#I'm not even re-reading this so it probably sucks

[uncivilcivilservice]

Strange Gifts

Armand/Daniel drabble, also featuring Louis and Lestat. Set on Night Island, sometime post-canon. Possibly the stupidest thing I've ever written.

“I've got a gift for you” Daniel announced as he turned the corner to where Louis and Armand were waiting.  

“What is it?” Armand said, eyes still glued to the screen of his iPhone, casting a light blue glow onto his face.  

“Lizard’s tail.”  

That got Armand’s attention, his phone was immediately pocketed, and ghostly white hands stretched out to take the gruesome token, which Daniel was tactfully pinching by the very tip of the scaly appendage.  

While Armand examined the object, turning it round in his hands, peering at the cross section of muscle and bone left where the tail had broken off from the frightened creature that dropped it, Louis looked between him and the bringer of the gift with an arched brow.  

“Where did you even find that?” Louis stepped closer to look over Armand’s shoulder as he bent the tail back and forth, testing it’s flexibility.  

“Just on the porch, I dunno if the storm earlier today had anything to do with it or if the lizard was just trying to escape something, but it seems fresh, must be from today.” 

The pair stood in silence watching Armand play with his new toy, now squeezing the tail near the base to see the effect on the flesh and bone as they grinded together under pressure.  

Daniel shook his head affectionately, looking back to Louis. 

“Where’s the big guy then? I know he likes to be fashionably late, but has anyone actually checked that he remembers he’s supposed to be coming with us tonight?”  

The four of them, Daniel, Armand, Louis and Lestat, had arrived at Night Island the day before, and were due to take a boat to the mainland to feed, and just explore Miami for a while.  

“I’m not Lestat’s keeper, phone him and tell him to hurry up.” 

Before Daniel could even reach to take his phone out his pocket, his eye was drawn back to Armand as he raised his hand and darted his head forward to lick at the blood oozing from the detached tail.  

“Armand, don’t do that!” Daniel barked a surprised laugh, making a futile grab for the gift he was starting to regret giving. Louis for his part simply sighed as he leaned against the glass railing, shaking his head as Armand’s face briefly screwed up in disgust, before returning to his trademark blank stare as he considered the tail, as though adding his observations to whatever analysis he was making of the fleshy specimen.  

“I take it you’re happy with the gift then?” Daniel asked, still laughing incredulously at Armand’s antics. 

Armand fixed Daniel with an intense, almost predatory stare. His grin, however, made it seem more like the look of a housecat hunting for sport, than any predator chasing down it’s meal out of hunger.  

“Very happy lover. Let me show you.” He leapt at Daniel, arm reaching to catch him by the back of the neck to pull him into a kiss.  

Had he still been a mortal Daniel would have had no chance at evading him, but even as young in the blood as he was, Daniel still managed to lean away just quickly enough that Armand couldn’t quite get the grip on him he needed to share a lizard-blood laced kiss with his fledgling.  

“Absolutely not” Daniel broke away and started running back down the veranda, his laugh echoing off the marble floors and glass wall. Armand didn’t make much of a chase however, not wanting to damage the delicate gift, he headed back inside to find a jar to preserve it in with alcohol and to investigate what was holding their Prince up for so long.  

With the tail safely stored in the kitchen for later, Armand walked back outside to find Louis looking out over the water, and Daniel on his phone, distracted.  

Walking up to his fledgling, Armand spoke in the softest voice he could manage; “Daniel?” 

Daniel made a small noise of acknowledgement before glancing up from his phone. He dropped his arm entirely as Armand ran his fingers up it, leaning up to close the distance between them until he met Daniel’s lips with his own.  

Daniel had leaned into the kiss for several moments before he remembered why he had been trying to avoid kissing Armand just minutes earlier. He pushed away from Armand, hand rushing to wipe at his mouth dramatically while Armand cackled in delight.  

“I am here! Are we ready to go?” Lestat bounded through the doorway with a grin, which faded as he looked upon the scene, where Louis, exasperated, but more amused than he would admit, was already walking ahead towards the private dock, leaving behind Armand who had laughed himself into tears, next to Daniel who was still putting on a commendable performance of disgust, with mutterings of “I can’t believe you did that” and “do we still have any mouthwash upstairs” even as he held back his own laughter.   

“What did I miss?” Lestat pouted at having been left out on a joke.  

“I brought Armand a gift and it backfired, now let's go, I need to find some piece-of-shit to wash my mouth out with.” Daniel draped an arm over a smug Armand, and together they headed to catch up with Louis.  

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Chapter 2

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

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

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

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[chrysalind]

last chance

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader wc: 860 tags: pre-relationship, fluff, high school setting (third year), bad flirting, kuroo is really trying

"What'd you get for number 8?" Kuroo asks as he leans over you.

"Umm," you tilt your head and the golden light of the late afternoon sun flickers across your cheek. "I think I put down 1868 to 1912."

"Wait, seriously?" He claps his hand on his forehead. That's five questions he's probably got wrong now, not to mention he'd barely finished writing his second essay, meaning the maximum possible grade he could get is...

"I hate history," he grumbles, trying to redirect his train of thought from its depressing destination. "I'm never taking it in university."

You sigh ruefully. "I feel the same way about chemistry. The moment I walked out of yesterday's exam, every piece of knowledge about thermodynamics just—" you wave your hand near your temple, "—vanished."

"Bet you're glad I gave you my notes though, right?"

The train doors slide open and a crowd of students from another school shuffle in. His legs brush against yours as he tries to make more room around him.

"Only because I gave you my English notes," you counter dryly, moving your bookbag onto your lap as a freckled teen slides into the seat beside you. The small plastic Keroppi charm on its side swings erratically against your thigh.

"A more than fair trade," he reasons. "Especially since I was getting the highest mark in chem, while you were just below Takaichi in English."

"Takaichi's mom is from New Zealand," you reply, with a roll of your eyes. "He's been practically fluent since he was born. Plus, your handwriting sucks, so you get points taken off for that."

Kuroo snorts, but has no choice but to concede. After all, he can barely read his own notebooks from last semester.

He watches as the Tokyo cityscape rushes past, still thrumming with life, even as the sun dips low in the sky. It's hard to imagine an afternoon where he won't be packed into the subway at this time, with his loosened Nekoma uniform tie around his collar, and your occasional company on the afternoons he's able to catch you at the school entrance.

His short spell of mourning is interrupted by the announcer as the train pulls into a familiar station. You both exit onto the platform and make a beeline towards the escalators.

"I'm not staying in Tokyo," he says, as you're halfway through the barriers.

Keroppi's face smacks against your zipper as you pause. "Oh?"

"I'm going to Osaka," he continues, weaving through the crowd. You fall into step beside him and there's a second in which Kuroo thinks he's vastly overestimated his importance in your life.

"That's..." He watches as a crease forms between your brows. "I thought you were going to Tokodai."

"Nah," he says, re-adjusting the strap of his bag. "I think it'd be good to gain some independence, you know?"

"Right," you say, tucking your Suica away. The sound of the city fills in the quiet that follows as you step out of the station.

Truthfully, Kuroo had been hoping for something—anything—more than the pensive silence that now settles between the two of you as you both walk the last few blocks of your high school era. But as you round the corner, the weight of the moment only grows heavier.

From his peripheral vision, he can tell you're sulking with your lips turned down in a pout that you probably aren't even aware of. And even though you've never admitted it to anyone, he's not oblivious to the way you can barely hold his gaze for more than two seconds, or how you linger at the intersection when you part ways.

"You know," he says, as you both stand before a crosswalk, "this is probably your last chance."

Your eyes flash up at him.

"What do you mean?"

He straightens up.

"Your last chance to admit that you're in love with me," he blurts. He had meant for it to come out a bit smoother, maybe aiming for a kind of teasing tone, but something had gone horribly wrong in the last second. Embarrassingly, he feels his own cheeks grow hot at the boldness of his declaration.

The crosswalk indicator changes, but you're both frozen in place.

You blink, looking absolutely bewildered, and he begins to fear that he's broken you.

And then an odd sound emerges from your mouth—a short snicker, followed by an open burst of laughter. Your giggle seems to carry over the noise of the traffic around you and Kuroo tries very hard not to die right then and there.

Instead, he forces himself to laugh along. How could he have miscalculated so bad?

He's sure he'll remember this moment for many sleepless nights ahead.

"Don't worry," you say later with the world's most bemused smile, as you near his building. "It's not my last chance."

Kuroo works up the courage to look you in the eye.

"After all, I still have our graduation ceremony."

[yanderestarangel]

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐓𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

ღ ୭·࣭࣪̇˖⸺ prompt used ღ ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

TW: daddykink,sizekink, blowjob, v!sex, afab anatomy, sex without a condom, porn plot, smut, dirty talk, ftm reader, record!sex, praise, hard!dom bi han, himbo!reader pornstar!reader, pornstar!bihan, possessive!sex.

Bi Han might be an elegant and polite man outside the confines of your home, but the truth was that with you he was practically a wild animal ⸺ you awakened a side of the Grand Master that not even he knew was possible... And This led to the two of you opening a porn channel, mainly to satisfy the man's insane desire to record every beautiful and lascivious reaction coming from you, for him that was art in its purest form, however, he was also a proud man, especially after seeing you receiving emails to participate in other channels in PH.

He swallowed hard as he read each line of the text of a probable partnership with another porn actor, he knew that that person would not and could not touch you... But your boyfriend was also a jealous man, very jealous, so for everyone's sake his problems he decided to fuck you like you've never fucked before and record it, turning you into a dumb and beautiful himbo - full with his cum leaking from all your holes -

He was more rude that day, which led you to ask if he was jealous of you, it was obvious that you had seen the email, making your boyfriend just lock the bedroom door and take the professional camera, his hands were shaking slightly as he adjusted the camera settings. Bi Han growled, taking off his remaining clothes except his boxers, which were transparent enough to give a clear view of his throbbing dick. His erection strained against the fabric as he approached you slowly, hands resting on his waist

"-Of course, silly boy," he laughs darkly. "-I'm not just jealous..." he whispered harshly, reaching down and grabbing your hips firmly, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together intimately; "-I'm possessive... you belong to me, now on your knees, I need to see your mouth worshiping my cock angel face" he positioned himself over your face, the grand master took the throbbing cock out of boxer briefs, his member hit your face quickly, aligning his member with your wet lips before slowly moving forward until his tip lightly brushed against them.

