfort, in his ‘unattached,’ ‘too cool for attachment’ way.

“Humor us,” he added after a beat of me not responding.

I looked at him with a pinched look, shaking my head. I could feel every emotion ripping through me like a storm.

“I am in a constant state of being numb, Dean,” I finally said. “Numb to emotions, numb to life itself. Most people survive because they can see that light at the end of the tunnel - but for me?” I shake my head. “There is no light. It’s all just a dark cage without a key, just suffocating darkness and weight, with demons screaming at me. I don’t control my thoughts anymore; they control me.”

Sam shook his head now. “Y/N, why didn’t you say something? We can help you get through whatever this is.” Sam tried taking my hand, trying to offer some sort of comfort.

“It’s not a phase, Sam.” I pull my hand free abruptly, ignoring the pain in my chest from seeing Sam’s hurt expression. “It’s who I am, all I ever have been. I’m never going to be safe, always inching closer to that final breaking point.”

Dean seemed exasperated. “That’s fine,” he said. “If you break, that’s okay. Just don’t hide, and don’t go running off.”

Dean wrapped his arms around me with a strength I couldn’t gently pull away from, pulling me in close but still speaking loud enough that Sam could hear, “We’ll help you pick up the pieces. We’re a family, like it or not, punk. As a member of this family, you’re not allowed to quit.”

My brow furrowed the moment he called me family.

Dean, holding me at arm's length, graced me with a small, awkward smile. “Look, this may be a battle you feel you have to face solo, and so be it,” he motioned with one of his hands as if dismissing the thought, “but don’t quit on us. Sam and I, we’re here, always. Even if you just need to sit in silence with someone, so you aren’t alone. We get it; we’ve all been through a lot.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him, conflicted and upset - his grip on my arms felt heavy. Itchy and uncomfortable, as the only place I wanted to be right now was in my car. The rain had long since stopped or lightened - I couldn’t tell - but I just wanted to start the engine — bake in the heater. Drive.

After a long awkward beat of silence, Dean rolled his eyes lightly in slight awkward annoyance. “This is the part where you say: ‘back atcha! We’re a team!’ Y/N.”

I took light offense to how he mocked my voice, but it didn’t matter.

With a light, honestly fake feeling laugh, I removed his arms from mine.

“You don’t entirely get it, Dean.”

Dean scoffed lightly. “What, are you saying we don’t have hard times too? I can guarantee we—“

In an outburst I couldn’t control, I snapped. “Stop! Okay?? I’m not dismissing that you two have had a shitty life! I’m saying you don’t hear what goes on in my head, Dean.”

Sam, raising a placating hand, tried to calm me. “Please, Y/N, we may not understand what exactly is going on, but we understand your reactions to it.”

I just stood still, breathing hard - trying so hard not to cry.

Sam took this as a sign to continue. “Y/N, we care for you. And honestly, we don’t think anyone should be alone with thoughts like that.”

I felt my face melt like paper catching on fire - every emotion displayed as I felt my chin tense, and my lips quiver as I burst into tears.

The brothers’ embrace was welcome, however wet.

The emotions were not as welcome, but it was unstoppable.

Dean was closest to my ear as I sobbed, and I heard him softly say, “You’re not okay, but you will be. We’re with you every step of the way.”

A part of me hated him saying that, but I couldn’t ignore the relief I felt.

Maybe I would be okay.

[forbidding-souda]

About Mod Souda

You guys should talk to me in the ask box more smh you guys are fun

Like just tell me about your day but I won’t guarantee that like 1000% I’ll respond but I’ll read them all.... efkjlwdbsc or or ask me questions or something idk I like talking

1500 followers face reveal when (shocked emoji) /srs

Anyways here’s some things about me because I never really introduced myself (since this is my account and why would I do an introduction)

THIS IS LITERALLY MY LIFE STORY GOODBYE BAHSBAH

-Mod Souda 

Hi I am Mod Souda and I go by he/him ofc ofc I am a gay man.

Uhh I am an a native amercan mixed kid AND an Aquarius ugh I’m so unique right. I was raised by a raver and a metalhead skater in Vegas. I’ve been in the pit since I was 4 years old (specifically at a Primus concert LMAO).

The first fandom I was in was Creepypasta, and I was about 8 years old. It’s funny because the first musician I ever actively liked was Madame Macabre. 

As a child (like 7-11) I mainly listened to Vocaloid, Madame Macabre, and Nicki Minaj.

When Avengers came out I was still in elementary school. And .. Loki... wrjhfbwejdhb bro!! gay awakening!! holy shit. I was in love with him but I didn’t want to admit it smh shhh.

The first anime I ever watched was Black Butler. I was IN LOVE with Joker from Book of Circus ehbwdjqshdfb. The last episode of that season ended the day I moved to California. I remember crying bc of the last scene inside of the moving truck.