The heat emanating from his shaft singed the sensitive flesh around your mouth, causing involuntary moans to escape your throat as you took inch by inch of the tall man ⸺Bi Han moaned deeply, fighting the urge to thrust his hips forward and let you take more of him into your eager mouth. Instead, he held his ground, relishing the feeling of your warm, wet tongue circling around the head of his cock, teasingly tracing its length before finally swallowing half of it between those plump lips.

His member throbbed violently inside your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva spread across your chin. "-You look so pretty on your knees worshiping me, where you're supposed to be" He moaned, his harsh tone reverberating throughout your body. Despite the coldness in his voice, there was an underlying hunger that made it impossible for anyone other than Bi Han to ignore it – a primal need fueled by desire burning brightly within him.

"-That's mine... You're all mine, my boy." He murmured harshly, gripping your hair firmly and using it as leverage to control your movements, he began to pound harder into your tight mouth, face flushed crimson with lust. His grip on your hair tightened until it hurt but also fueled another wave of pleasure coursing through him. Meanwhile, you could feel the warmth emanating from his crotch growing more intense, almost burning you alive...

"-That's it, darling... Oh fuck- suck daddy's cock like the filthy whore I know you are." He ordered coldly, but his heartbeat quickened with his obedience, while fat tears fell from your eyes, the cold metal of the camera pressed against your cheek, recording every moan and whimper.

"-Not so hard now are you little one? Crying already like the dumb little baby you are." His cock throbbed violently inside you, filling every corner of your throat with each powerful thrust. "-Good boy", he praises between labored breaths. "-So obedient... just like I knew you would be."

With an unexpected roar, it came out of his mouth abruptly, Bi Han smiled widely, admiring the sight of your dampened hair. He placed both hands on your waist again, lifting you so that you were on your toes, with your legs spread wide like a porn star ready for action should be ⸺ he watched your wetness glisten in the light of the camera, his dick writhing violently in anticipation.

"-Look at that perfect pussy," He moaned deeply, leaning in to capture your reaction on video. "-Now open your legs, slut," He says roughly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breath fanned over your sensitive skin, raising goosebumps as it tickled lightly.

"-Let daddy claim what's rightfully mine." Bi Han positioned himself between your spread legs once more, his thick tip brushing against your entrance teasingly before pushing inside you slowly but relentlessly. Your tight cunt of him clenched around him tightly, milking him mercilessly as if seeking more—each inch of his length of him disappeared inside you, filling you up completely. There was a mix of pain and pleasure etched on your features; nevertheless, they only served to further fuel his hunger.

"-You were made to take my dick, to be fucked by me and only me, you like being used, don't you? No one else can have you like that." He continued to capture every groan, and whimper escaping from your lips—capturing every inch of your submission, the way his body arched in response, a proof to everyone and especially to the grand master, that you were his, and always would be, he forced you to look at the recording light on the lens, he squeezed your face even tighter, forcing you to look directly at the camera while he pushed you relentlessly.

"-Do you think they can satisfy you like I can? Do you think they know how to make you scream and beg for more?" He whimpered hoarsely, his breath hot against your ear. "-No one knows your body like I do, you're so small... F-Fuck boy! I could break you in half, you'll never leave me right? Only I can satisfy you like this baby boy mmph- That's right, scream for me" he continued, his voice full of sadistic pleasure. "-Let the world see how you submit to me, how you are nothing more than a whore... My whore."

In response, you screamed Bi Han's name so loudly that it reverberated throughout the room—your voice broke mid-scream due to the intensity of your pleasure and submission. It felt shivers down his spine hearing those words spoken aloud; as you looked at the camera, seeing your reflection, your mascara smudged your face, the lip gloss you used before was already completely lost, especially after the violet blowjob you gave Bi Han, leaving your throat sore you were a crying mess, a beautiful sight, your quivering pussy squeezing him only fueled his horny, bringing him closer to his own release.

"-That's my good boy... I'll never let any man touch you, you're just mine, fuck yes... fucking hell..." He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips for support as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

His pace picks up gradually, each brutal thrust harder than the previous one. His balls slaps against your clit with each powerful thrust, sending waves of intense pleasure coursing through your body. The combined sensations overwhelm you; pain melding seamlessly into pure bliss as Bi Han continues his savage assault on your tight hole.

"-Take every single drop of my seed little slut... Mmph-... I'm c-cuming- Oh fuck- Take it my boy-" As he nears climax, Bi Han grunted lowly, holding his head still so that you wouldn't miss out on seeing him lose control. You can see the veins bulging on his forehead, face contorted into a mask of animalistic lust.

Suddenly, he shouts out loudly, filling your pussy completely this time around—his hot seed spurting forth like a fountain, coating your insides entirely, his orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced, shattering your mind, as you trembled on his pulsing shaft .

Panting heavily, he pulled out of your spent pussy, his erection twitched slightly at the sight of his cum leaking from your opening—a clear testament to his dominance over you. He wraps an arm around your waist protectively, helping steady you on unsteady legs.

"-You're just mine, my pretty boy." With that confession made, Bi Han pulls out slowly but firmly, ensuring every last drop of his seed remained within you. He looks into the camera one last time before turning it off—a possessive grin plays on his lips when he thinks about all those who would watch your intimate moments later.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[syoddeye]

more reading recs

because one post isn't enough. we are hashtag blessed with fic.

as requested, i've highlighted fics with noncon and/or dubcon elements in orange. beyond that, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated, although these may change or may not be established yet.

there is no method to this madness, no specific order. these are listed here as my brain remembered them.

i've checked all the links maybe three times, if they're broken, i blame tumblr's formatting.

without further ado...

Slasher Handler by @dragonnarrative-writes - Ghost x Reader

"Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!" Another fantastically written Simon, with wonderful dashes of Gaz and Price. It's put the term 'romance knives' in my vocabulary. There are many quotable bits and moments that made my blood run cold with how normal the ~situation~ feels, but everything has to be experienced firsthand.

The Far Shore by @deadbranch - Soap x Reader

DB's fic collection is rich, and The Far Shore is no different. I fucking loved Pacific Rim, so when I saw her first mention a PR AU, I did imaginary backflips. DB's Readers are some of my favorites because of how complex and realistic they feel, and when combined with the visceral depth of the neural handshake AND Soap? Compelling. The dynamic between them is fascinating. I almost can't wait for it to be finished so I can go back and dissect it.

Falling into Place by @mortuarywriting

Morg's brought the first COD Isekai AU I've read, like a little treat, with A/B/O to boot. The first chapter hooked me and cracked me up. Their dialogue reads so well, it truly feels like I got sucked into the universe. The panicked ramblings, the over-explanation, the 'oh shit, we don't even have a shared cultural touchstone' moments. I cannot wait for more.

Carvings by @femalefemur - Price x Reader

Cyn's got this amazing thing going on called 'Top Quality Worms' where she takes me by the hand and leads me down a rabbit hole I didn't know I'd find so cozy. Carvings is one piece from her incredible list, featuring a bloody, possessive Captain Price. Somehow, out of this entire piece, Price snapping a pen really did it for me. Did someone say loss of control? Oh no, not my kryptonite!

Under Your Spell by @groguspicklejar - Gaz x Reader x Soap

This fic had me at the pairing tag. Lured me right in. No hope for me, and I'm not mad about it. The way Gaz and Soap play off of each other in Under Your Spell is spine-tingling in more ways than one. The definition of scaroused. Kelsi writes a wonderful Gaz. The first two paragraphs in part two, Split My Skin, describe him perfectly to me.

Chokehold by @ccrites - Soap x Reader

Chokehold is a chef's kiss read. Starts off as a cute and sweet gym read, and uh, well, it does get sweeter, in a way. Without spoiling anything, there is a brief cab ride that made me take a lap before things got really going for Reader. CC's Soap is a delightful tease that is tender all at the same time. I'd join his gym in a heartbeat.

Knight/Princess AU by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world - Price x Reader

I've read and re-read this AU series a dozen times. It's so gd cute, I might need to see the dentist about how it's rotting my teeth. Seriously, it makes ME want to be a princess. Specifically Price's princess. Bear writes such a sweet and gruff Price, catch me holding a hand over my heart and just sighing. I'm also a big fan of multiple POVs and the insight into each character.

Martyr in the Making by @eilidh-eternal - Ghost x Reader

I had a tattoo touch-up the other day, and while waiting, I thought about this fic: the dream and nightmare of being tattooed by Simon and the rest of the 141. It's a dream for obvious reasons (probably unhealthy for me) and a nightmare because of, well, you'll have to read the story. Getting a tattoo can be such an intimate experience. You put yourself into someone's care and get something permanently etched onto your body. When Reader sits for Simon, you're right there with her, the two of you on an altar.

Liquid Smooth by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Bodyguard!Gaz save me, save me, bodyguard!Gaz. Ugh, Gaz is fucking incredible in every flavor, but there is something that hits different about the guy when he's flexing those 'VIP protection' skills. There are several tiny moments in Liquid Smooth that made me audibly whisper, "God, I wish that were me." If you have a conifer tree allergy, you might not be able to handle the god-tier pining. (I'll see myself out.)

pornstar!Gaz by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Gotta include the series that I drop everything for whenever I see an update. Another fantastic depiction of best man Kyle Gaz Garrick. The charm, the jealousy, the care...My personal favorite installments are Whispers and Threesomes.

plus size puppygirl!reader / Simon & Reader / Punishment by @secretsynthetic - Price x Reader x Ghost

Ghost gets his Captain a puppy, and Synth gives us a tasty Price x Reader x Ghost story. I've linked the intro and a Simon x Reader snippet, but my personal favorite is Punishment. Punishment is a deeper dive into Price the disciplinarian: "how the hell do i get a mutt like you to fuckin’ listen?" I'd gush about it, but again, this is another one to read and experience firsthand. One of my favorite recent explorations of a PriceGhost dynamic.

~~

i'll probably cobble another one of these together in may 2024. my fic backlog is something else. i blame it on all the massive talent. mwah.

[billthedrake]

SUGAR DADDY (PART TWO)

The next day I was a little bit of a wreck. Still coming down from the high of my fantasy time with Mike Keenan. Sucking his cock. Kissing him. Enjoying the privacy and the deep conversation. I thought of texting him but decided that wouldn't be welcome. It hadn't been a date, it had ust been something that had happened. A combination of Mike taking pity on me and wanting to get his rocks off. We both got something out of it, but it was surely a one-time thing.

I had class that next morning and baseball practice that afternoon, then weightlifting. It was early evening when I got done and saw I had a text from Mike.

"Hi Luke, sorry no contact, I had a long day here. Enjoyed last night. Any chance for a repeat some time?"

My heart pounded. Maybe I was the one overthinking things. Mr. Keenan just wanted his cock sucked again.

"I'd love that," I wrote.

"Nice," came the reply. "You around to talk?"

I said good night to my buddies and told them I had to get back to study for a test. Then I texted a "yes" to Mike. A second later my phone rang.

"Hey," I said. God, I was majorly crushed out on the guy.

"Hey Luke," he said. His voice was sexy as fuck. "What are you up to?"

"Just getting out of practice. Bout to grab some dinner."

"I haven't eaten either. Want to come over? We can get dinner in the hotel bar."

"I probably need to change," I said. I was still in my workout clothes.

"I bet you look sexy as fuck," he growled. It was a trip to hear him lust for another man. "But take your time."

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't go to some fancy bar in my gym clothes."

"They don't give a fuck," he said. "But do what you feel comfortable with."

"All right," I said. "I'll text you when I'm on my way."

"Take an Uber," he said. "I'll pay."

"OK." Then I hung up. I was going to object, but I was eager to see the man. And truth be told I was hungry, real hungry. Maybe that's what made me decided to head right over, underdressed as I was.

"OK, I'm getting in my Uber," I typed to him five minutes later.

He sent a smiley face reply.

The man was in his suit, without tie, on one of the bar stools and his eyes lit up as I walked in. He had a smirk as I set down my backpack and pulled out the adjacent stool to sit. "I was right," he said softly. "Sexy as fuck."

I blushed. "I didn't think you went for guys that way," I whispered.

His blue eyes twinkled some as he patted my back. "No labels, remember?"

I was getting hard in my shorts. Unfortunately the thin fabric wasn't going to hide my boner, but fortunately, it was hidden by the bar. And my hunger was going to win out.

"The steak here is great," the man said as he handed me a menu.

"I dunno," I said as I looked over the option. "A burger is fine." Of course I was concerned about the price.

Mr. K could read me, though. "Get the steak," he grunted.

I felt a little chastised and said something I instantly regretted. "Is that how the Sugar Daddy treatment works?"

Mike gave me a quick glance then replied without missing a beat. "Buddy, you don't eye me up like a cash machine like those girls do. You don't know how nice a change that is."

I blushed and I felt his hand pat my bare thigh.

"I like that I can be honest with you, Luke, for real." His bossy tone was gone, replaced with the old Mr. Keenan charm.

I gulped. "I like being honest with you, too," I said. Until Mr. Keenan re-entered my life six months prior, I hadn't realized how rare it was I could be honest about things. I gave him a smile and saw him smile in return.

"Since I'm being honest," I started, but just then the bartender came over to take our order.

"Two steaks," Mr. Keenan said, ordering for me. "And another scotch and..." he turned to me.

"An IPA?" I asked. The bartender nodded and named off some brewery. Sounded good. We watched as he poured our drinks in front of us and placed them on the bar before going off to ring up our order.

"So..." Mike picked up. "Since you're being honest..."

I lowered my voice. "It's like I said before. You don't need to pay for anything, Mike. Or be a sugar daddy or anything."

He grinned. "There's always trade offs," he said. "And maybe I enjoy the control."

"Control?" I asked dumbly.

"If you're paying, you get your say in a lot of things," he said. He paused and watched me blush. "You think less of me."

"Honesty, right? You don't know how crushed out I am on you."

He smiled. "I have an idea. It's flattering." He took a sip of his scotch and looked over at me like a wolf eyeing up his prey. "I'm hoping you stay over tonight."

I was in over my head. Emotionally, but also with a man like Keenan. Decisive. "If you want, I will," I said.

"Good," he said, satisfied.

***

Mike Keenan surprised me that evening. After we ate and he paid the check, we went up to our room. We showered together, making out, feeling each other up. I was surprised how much this straight man was into my very male body and my cock. Well, he was probably bi and in any case had his no-labels motto. I was gonna embrace it.

Particularly as we made out on the bed, me beneath his middle aged, fit hairy body. I'd eventually find a real boyfriend, I knew, but I also knew it was going to be hard for any man to live up to hot how Mr. K was. His cock felt hard and even bigger as we humped our bodies together and kissed.

"So, Luke... you up for me being inside you?"

I nodded, hungrily. "God yeah, Mr. Keenan."

He grinned. "You have much experience?" That concern coming in.

"A couple of guys, yeah," I said. Then with deep candor, I added, "I wish you'd taken my cherry, Mike."

His voice got husky. "I've done anal a couple of times. With an ex-girlfriend."

His words made me actually break out into goosebumps. For some reason the idea of Mr. K doing some woman in the backdoor seemed kinky as fuck. But also the way he unmistakeably was communicating that he knew how to fuck me. "You liked it, I bet," I said with a lusty smile.

He nodded and winked just as he leaned up and knelt on the bed. His hardon looked magnificent, the thickness perfectly framed by his hairy, DILF-y body. I decided then and there I'd have a hard time sleeping with a man under 40. "Oh, yeah, buddy," he said. Then my body shivered again as I watched the confidence with which he picked up the lube he'd set out next to the bed. As he returned his focus, I pulled back my legs and spread them some, letting his slick hand in to lube up my hole. "It's probably my favorite thing. Hard to talk a woman into it, though."

"I can imagine," I hissed, enjoying the cool contact of the lubed finger on my ring. "I bet that costs extra huh?" Maybe that sounded accusatory, but from my tone it was clear that it was a joke, and Mr. Keenan picked up on that.

He laughed. "I don't hire hookers, but don't think I haven't thought about it." His cock jerked, and I was relieved that being with a dude seemed to work for him as much as fucking a chick.

He pressed in and worked me open some. "That feel OK, buddy?"

I looked at him excitedly and nodded. I kept expecting resistance as the man fingered me but there was none. At all. "Feels amazing Mr. K." My longtime nickname for him just slipped off my tongue, but the man seemed excited to hear it. His cock actually jerked.

He now slipped in a third finger, twisting me open and working in and out. "You're ready," he said, though I knew there was a questioning behind his assured tone.

"Yes, sir," I hissed.

Mike was horny, too, I realized as he scooted in to place and nudged his meaty cock right into place. I don't know the approach he took with women, but he angled his finger to let his prick push in just as he withdrew his hand. Kind of a shoehorn move that slid his meaty cock right into me. Three solid inches inside me in one go.

"There ya go," he said with satisfaction. Then he moved forward, his hips driving more meat into me, as he leaned his upper body forward. I was getting well and truly penetrated.

The thing was, my insides were starting their natural resistance, my guts clenching down on the invader and trying to repel it. Mr. Keenan mistook my discomfort for a natural stimulation of an ass on his cock. "That's goddamn nice, buddy," he hissed and like that he was kissing me, hard and possessively.

I met his tongue as well as I could, but there was something that clicked in me. I was a dude, a masculine dude. I didn't like to think of myself as feminine, and I got offended by the way people would associate gay sex with being feminized. And yet, I was pinned down beneath Mike Keenan and all I could think was to compare myself to those college chicks Mike banged. My hole relaxed around him and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Not slutty or anything, but damn I needed and wanted a Mike Keenan fuck.

He must have sensed the change but in any case pulled back from the kiss. "I guess I didn't even ask about protection," he hissed, his hips slowly pumping me.

"This is perfect, Mr. K," I growled. His dick was rubbing right over my prostate, not punching the button, but playing it like a violin string. It was a surprisingly new sensation for me.

The man liked my answer. He pulled back, further back, and pushed all the way. Then again. Not rushing it, but definitely claiming me with this cock. All the while his blue eyes bore down on mine. "How do you normally like it, Luke?" he asked.

I racked my brain. It was actually hard to think with the man's cock pressing in and out. And I'd only had a few experiences bottoming. "Slow, I guess," I replied. But then as I felt up the man's naked torso and strong arms, I wanted more. "But this is weird to ask... but I'd like you to show me how I like it."

THAT turned Mike on like crazy. "Yeah?" His nostrils flared. "I can do that buddy."

He pulled back and I felt his prick punch into me. In retrospect it probably wasn't rough, but I'd never been fucked with that much force. Then another. Slow, steady, and hard.

The fact that it was Rich's dad doing this drove me wild. I looked up into his handsome face and imagined him rough fucking some sugar baby who'd have to work for her apartment money.

"Shit!" I gasped. My prick was dripping already, a telltale sign that I was about to cum. I gripped it, just in time to let the pleasure boil to a full orgasm, all while Mr. Keenan pounded it out of me.

His own face was scrunching into a clear sign of pleasure. The man was ejaculating into my guts, and good.

"Well, fuck me," he sighed as he lay his forehead against mine. We lay like that, my hands on him and my legs wrapped around him. His more mature, fit body resting on top of me as he caught his breath. "Please tell me you liked that buddy," he hissed.

I felt weirdly emotional. I don't know, it wasn't just the crush I had on Mr. K. It was the hormonal rush on top of the mind fuck of having had such hot sex. "A little too much," I admitted.

That made him smile.

He finally leaned up and slid out of me, and off me. His dick was thick and plump but softening, and very wet. He looked down on me with a mix of surprise, paternal-like affection, and pride in conquest. I loved it all, and it was then that I realized I was hooked on the Mike Keenan experience.

"I thought I was pushing my luck asking you to meet me again," he said as he stepped off the bed and down some water from a water bottle. His middle-aged muscle was covered in a sheen of sweat. The man was sexy as fuck. His eyes barely left my nakedness. "But I guess not," he continued.

I felt all sorts of weird, and more than a little cheap now that the endorphins were wearing off. I sat up in bed, my hole feeling used and wet now. "You really do like being on control, don't you, Mike?"

My words caught him by surprise. "I guess I come on strong, huh?"

"A little," I admitted. "I should probably go," I said as I searched for my briefs.

"Will it make you feel better to stay over?" he asked.

It was my turn to be surprised. "You think I'm like a chick?" I asked. I wasn't sure I was upset he was stereotyping me as a gay guy. Or upset because maybe he was right.

"It's just a question, Luke," he replied. "I'll give you Uber money."

I swallowed my pride. "I'd love to stay. Sorry I was giving you grief."

He smiled. "It's fine buddy. I'm used to game playing. But you're a straight shooter. I like that." Then matter of factly, he added, "I get up early."

"That's cool," I said.