I also got into Fairy Tail a lot. Also tragic. I had the hugest crush on Gajeel Redfox mmmmmemdwkgsnekfdjsglkvcx

I live in the Bay Area, and grew up in the same house, compared to living in Vegas where I moved every two years. There are ... so many poc here ... and in vegas I was in a class with all white people. Being around so many poc was so like ?? fun ?? idk how to describe it but it feels like how life should feel like; not stressful at all.

I started listening to goth music when I was 12 because I was in the Mr. Creepypasta amino and somebody was like “you guys should join the goth amino” and I was like oh that sounds so fun !!! Boom... goth Mod Souda arrived.

I was all about Sopor Aeternus and Switchblade Symphony. 

I discovered my lifelong favorite artist in like 2016. It was because I was making playlist for my Fairy Tail oc (tragic) and I added this song I got off of a “Creepypasta Theme Songs” and it was Bernadette by IAMX (which was assigned to Laughing Jack). And I listened to the song and was like meh this is cool. Then one day I played the playlist and it just.... hit different. LMAO I was like waiitittttititit. The next day, on the way to the airport, I downloaded all 7 (at the time) of his albums and listened to them the whole way. I’ve seen him live too like mm chris corner I love you.

I got into DR in 2015 because of an edit of (anime) Syo and Junko to Pound the Alarm LOL. I was like “this looks cool” so I watched it on my phone while sitting on the couch all in one go. Spoilers but I cried the most when mondo and sakura died, fun fact. Life went down from there smh!! 

I really believed that I was dating Gundham Tanaka. Like everything in my life was Gundham Tanaka related like I was ... obsessed with him. And I coudln’t see art of him and sonia because it would make me have a breakdown bc I thought he was cheating on me PLZ BHDSABHJBAHAAHHA it’s funny because I kin sonia now and I’m in love with her.

This was the same year where I ???? got bruises on my eardrums somehow (I asked my dad recently how I got them and he went uhh idk) ???? and I couldn’t hear anything for like three years plz. My hearing has gotten better but idk if my ear percentage is 100%/100% or if I’m just grateful it isn’t what it is before LMAO so that’s when I started learning ASL.

This is also the same year where I got hospitalized for being a neurodevelopmental schizophrenic lol OOPS !

A funny story of me growing up with danganronpa is uhh when future arc was still airing ,,, Spoilers,, and the episode with Juzo passing aired,, I literally printed the frame of him talking to himself confessing his love and BROUGHT IT TO SCHOOL. I LIT A CANDLE FOR HIM TOO LIKE BYE

Freshman year of highschool I started dating an emo kid who brought his electric guitar to school. TRAGIC. We dated for like two years please what.

Sophomore year I started getting into metal and punk. This is mainly because I went to a Slayer concert. I was trying to branch out of my goth bubble and !!! metal really stuck with me. My favorite subgenre is goregrind. It’s mmm so good. Punk... was a miss. I absolutely hate punks. If anyone in the alternative community is reading this right now I’ll tell you this: the punks that I interacted with to learn more about the community were from OC .... goodbye

I still listen to Glass Street tho ^ they are hc/crossover and I really like their music omg I have their merch now plz HBSAJKH and I still like the patch pants / crusties I made so that’s cool. A lot of kids look up / glamorize me just because of my fashion but at least they give me clout ig ...

The year after that I downloaded Spotify for the first time. I was an apple music/youtube person (tragic). Uhh what else omg. I finally figured out that I was neurodevelopmental and that it affected my way of thinking and that ,, it wasn’t JUST because I am sch so that was an awakening.

Anyways now trying to get a minor in asl interpreting mmmm and trying to get a job SMH !! why is it so hard. I’m into DND now oo that’s new and I’m collecting the dice.

I started this blog in July 2020 when I was staying with my friend in a tent in New York for a couple of months. I forced her to watch despair arc (LOL) and now she’s a junko cosplayer so B^)

Metalhead anon and everyone else who’s been here for a long ass time make me SOOO happy like woah.. it’s been so long omg. I used to post fics three times a day like wtf the EFFORT (that was before school started lol oops my bad)

Since then I’ve got a boyfriend and a whole wave of danganronpa cosplayers who are my friends now. It’s really cool to talk to so many young people (sometimes) who are hella into like,, open conversations about gender and politics and whatnot. I’m used to talking to 20 year old goth people you know? 

Whenever I do something “cringey” (like if I want to do dr character impersonations or if I want to rant about how much I love this anime character or if I want to try out neopronouns) I’m like hmmmm I can go to the danganronpa cosplayers and I know they won’t judge me for this.

Anyways that’s it. It’s 22:50 where I am right now aaaanndd I go on this blog way more than I should LOL