****

I gave Mr. K a blowjob early the next morning. And he stroked me off. I guess I was leaning toward being a bottom before Mike Keenan, but I'd never embraced the label. What the fuck, the man was making me realize the shoe fit.

I was happy and content all day. I kind of wanted a text from Mr. K, but I didn't need one. Even being young and naive, I knew I had to take this for what it was, or not at all.

Around 5:30 I got a text. "Dinner?"

I had a late game and plans with my buddies. "I'm tied up, Mike," I wrote. "Sorry."

"What time you done?" came that reply.

"I don't know. 10?"

"Come over then. You know the room number."

Maybe it should have rubbed me the wrong way, but it didn't. I was horny for this man. So bad.

Only after I replied with an OK, I got a Venmo alert. Mr. K had sent me money. Not an exhorbitant amount. But a lot.

Oh shit.

***

I was nervous as Mike ushered me in. The worst part was how fucking handsome he looked, even in his readers and plush hotel bathrobe. He didn't look exactly sleepy, but he seemed in a relaxed, tired state as he looked me up and down.

"Thanks for coming, Luke," he said. That easygoing charm I remember from going over to his place when I was visiting my buddy Rich.

"Sure," I said. Looking around, I wondered what it was like to live in a hotel like this a few nights a week, always being on the road. I smelled Mr. Keenan's cologne before I felt his hand on my shoulder and his warm body press against my back. Already he was kissing softly at my neck.

"Listen, Mr. K... can we talk about the money thing?"

His voice had a throaty growl. Maybe he'd been thinking all evening, all day about sex, because he seemed to be in a horny mode. "Sure. Was it not enough?"

"No, Jesus," I hissed, feeling his fingers already running beneath the hem of my T-shirt tracking my abs. "I don't need anything. For real."

OK, now his fingers stopped their seductive movement. I guess the man was getting it. "You offended?" he asked.

I blushed. "I dunno," I replied. "It didn't make me feel great."

I felt his breath against my neck. "You deserve the money more than Kimberly," he said. "Or the others. It's just a little something, Luke. Use it to have fun. Or save it for a rainy day."

I don't know how Mike Keenan was so persuasive a man, but he was. Maybe because those fingers are once again tracing up my abs and pulling my shirt with them. "Come on, buddy, let me see that hot baseball jock body," he urged.

I went with it. I knew I was good looking, and even if I had some bulking goals for the off season, I knew I had a solid body. But the fact Mr. Keenan was into it had me so turned on. I turned around to see a smile on his five-o-clock-shadowed face.

"Nice," he said, eyes sweeping up and down my build. "Lose the shorts, Luke," he said.

Mr. K had talked about enjoying being in control. I was now wrestling with the fact that I enjoyed being bossed around, at least by this man. I stepped back and undid my shorts, stripping down completely for him. I was rock hard.

My heart pounded as I watched Mike get a more serious look on his face, as his hands reached down to undo the tie on the robe. The white terry cloth flapped open to show off his furry fit torso and, beneath that, his thick boner. "Come on buddy," he said in a deep whisper, nodding down at his crotch in an unmistakable signal.

I gulped. I assumed my normal catcher's squat, a position which made my hard dick stick up at an angle.

"Fuck yeah," Mike said. He scooted up to offer me his prick. It was fat and veiny, and while not porn-long that dick was pretty damn big.

I leaned forward just an inch to start licking him. Top to bottom. Along his furry nuts. Tasting every inch of Mike Keenan. Maybe his relaxed vibe gave me the implicit permission to take my time.

Only by the time I actually began sucking him, working my mouth up and down on him and doing my best to coordinate suction and tongue along his shaft, the man was starting to get worked up.

"Easy there, buddy," he hissed, gently pushing me off his dick, which throbbed and jerked a little, wet with my saliva. "I almost blew there."

I grinned. I felt so fucking proud. I didn't have a ton of sexual experience and it was good to know I was doing something right to get Mike so close so soon. "Why don't you?" I asked, sitting back on my haunches and looking up at him. I was getting more confident in having sex with this older man.

He let out a heavy sigh, like he was fighting off the urge to do just that. A smile crossed his lips, though. "Guess I'm like a kid with a new toy," he explained.

It took me a second to get it. "You wanna fuck me again." Half statement, half question.

Mike nodded. "Been thinking about it all fucking day, man. Your ass is so fucking tight."

I knew this was a possibility, and I wondered if I should be giving my hole some rest. But I also knew it was going to be hard to turn down a Mr. Keenan fuck. I stood up, my dick riding that crest between pure excited hardness and nervous flagging.

"Ok if we kiss a little, Mike?" I asked feeling almost embarrassed to ask. "You know, make out a little?"

My buddy's dad nodded and grinned as he stepped up to me, placing his hands on my waist. "I guess I can come on strong, huh?" he asked.

God, feeling his dick press against mine and the heat and the soft-hard combo of fur and muscle against me was going to drive me wild. "Some, yeah," I admitted with a laugh. Then blushing, I added, "Part of me really likes it, but fuck it's intimidating too, you know?"

Mike didn't reply but just gave a sympathetic nod and leaned in for a soft kiss. We made out some, and it was incredible to feel the contrast between the gentle approach kissing and the mauling of his hands on my jock body, particularly my butt. Mr. K wasn't kidding about having a new toy. He seemed to really love my ass.

He walked me back to the bed and I went back down on the mattress with a motion of his that was between guiding and pushing. He quickly lost his bathrobe and joined me, covering my body with his older, more experienced one, feeling me up and kissing along my neck, my ear, my upper chest. Mike was in full-on horny mode and bring me there right with him.

Finally he lifted off and rolled to the side. His erection was dripping and rock hard and looked amazing against all that body hair. "All right buddy, get on all fours."

I was primed for Mike Keenan in full on control mode. I scrambled to do as the man asked, facing the headboard and feeling the man settle in behind me. Already his hands were cupping my glutes and feeling the smooth muscle.

"You got a hot fucking ass, Luke," he growled. He pawed at me another few seconds then reached for some lube. The first wet finger felt great, and went in pretty easy.

"You're looser today, buddy," Mike hissed. A second finger popped in.

"Yeah, probably," I responded. "After yesterday."

"I wanna keep you this way," came his deep voice. "Ready for me."

"Oh fuck, Mr. K," I whined. There was an edge to his tone that drove me wild. And as his prick pushed in, I felt a welcome pleasure, even with my residual tightness.

"Fuck yeah," Mike grunted as he felt my insides and pushed to bottom out. "Right back in the saddle."

His grip clenched roughly on my waist. Just as quickly as that thick cock pulled out, it barreled back in. And again. One hard thrust right after the other as Mr. K grunted deeply. "Ung. Ungh. Ung."

The man was fucking for his pleasure, not mine. Still I felt an excited thrill. I wouldn't say I enjoyed this nearly as much as the missionary mating the night before but it felt new to me. Animalistic and raw. I was hard even with the discomfort of the shafting.

Wham. Wham. Wham. That thick piece of hard dad meat was drilling steadily. Then the cadence went off. Mr. Keenan's rhythm was getting more spasmodic and jerky as he pounded me. Then I felt those fingers dig into my hips.

"FUCK!"

From his cry and the sudden stop of his thrusts, I knew the man was seeding me.

I loved every part of the experience, but I now regretted that I hadn't gotten off. The fuck had been too hard and too quick.

Thankfully I felt the man shift behind me and, prick still buried inside me, he leaned forward to press against, my back.

I loved the feeling of his kiss on my neck, but even more I loved the slickness of his palm as he wrapped his hand around my hardon. Mike didn't even need to do much. Just give slow soft pumps in and out of my guts while his fingers ran along my dick. I fired off, heavy and hard. I felt lightheaded when I came.

We were quiet as we uncoupled. The shame was coming back to me as I showered off. Shame that I enjoyed what others might see as a dominant, selfish fuck. Shame that there were funds in my Venmo account. Shame that I was falling for Mr. Keenan so hard. I knew I couldn't stay over in this hotel room, not tonight. I needed some space to think.

Mike had his robe back on. To this day a white terry bathrobe is a fetish for me. His tone was more serious. "You mad at me Luke?" he asked as he sat in the hotel chair and watched me get dressed.

I grimaced but shook my head no. "I didn't think I'd like sex that rough," I said softly.

I could see a sly grin from on his lips. But he continued. "I wasn't talking about the fuck."

God, the man could be intense, behind the suave businessman outgoingness and the friendly paternal vibe. It was like I was seeing the real Mr. Keenan. Intimidating, sure, but I also wondered if he had a hard time with real relationships. His marriage hadn't worked out, he was clearly estranged from his son, and he basically hired dates instead of having real girlfriends.

I paused, just holding the T shirt I was going to put back on. "Can I be blunt, Mr. K? You say you don't want a hooker, and yet have a way of treating me like one."

He was prepared for that. "You're not that, Luke. But I'm not ready for anything serious. I figure I can help you out, and you can help me out." He looked at me and could tell I still didn't get it. "Listen, it's not just sex. I love spending time with you buddy. You're a hell of a lot more fun than those sugar babies, I'll tell ya." He cracked a smile, and I had to as well.

"I guess," I said. Remembering Kimberly, I could imagine she'd be more work than fun.

My conciliatory tone made him happy, and I was glad to see the friendly Mr. Keenan return. "Well, it's just I don't always have the time or interest for all the other boyfriend bullshit. Checking in, looking after emotional needs, dealing with jealousy."

I gulped. I was starting to get a better picture of Mike. The side Rich hated. The side I should hate more.

He watched my reaction but continued. "I know that wouldn't be fun for you to deal with, so I want to make it worth your while."

"Make what worth my while?" I asked. Again, as persuasive as he was, I felt he kept talking around the sex part.

He laughed, almost amused at how astute I was. "Luke, I'm not going to pay you per sex act. Or per night. But..." his voice got conspiratorial. I wondered if he knew what that supportive dad-figure tone did for me, and just weaponized it to get his way. Honestly I think it just came naturally to him. "Well, bud, I'd love an arrangement when you're able to keep me company when I'm in DC." His blue eyes got an impish cast to them, and I knew he was in seal-the-deal mode. "I'm pretty sure we could have a lot of fun together."

"You wanna be my sugar daddy?" I asked, point blank. It's not that I was dumb, but I actually didn't think Mr. Keenan was outright going there.

He nodded. But his face had a caution to it. "Would it better if we ditched the labels?" he asked, a smirk on his face reminding me of his own no-labels policy.

"It would," I answered. Then. "OK if I think on it, Mike?"

"Of course," he said.

He stood up as I finished putting on my shoes. Seeing how handsome he was I almost asked if I could stay over again. But the vibe wasn't right for that.

As I made my way to the room door, Mr. K patted my shoulder. "You're a fine young man, Luke," he said. His fingers gave my muscle a little squeeze before letting go. "I mean that."

"Thanks, Mr. Keenan," I said.

***

The Uber ride was quick at that time of night. I'd have to come up with an excuse to my roommate while I was out again. I'd probably have to come up with a lot more excuses if I hung out more with Mr. K. Or, if he got me my own apartment, things would be easier. Meeting up with him. Having sex with him.

I pulled out my phone. I thought I'd hesitate before sending but I knew I knew my answer.

"You'll have to let me know how it works Mr. K," I texted. "But I'm in."

No labels. But if Mike Keenan was going to call himself my sugar daddy that was probably OK too.

I got a quick reply. "That makes me happy Luke. Talk tomorrow sexy."

I felt warm inside. Mike Keenan was going to make this worth my while. But I was determined to make it worth his, too.

[superfallingstars]

Personally I think jily is supposed to be idealized (like how James and lily were idealized) to Harry. James gets knocked of his pedestal in swm and so does jily by Harry questioning if his father forced his mother into marriage. Later when talking to lupin and Sirius James and Jily get a slight defense and Harry is back to feeling alright but with the knowledge that things weren’t perfect.

I personally don’t read Jily as abusive (even though I read James as being abusive to snape at school, but I don’t think that violent, physical behavior was extended to Lily) but I definitely don’t read them as a “good” couple (whatever that means). I think you can read it in many different ways given there is so little of them and I think an interpretation that their relationship wasn’t the healthiest is perfectly plausible with the scant information we’re given.

Yeahhhh that’s probably what JKR intended. James and Lily are the fridged parents who are dearly mourned and missed, and as a result, their flaws are completely smoothed over in everyone’s memories. But in Snape’s Worst Memory, Harry learns the hard lesson that things aren’t always what they seem, and that nobody is perfect, not even his dead father. Hurrah.

My problem with this is that I think it’s very boring, LOL. Like it really is probably exactly what JKR intended (given her middle-of-the-road takes on every moral and political question that happens in these books), but man, it feels like such a cop out. James basically ruins Snape’s life for no reason, and the conclusion we’re meant to draw from this is just, well, people are complicated! NO!!!! Bad answer!!! Like, Snape also did some terrible things, but at least he spends a ton of pages actively suffering/atoning for his sins. But James, on the other hand, is only somewhat implied to have changed maybe slightly a little bit somewhere off-page, and we just have to take #1 James Potter fanboy Sirius Black and serial understater Remus Lupin at their word. So if James was supposed to be “redeemed” – or even just excused – wow, it really doesn't work for me. You can't go as dark as "protagonist questions if his father forced his mother into marriage" and then just brush it off like no big deal, Joanne! And it’s so frustrating, because all it would've taken to fix this would've been to show James being a good person instead of just telling the reader that he was one (proof: trust me?). Ugh.

So because of all that, I agree that from what we’re given, it’s quite difficult to read Jily as “good.” We rarely see them interact, and when we do, James’s behavior is wayyyy too similar to the trope of “terrible guy eventually gets the girl even though she seems to hate him with every fiber of her being because his persistence and not taking no for an answer is just toooo romantic to resist.” Which sucks, lol. It feels like JKR is basically being like, “eh, James was young and dumb, whatever” and giving him a huge out for all the grief he caused Snape (and Lily, for that matter) – and she expects that the reader will agree that that is a legitimate excuse for his behavior, and by extension think that it's reasonable for Lily to forgive and eventually marry him. And man, I am just not sure if that is enough to convince me. (And evidently, I'm not alone, considering the “Jily is abusive” meta post that likely sparked this ask!)

With that said, I agree that it’s a stretch to say that James was abusive (or even implied to be abusive) toward Lily. It’s not a completely unfounded take – it could probably be written well in a fic, and even be canon compliant – but you would really have to extrapolate that dynamic from the little information we’re given (as you pointed out). And more importantly (at least, re: that meta), I don't think JKR intended that interpretation at all.

Personally, I just don’t think it makes sense for the narrative for James and Lily to have been in an abusive relationship. And by the narrative, I mean Harry. If Jily is an abusive (or even just bad) relationship, that would have massive ramifications for the way Harry sees his parents. Ideally he would have to come to terms with that at some point – I don’t think it makes sense for James’s and Lily’s relationship to have been this way and not have significantly affected Harry – but imo JKR clearly does not want to deal with that. Like you said, the point of SWM – aside from foreshadowing Lily and Snape’s relationship – was to knock James off his pedestal and basically go, See, nobody’s perfect. <3 And the story is not interested in engaging with James’s behavior on a level any deeper than that lol. Which ok, I don’t love it, but if we’re not going to spend time dealing with morally gray James, then it doesn’t make sense for him to be even more morally gray (or rather, have him fall face first over the line into becoming a downright despicable person) by making him abusive toward Lily.

So that's my Doylist analysis: no way in hell did JKR intend Jily to be an abusive relationship, but she also didn't do a good enough job defending and/or redeeming James after SWM, so we're just left to speculate about how much he really changed. Still, I don't think "JKR is a bad writer" is a very satisfying answer. After all, the only reason that I'm engaging with this text in the first place is because I'm a fan of it, so I think it's also worth looking at it from a Watsonian perspective – or at least, to accept the events of the book as they're written and try to fill in the blanks. (Imo so much of the fun of fandom is trying to fill in those blanks in a satisfying way, to expand upon a character and try to reach a more interesting conclusion than the author did... And I would be remiss not to mention that, because it undoubtedly influences the way that I (and probably also you, if you're on this side of tumblr) engage with the text.)

So for me, as a Marauders era fan, I’m faced with: ok, I don’t really like the idea of these two characters together, but they canonically got together, and I think the story is better because they got together, and it’s better if they genuinely like each other, and it all had to happen somehow – so how can I explain it in a way that both makes sense with the story and is satisfying to me? And my answer to that is twofold.

First, I imagine that James was not always quite such an awful guy (as in, not always as showy, combative, and cruel as he was in SWM). After all, there is a glimmer of goodness in him when he chooses to save Snape’s life during the Prank, revealing that somewhere deep down, he does in fact have a moral compass. And second, I think that he has to have changed. And I mean a genuine change – one that might not have resulted in completely different behavior (after all, he was still hexing Snape through his seventh year) – but regardless, something that makes him seriously reflect on his actions and reconsider his motivations. His behavior in SWM is just too inexcusable for him to get with Lily – partly because Lily is generally framed as a Very Good Person, and partly because regardless of how she is framed, James was still awful to her – without any self-reflection or growth. Of course, the problem then becomes explaining this in a satisfying way!

And I have some ideas in mind – but they’re definitely more speculation than fact, and omg this post is long enough already. Luckily, I received another ask on this topic, so I will save my self-indulgent headcanons for that.

There is one last thing I want to mention, which is (part of) my reasoning for why James may not have been such a bully all the time and why I think he has the capacity for change, and it's been nagging at me ever since I read that meta post (which again, presumably started this whole thing). I think one thing that bothers a lot of people (including me!) about James is that it seems like he chooses to pick on Snape in SWM because of Lily’s presence. He wants to show off to her, so he keeps looking over to the girls by the water, he ruffles his hair, he deepens his voice, and he tries to get her attention by targeting Snape. Following this logic, we can presume that James wouldn’t have done any of this if Lily hadn’t been there – and that’s the part that got me thinking. I have to wonder if Lily was perhaps not the only person who James wanted to impress in that scene… in fact, I think it’s incredibly likely that James would have acted differently if the Marauders hadn’t been there! (Harry has "the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off," and Sirius saying that he's bored is the inciting incident for James spotting Snape...!) Yes it’s going to be a James masculinity analysis because this is what happens every time I talk about these fucking characters apparently. So idk, stick around if you’re into that.

And of course, thank you for the ask!

[lilybug-02]

The HK comic was very sweet and wholesome and I loved every second of reading it! :3

Also does Dewi give hornet back her thread? Im pretty sure she needs that for silksong when that eventually releases lol

Also to go off on an unrelated tangent/rant, people have been supposedly like up in arms about how "Silksong will never release!" and how "Its taking FORVEVER to come out!" But like.... First of all, its and indie studio. Secondly It was only announced in 2019, which, yeah, was 5 years ago, but with the way people were describing it I thought it was announced like way earlier. And hollow knight was released in 2017, but the way people talk about it makes me think its like a classic from early 2000's or something. Sure, its a good game, but why are people so stuck on the Silksong thing? Like at least you're pretty sure you're probably gonna get a full game when it releases. With other communities/fandoms you'd be lucky to get even an announcement. Like Deltarune for example. Not even Toby Fox was sure he was gonna be able to do it in the first place lol. And if you think 5 years is bad of a wait, imagine waiting for a new LITERALLY ANYTHING WHATSOEVER from Bethesda that isnt the 100th re-re-release gold ultra plus edition of fucking Skyrim again but now on the fucking smart watch or whatever. I'm 90% sure that most of Bethesda's existance as a company has been spent making something for Skyrim instead of working on anything new or original.

Sorry for the random rant btw

Anyways love your art, have a nice day, kay bye imma go die of awkwardness in the corner :)

First off thank you very very much. I am so glad to hear how much you like the Hollow Knight comic. And to answer your question, Hornet allowed Dewi to keep that thread. She gave it to him as a peace offering for helping the bugs get back home and to lead Dewi through the maze like cave. Don't worry, she has PLENTY of thread back in Hallownest.

And regarding the impatience of Silksong. I get it. I am the very lucky few to get into the game NOW. I haven't had to wait as long as the many other people waiting for Silksong to release, and in that regard I am quite spoiled. Yeah, Deltarune won't fully release in at least another 5 years, but I wouldn't want to say I'm morally better for my "patience". Waiting for a game or any kind of media SUCKS. The fandom keeps it alive, but even those can grow stagnant. As long as you aren't harassing the creators or fans of the project, you can be as angry or frustrated or sad as you want. I think it's normal and can help others feel less alone in their feelings as well.

Not to say your points of contention above aren't relevant!!! Patience and kindness are always important to keep in mind with artistic projects. Art is HARD and can be very taxing. I hope I'm not dampening your message. ❤️ Thanks for sharing

[mikobeautifulheart]

Hey I liked that fic you did on pervy megumi ❤ could you do it with yuji but make it a little sweeter ❤❤ty

Ahh I'm sorry this took so long because for the first time in history this is slightly more edited. I tried sweeter but honestly at this point I think i'm incapable of affection. I tried *sigh* sorry bout that.

Pervy Yuji (thoughts)

TW: pervert. Obsessed (Mildly) Some weird non consented touches but not smut. (or spicy sorry guys.)

No surprise that Yuji just can't get enough of you.

Every moment, ever opportunity, he takes it.

Y/N wanna train together? Y/N wanna study together?

Y/N Gojo sensei is making us pick partners for the sister school even, wanna be mine?

Its not just being together but also distance.

The fact that every training session ends a little too close together.

"Yuji your squishing me." You muffled trapped under Yuji's body...again.

"Ah sorry Y/N! I lost my footing there and couldn't keep my balance."

Out of training to.

"Sorry Y/n the train is getting a little crowded" he said trying to hide his face in his collar.

"Its not your fault Yuji"

Every bump of the train you felt his hand on places you usually would hit someone's hand away from... Good thing he looked so innocent or you wouldn't have brushed it off so easily.

But every time you brushed it off. Yuji is just trying his best you know? He's Sukuna's vessel and never even knew about curses until now, you had to cut him some slack.

Even if it had nothing to do with the Jujutsu world.

"Hey Yuji, did you happen to get my laundry by accident? I can't find it anywhere and Megumi said you were there last."

"Oh uh I can check but if it's not here do you need help looking?"

"Uh- thanks but no, its just some...it would be embarrassing I guess. You know what never mind I probably just misplaced it again sorry." You sigh and walk out the room.

It happens more often then you liked. Some clothes of yours would go missing and then you would find them where you last left them or in a basket near the laundry.

If only you checked his lower dresser draw filed with some of you clothes.

When they lose their scent they get put back and so the cycle continues.

"Your sick. And that's coming from me. The king of curses, I kill and eat people and i'm telling you your sick ha." Sukuna chuckled in his head.

"Shut up. Like you would understand." Yuji said climbing down from a tree across from your window.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: Omg I wrote this so long ago but it didn't save. But it's okay because I re-wrote it and it's way better now. Trust me (even tho the ending sucks a bit). Anyways have a good whatever time of day.

[ughgoaway]

my favourite fics and writers

hi, y'all!! so I've decided that this year, I want to be more appreciative of all the amazing content we have on this app, and thank the writers providing it. this was inspired by Lily (lastnightwaskindofablur) who shared how long it took her to write her series, and it made me realise how much time and love are poured into these fics.

so this list is basically everyone im following, and my favourite piece of writing from them! I don't think I've forgotten anyone, but if I have IM SO SORRY!! if I am following you- I'm obsessed with you.

anyway, so sorry for tagging 1000 people but I love and appreciate you all so much!!

(so much rambling below the cut)

@64yrsold; “aches” is amazing and “wintering” is heartbreaking in the best way. Also, all of their one-shots are just amazing, I could read them over and over again!!

@yourtouchismidas; “ruins” was one of the first fics that had me checking AO3 every day for updates. truly heartbreaking and all-encompassing. and all the blurbs from it are also amazing. The dad! Matty content mixed with the angst is just so well done.

@abiiors; is not only one of the nicest people on this app (and maybe the world) but also one of the most talented writers. so so many amazing fics that honestly, don't even get me started on bc I will talk for HOURS. but “haunt//bed” is one fic I can't stop coming back to. And “Three’s a Party” is… mind-numbingly good, it actually made me scream into a pillow when I read it for the first time. Vee also creates all the amazing 75 Tumblr activities so really she is to thank for SO MUCH content on here!! one of the kindest people I know, and I feel so lucky to call her my friend :)))

@shinycollarboneapologist; was the blog where I started rambling and sharing ideas, so she is to thank for all the friends I've made on here!!! The Taylor verse is PHENOMENAL and “illicit affairs” is a fav. but “clandestine” has invaded my brain so much I literally dream about it regularly... so I have to say that's my no.1

@imagine-that-100; I first discovered her series "Drunk” on ao3 and then promptly binged everything on her masterlist (multiple times...) “Chicken Shop Date” is just a masterpiece (she and her co-writer are AMAZING on this and I will ramble about her later), but my personal fav is “truth serum”. I have probably read that fic about 50 times over and I love it just as much every time!!!

@heyidkyay; I first read “Who Can Say No to Bridezilla?” and became obsessed on ao3. but then I found them on Tumblr and was completely sucked into "I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name" which is quite possibly the best George series on here. so much character building and back story, and overall just a phenomenal fic.

@justlikemebutsixfootthree; has some of the best smut on this app,” The Birthday Party” is probably my most re-read because it is just an absolute masterpiece. but “insane” and “direction” are also both amazing.

@imightgetbetter; was one of the first blogs I discovered on here, and I fell in love with the whole “Love It If We Made It” series. such an amazing development of a relationship and their writing is AMAZING. but my absolute favourites have to be “Bets are off” and “I love dilfs.”

@butyou-callmewhenyourebored; has such good Ross content all around, truly providing for the Ross girlies!!! but the Leeds au blurb 1 is my fav from them!

@drivelikeiido; has some beautiful fluff, and I just love the way they write Matty. but (not so) important decisions just make my heart warm like nothing else!!!

@toomuchracket; my beloved mads!! the fun wine aunt of 1975 Tumblr. I mean I could talk for 17 pages about my love for all of her au's... birthday party is the perfect supportive husband, d-word is the best slutty old man content on this app lol and flatmate is the friends-to-lovers content we all yearn for. asking me to choose my favourite Mads fic is like choosing a favourite child, but right now it has to be totally wrecked. I think that has altered my brain chemistry in an indescribable way… (edit; since writing this she has put out possibly my no.1 fic of all time, “and this is how it starts” so I just had to mention how much I fucking adore it)

@lottiecrabie; I mean... what else is there to even say about Lottie other than she is one of the best writers I have ever read. truly the mother of 1975 Tumblr. “rockstar girlfriend” and “pray for my soul” both have such special places in my heart, but anatomy au locked a new section in my brain fr. that little loser lives in my head rent free!!!

@tillthelandslide; is so so kind and has some amazing series I would recommend to EVERYONE. “insufferable asshole” is one of my absolute favourites, I love a grovelling man what can I say!!! but “Same for You” has me flipping sides every chapter, I still can't choose if I'm team Ross or team Matty.

@lastnightwaskindofablur; what more can I sat about the whole ATPOAIM universe other than it is quite literally phenomenal. the amount of time and effort poured into the Brittany Jackson universe is so clear by how amazing each fic and blurb is. my absolute favourite thought is "Christmas isn't cancelled (just you.)" from the 12 days of Christmas. it is easily one of my favourite fics I've read!!! She is also the whole inspiration behind this list and made me realise how important thanking your favourite writers really is.

@cowboylor; ohmyLORD the smut on this blog is just... wowowoowowowow. actually made me nervous to attempt smut because of how good theirs is. "Cabin Fever" is probably my favourite, I love a good threesome fic.

@alovesreading; the other half of the JAW DROPPING series that is “Chicken Shop Date”. the hours that have been put into that fic are so clear in how well thought out it is. every word feels purposefully placed, and every chapter fucking HITS. A also writes amazing fics for Alex Turner and is slowly making me an Alex girlie just by how good her writing is...

@bookish-strawberry; such such good fics in the "You and Me Till the End Universe". Ambrose has just created such loveable characters and you can't help but adore his writing. “alleyway” pt 1 and 2 are my favourites, I do love some fwb content.

@hypersonic04; her teacher Ross universe is just great, every blurb and fic just radiates the love between the characters that she has created!! but my absolute favourite fic of hers has to be "Tis the damn season", it somehow made me love one of my favourite songs even more.

@cryley; her “Petichor” series is just fluffy perfection, I have probably read it over 10 times and will 1000% be reading it at least 10 more...

@cows-wearing-my-sweater; has some amazing one-shots, and his work on “Eternal Summer” is absolutely beautiful. she manages to make you feel the warmth of summer through a screen, and it's fucking beautiful. 

@thefrontofmymind; has so many great matty fics/imagines, “Helping Hand” jumps out easily as my favourite though. Once again, friends with benefits is ALWAYS gonna slap. especially when they confess their feelings at the end!!!! ahhh so good. “Proof Positive” is such a good Ross fic, if you like pregnancy fics I would HIGHLY recommend it.

@uramilf; did the 12 days of Christmas last year, and every day was amazing!!! But £The Record Shop” is my favourite series from her, love and music combined are too perfect for me not to adore.

@3terna15unshin3; Marcey's fic "then because she goes" had me refreshing ao3 DAILY. este is such a well-rounded and beautiful character, her and Matty's love makes me so lovesick it's CRAZY. that whole series is my favourite, and my fav blurb from that universe is Toothbrush. Este and Matty are so beloved by me <333

@because-she-goes; has an amazing universe with Matty and an OC that I adore, Nora is such a lovely character and every fic about them makes me giddy. "black lace" and "Summer Girl" are my favourites of their fics though!

@theseventyfive; has such a way with words, every fic makes me giggle and kick my feet. but if you saw my tags on my reblog of "not so secret Santa" you know how deeply I adore that fic. the writing on it is beautiful and makes you feel warm somehow??? amazing.

@wrongendofurcigarette; George girlies it's your time to shine!!!! "sun-soaked" and "wet" swirl in my mind whenever I see a pic of George looking... particularly good. but recently she has created an actress reader au that I am BUZZING for. that little snippet was... wowowowowowowow

@automaticllamacycle; OLIVE!!!!! once again, such a nice and genuine human being and I am so so lucky to chat with her because she is the best hypeman EVER. and is amazing to bounce ideas off of. just such a kind person and I am blessed to scream to her over DM. her coffee shop AU might be my most-read fic ever. it was my daily routine at one point to wake up, go to AO3 and read that fic. when part 2 came out???? I DIEDDDDDDD. but also all of olives horny thoughts are... MUWAH chefs kiss.

@red---moon; "after party" is another fic I read regularly on ao3, sleepy matty after a party with flirting and then smut??? hellooooo yes please. also, “Souvenir” as a series is just amazing, so so so good.

@maxverstappensflatbrim; “show me yours” is such a beautiful universe, and has SO MANY CHAPTERS for you to become obsessed with. I just love every character in that universe, and Mac’s writing is amazing.

@justanamesstuff; “All I Need” is such an amazing series, and I would recommend it to anyone who loves Dad! Matty content!! But all her blubs are worth reading too!!

@procrastinatinglikeapro; is so so sweet and has some absolutely mind-blowing fics. I must have read her entire masterlist 10 times over at this point. Choosing a favourite is hard, but “Does it matter” as a series has me HOOKED. (but also I love “mango lipgloss” and “wear my name around your neck”… don't make me choose okay)

@wrestletotheground; has some absolute BANGERS that everyone MUST read. Once again, the ross-tent on this blog is amazing. “Crime and Punishment” is my fav Matty fic from them, and she absolutely killed it with “Settle Down” for Ross!!

@mybrokenveins3000; college ross SUPREMACY!!! She is right when she says she is proud of “everyday rockstar” because it's easily my fav!!

@steel-elle; beautiful writing with everything she does, but my favourite has to be “But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong, or we're making mistakes” (is this also because I love the song New Year's Day?? perhaps…)

@kscheibles; “e la vita” is so stunning I don't even know how to verbalise it. That fic has a portion of my heart FOREVER. But college bf! Matty is truly the man we all deserve, and I am obsessed with him.

@think0fmehigh; molly!!! My love!!! What else is there to say about Molly other than she might be my fav filthy smut writer on this app, and thats a tough competition. Every time I get a snippet in DM’s from her, I feel like one of the luckiest human beings alive. Molly does not have a bad fic (despite her protests im sure) but my top two (because I CANT CHOOSE JUST ONE) have to be “Birthday Girl” and “You Get Me So High.” but honestly if you have the time, bless your life by reading every word she's ever written.

@controlmyfeet; DAD MATTY FIC. thats all I even need to say, it is SO SWEET and it makes me so happy!!!!

@bfiaflbox; sooooo much good content, but my favourites are “Wintering” and “Tonight I Wish I Was Your Girl” !!

@nowshesdoingitallthetime; kirke. This is me BEGGING for more bartender matty!!! “Cocktails, Cowboys and back alleys” is MWUAH MWUAH MWUAH. Bartender Matty is a need, I adored every second of that fic.

@wiintring; I NEED more from Christina!!! Her writing is all wonderful, and “Come here dressed in black now” does live in my mind!!! 

@grocerystorelist; “body of Christ” is made for the religious trauma girlies and the fleabag girls. PREIST MATTY DRIVES ME CRAZYYYYY. Leila is so talented, it's crazy.

@forcryingoutlloud; wowwowwowwow the smutty content on this blog… its sooooooo good. “Beg for it” and “greedy” did melt my brain in the absolute best way, like I was genuinely SWEATING at how hot it was. As is everything on her masterlist!!

@hrryshoney; gyno! Matty unlocked a whole new side to me that I had NO IDEA was there. Like… insane. And the newest photographer reader fic also drove me CRAZY because I do love a cocky fictional man and some semi-public sex…

@the1975attheirverybest; Halla’s blog is a great place for discussion, good writing and crazy intelligent analysis of the band. “Education” and “being funny in a foreign language” are just… art. Truly. The character of Amelia and the characterisation of Matty are some of my favourites on this app. Hot smut, good writing and a lovely human being- what else do you need hellooo?? (also the pegging blurb from ages ago… yeah I think about her A LOT.)

@sugar-coat-it; FILTY, AMAZING SMUT. literally, every piece on Belle’s masterlist is worth reading 100 times over. Her newest thigh-riding blurb has been rotting my brain, I can't stop going back to it and reading it. Also, the Kylo Ren fic… mask kink unlocked fr. and the matty helping you deepthroat fic is also incredible. (can I just name everything she's done orrr???)

@cinomn; Nina has some great content, and I would genuinely recommend anything!! My favourite has to be “Summer Nights”, but it's a TOUGH competition tbh!!

@noacfslut; THE WRITING SPEED ON THIS BLOG?? MIND BOGGILING. And not only is Elle speedy, but every fic all absolutely wonderful. “Jealousy jealousy” and “undo” are my favourites, but that might change when I get the chance to read her mechanic au, because from what I've heard, it's also extraordinary.

[unconventional-user]

Statuesque

I'm crawling out the sewers to re-introduce myself. Plus new blog yay!

König and Reader are relatively almost the same height SO I DONT WANNA HEAR NO CANON THAT READER IS 5 FOOT SOMETHING NO THEYRE LIKE 6'5 HELL PROBABLY EVEN TALLER-

Anyways, as you can tell I know nothing about the military nor COD, only what I've read and seen. Shoot me. Reader is intended to be gn overall but correct me in case.

pairing: könig x tall!reader 

• warning(s): uhhhh idk, kinda sucks? (I tried)

• word count: 2.7k

* This work was created by @unconventional-user, no re-post(s), you may, however, re-blog. Thank you. *

'How tall are you?'

'Are you a basketball player?'

'Do you wear heels?'

'How's the weather up there?'

These questions were a constant occurrence whenever leave took place. It was a reminder how annoying and entitled people were at times.

Luckily, deployment had come quickly most times, so you wouldn't have to deal with them often.

It's not like there was anything to head back to when 'off duty' anyway.

Parents were several countries overseas as well as other family, friends, and folk. So being called back often wasn't a rare occurrence nor was it annoying...

After joining the Air Force, it was expected of your squadron to work alongside certain groups. You happened to be the lucky few that helped aid the Special Air Services pretty often. It was mainly with transports as well as to help fly troops on missions.

It was nice. Some of the best times honestly.

Britain was a really cool place too.

But the constant travelling back and fourth, US to UK kind of left this uncertainty of which place was your 'true' home.

Almost like an identity crisis sort of.

So after some thinking and request of separation, you moved countries alongside joining the British Army.

Many more years later you're a part of the Special Air Services.

You could say the years in the Air Force might've helped a bit by leaving such positive feedback to them when SAS asked about their new soldier.

Judging from their background, they described as if the "golden child" for helicopter pilots was amongst them:

A once in a lifetime.

A relic of some sorts.

A phenomen.

According to them, you knew how to maneuver the damn chopper 'as if you built it yourself'.

Thus becoming a well recognized name amongst the special forces more specifically.

You'd like to thank the impeccable flying skills for landing you on such a radar.

Still, most of your work went unnoticed the first couple of years in SAS til' they eventually caught someone's eye later on:

"That's some amazing skills there—hello, we haven't met. My name is Kate."

The communication analyst would keep in touch with you after that. She claimed a specific task force officer asked for your wings.

"You know how to maneuver a helicopter better than anyone I've seen in a while. And I'm not the only one who's seen you in action."

Years pass after that, you're still on par with transporting soldiers and the Task Force 141, means you must be doing something right…right?

Shaking off the commotion of thoughts, you drove till the view of a familiar, bordered gateway appeared.

Upon entry, it was time to head over to your station.

-

Some inspections and loadings later, a shout was heard from afar. Turning towards the culprit, it was none other than Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish.

"Long time no see, aye bonnie?"

Leaning against the rails of the helicopter, he gave a smile. In return you gave one back as you finished clearing the aircraft as: PASS.

"Good afternoon, Sergeant," you chuckled, "I believe I saw you yesterday."

Ignoring the matter-of-fact, he continued on, "Call me Soap. Remember, yer one of us."

Smiling awkwardly, you pretend to re-inspect one of the throttles once again.

To be 'considered' a part of task 141 was…a weird feat or way to put it overall. You were in their squadron as their pilot, but you weren't necessarily with them. You weren't a part of their briefings or any of that.

You were separate from them.

The only one who really 'considered' you as part was Sergeant MacTavish.

Not to say the others were assholes or something. Lieutenant Ghost often would brief a 'good job' or 'nice maneuvering' to you once in a while.

Sergeant Garrick and Captain Price also acknowledged you from time to time, always greeting when deemed necessary.

To put it into simple words…they like your flying skills. You're like a designated pilot for them sort of.

'Way to make it sound like you're just a chauffeur-'

Shaking the thoughts aside once more, you focused on what Johnny said.

"Come again, Sergeant?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head but repeated himself once more. He always found you cute yet attractive. A true bonnie. These small actions never ceased to add to his attraction towards you.

Plus, he liked them tall. He could only imagine you in heels now…

"Wait…so you guys are gonna team up with a whole 'nother group for the mission?" You asked.

Great. Now he had to shake his thoughts aside. Clearing his throat, Johnny nodded.

"Price got told he needed backup for this one. Apparently it's too risky to go alone."

"Sounds rough."

"Aye, Ghost ain't too fond of the idea either."

Didn't look like he was too happy about the situation as well.

Nodding, you understood the lieutenant's 'worry' about being aided by a private contractor unit. Another responsibility and potential liability overall.

Trying to look on the bright side of things, at least they'll be more careful.

"Well…better safe than sorry, right? Plus you guys won't be so bored on the ride there!" You internally cringed at your feeble attempt to cheer the man up.

Hey, at least it made him laugh though.

"Ye ready to deal wit' another crew of dafties 'en, bonnie?"

Laughing, you closed the door to the aircraft.

"I'll see you in a bit, las."

-

The briefing ends; said Austrian begins heading towards the designated lockers.

Kortac had been called back by the SAS, unsurprisingly. They’d worked alongside the particular military service before (more than a few times).

The report claimed a certain special ops unit would need some assistance on an important mission. The team was ordered to help aid as a “battering ram” of sorts, both pre and post mission.

Of course they knew just who to send alongside for additional aid to the team.

König rolled his eyes, slamming the locker in frustration. He really didn’t want to be here at all. In his eyes, he was assisting a potential enemy. The SAS wasn’t necessarily a foe to KorTac, but it’s not like they were allies either.

So case in point (to König), he was being forced to help the potential enemy.

There were other soldiers sent alongside König. One of them looked over at him, an eyebrow raised, “Alles gut?”

König looked over at the soldier and said nothing, hood completely concealing his annoyed face. He’d rather be anywhere else than here if he’s being honest.

Heading towards the helipad, where he’d meet the rest of his ‘team’ mates, König tripled checked his tactical gear on him before stepping onto the designated helicopter.

His eyes narrowed onto a familiar face—or rather a mask—he had met before. Ghost simply responded back to König’s hostile stare vice versa. Neither said anything, but sat on opposite sides of one another.

No mind was paid to the rest that got onto the helicopter, except for Sergeant MacTavish, who made his entrance known with a hearty laugh followed by an annoyed looking Sergeant Garrick.

After the rest got settled in, Captain Price stood center and went over some key details again, mainly about KorTac’s assistance on the mission. König felt someone’s eyes on him as a chill ran along his neck. He turned his head and saw the same soldier from earlier at the lockers move to sit next to him. Said soldier looked away nervously to avoid the blue eyes.

Komisch. König narrowed his eyes in confusion, but remained silent overall. He felt the soldier lean in, “Is this your first time working with them?” They then gestured their head towards Task force 141. König didn’t acknowledge them and remained quiet. Looking away, he ignored the huff of the—now annoyed— soldier.

“Ist mir doch...”

König ignored the subliminal guilt he felt by acting like he didn’t hear the soldier’s mutterings. Trying to distract himself, he re-checked his tactical gear.

Knife is attached to his side. His tourniquet was in place, perfectly positioned if needed. He had 2 extra stocks on his left thigh—

Thoughts were interrupted as 2 pairs of feet stepped onto the helicopter and the doors were closed. König looked up and he swore he heard himself swallow back a gulp. Thank whatever is up there that he had his hood concealing his face. König could feel his face becoming warm.

Completely ignoring the other pilot officer greeting the team, his eyes focused on you.

Who were you?

You seemed to be standing at almost—if not the same—height as König,

He absolutely loved that.

Eyes fell onto your hands, noticing the lack of a band surrounding it, which he also seemed to love.

He was unsure if he had a visceral reaction to your presence but it felt like when people saw color for the first time. He felt the need to hide his flustered face (even though the hood already does that for him).

Du siehst bezaubernd aus.

He thought, eyes not leaving your form.

As you and the other pilot head towards the cockpit, he couldn't help but ponder.

Was that what many consider ‘love at first sight'? Him? In love?

The idea seemed almost laughable, mainly because he didn't think he could ever imagine him even having the courage to even attempt to pursue someone. Let alone have someone finding him worth being with.

König (sadly) broke his stare by looking at the soldier who jabbed his shoulder. Bothered, he turned towards them with narrowed eyes.

Grinning, the soldier commented, "As they say in America; statuesque."

-

Stepping towards the helicopter, you could feel your mind calm down. You knew exactly what to do. Tis the moment. You're in the zone.

Ew. That’s literally so cheesy.

You thought as you covered your hand to hide the growing smile.

Your co-pilot turned over at you, “Everything ok?” he asked, confused.

Putting a hand down, you nodded, “Yep. Just…thinking of something.”

He gave you an odd look but didn't perpetuate any further, simply muttering under his breath, “...How’d I get stuck with the tall weirdo?”

You pretend not to hear that, letting out a sigh and stepping onto the helicopter.

The co-pilot flashed everyone a tight-lipped smile as eyes fell onto him first, “Proud to be working with everyone here.” But eyes quickly fell onto the person looming over him.

That person being you.

With a flashed smile and wave, you greeted them, “I’m going to be your eyes in the skies today.”

The assisting team nodded a ‘Yes Officer’ your way. Nodding to the group, you observed them until one of them caught your eye.

The moment your eyes landed on the gentleman in the hood suddenly time had stopped, not noticing when he looked back either. His eyes widened whilst looking like he had choked on the air or something.

He looked a little bit taller than you—only a little—which almost never happens.

He was also oddly cute (considering he had a full on sack over his head).

Suddenly self conscious about appearance, you straighten up and try to hide the blush apparent on your face. If it's obvious, nobody dares say anything.

It probably didn't help that he was staring back at you as well. Interlocked, neither breaking eye-contact till the soldier next to him nudged his shoulder.

Luckily, you were able to gather yourself and head into the cockpit. It seemed like the others had disappeared, leaving only you and him. But you surged on, unaware of eyes following your direction.

Finally out of sight, you were able to find your footing and headed towards the left.

Your co-pilot sat to your right.

Alright, it’s go time.

Snorting, you muttered, “...still so cheesy.”

“Huh?” the co-pilot turned.

“Nothing!”

-

It was finally over. The mission was done. You could feel the relief washing over as you were able to land on the helipad again.

No casualties (thankfully), except for 2 soldiers who were grazed by bullets. One of them being Ghost, who had apparently saved one of the other soldiers who were shot.

You still remembered upon landing to reach them on the field, Ghost was angrily dragging the other wounded soldier by the vest, holding his shoulder in the process.

One soldier yanked out a med kit as another snatched them away from the lieutenant.

The shouting could be heard from the cockpit as you flew away. You and your co-pilot ignored it and continued to flee the warzone.

As you were able to land, you slowly started feeling at ease.

Even though you’ve been flying for years, the adrenaline and anxiety was still the same every time.

The difficulty was always trying to shake the feeling of nerves off. A good cigarette always seems to ease them away. Speaking of which…

You reached into your lower back pocket; you cursed when you didn’t feel any familiar shaped boxed. Must’ve left the pack in your locker. Luckily, it wasn’t too far.

Headed towards said lockers, someone had walked next to you. Upon looking, no words were exchanged as you were side-to-side with the extremely tall soldier.

You expected him to say something. He didn’t. Simply continue to walk.

You decided to do so instead.

“Hello.”

The hooded man faced you this time with flat eyes. You stopped walking, so did he. Gulping down the nervousness, you took a good look at him.

He was taller than you, even if it was by a couple inches only. He was still taller than you.

“Sorry for bothering but…” chewing on your lip (which he definitely looked at), you confessed, “...I've never seen someone as tall—hell—taller than me. So I just wanted to introduce myself.”

You tell him your name, trying not to seem so upfront about it. He continues to look on for a while, in which you think maybe he didn’t want to talk to you at all.

“König.” is all he (manages to) says and continues to walk (although appearing dull looking towards you, he was internally sweating bullets as well).

“...Well König…I was wondering…if you would like to…maybe hangout, tonight. I'm actually going out to head for some drinks tonight and I thought…” you chuckled nervously while trying not to mumble, he however, cut you off.

“What?” König asked in what seemed an annoyed tone.

Not to him though, he just seemed weary about strangers, plus he didn't really know how to act around someone he seemed to have a crush on. He didn't even think he sounded rude about it.

Which was the problem.

You quickly explained to him, “Well…we don't have to. I swear I just wanted to offer maybe I thought you'd be interested-”

He cut you off again, “Why would I want to spend my time with you?” 

Oh god König. If only he knew just how bad he was fucking this up.

Swallowing, you looked away from said man, “Um…nevermind I didn't mean to disturb you, please, forget I ever bothered you haha…” you slowly drifted off, trying to hide the wobble in your lip.

Forcing a smile you began to walk away from him.

König’s eyes widened as you began to walk away.

No. No. No. Nein. Nein-

Was tust du?! He thought as he saw your lips wobble.

Do something before they leave!

“Wait!” He blurted out. This time he didn't seem to care that the surrounding soldiers looked at him.

But when you turned around however, he felt his stomach flutter.

Oh shit now what-

He didn’t know what to say now. So he simply just walked up, grabbed both of your shoulders and explained how he’d love to go out for drinks.

Motivated, you just looked up at him, the genuine smile creeping back onto your face, “Really?”

König felt himself freeze, but nodded regardless:

“Ja.”

“Okay, great…Amazing!” Giving him the details, you headed towards the lockers, the–now–lovestruck smile on your face. König waved until he realized what he just did.

He agreed to go out for drinks. With you.

With you. 

What was his issue then? Nothing was wrong with you.

But you wanna go out with him. Him.…now that's a different story.

He was freaking out–not that anyone could tell–König stood still in one spot, till the hand on his shoulder broke him out of it. It was the previous soldier from before:

“Gut?” they tried asking König again, who narrowed his eyes back at them. 

“Ja.”

Can you tell this was rushed and kinda a little self indulgent? Yeah, now I feel kinda cringe. Also didn't mean to cut it off so suddenly, maybe to be continued? Maybe.

[hikarry]

Girl, sit down. I'm about to slap you with another imagine

*claps hands*

Ready?

Imagine: 1802, Russia. Czar Alexander I in power

Crowley infiltrated the palace as a war General.

A maid just handed him an envelope while he was walking around the gardens, and he was quick to open it with his finger. It was Aziraphale's, from Soho, London. A long one, as they usually were.

He scanned it quickly, just taking the general idea - he would read more calmly when he was home, by himself, and not feeling like he was being watched.

At the end of the second page, finally, something actually caught his attention. Aziraphale was going to Krasnaya Polyana, around a day away from Moscow. Apparently, there had been a spike of demonic activity there, and Heaven had sent him to investigate. He was asking if Crowley had anything to do with it, but he clearly didn't. He had been stuck in Moscow for 7 months now. But, alas, he also had no idea who it could be. He was not informed that another demon was topside in this region. And, for some reason, the angel going to the encounter of an unknown demon was not sitting well with him. He folded the letter and hid it in his jacket's pocket.

Aziraphale was a big angel. He could look out for himself... yet that did not mean Crowley couldn't try and find out who was causing mayhem in Krasnaya Polyana, did it?

As soon as Crowley got home that night, he wrote a quick note to one of his contacts in Hell, asking for information and readied himself to wait for at least 3 days before he got an answer. Surprisingly, it took only a night. When he woke up, there was a small note on his bedside table. He picked it up and turned it around, reading quickly. He sucked in a sharp breath before re-reading the note, just to make sure he was understanding correctly.

Asmodeus was topside. Along with Vine. A Prince and a Duke of Hell, and Aziraphale was walking right to the lion's mouth by himself.

Right. Okay.

Crowley read it one last time before burning it in his hands.

He had to find an excuse to get himself sent to Krasnaya Polyana as soon as possible, preferably before Asmodeus and Vine caught Aziraphale's scent around. The angel might be an ex-cherubim, but Satan knew what a real Prince of Hell could do to him and Crowley was surely not going to sit in the sidelines to find out.

A week and a half later - way way later than he expected - he got himself in Krasnaya Polyana. As soon as he got out of the train, he was hit with the smell of sulfur and a heavy feeling of evil all around.

With no bags to carry or to worry about, he just closed his eyes and reached out for Aziraphale's essence. He could feel it, barely. If his senses weren't mistaken, he was somewhere in the mountain.

Could Crowley help it, he wanted to avoid meeting both the Prince and the Duke. He only hoped Aziraphale was still off their tracks.

It was snowing heavily. The mountain was covered in ice, and the wind was frigid and white, somehow. It made it very, very hard to see or even focus enough to grasp Aziraphale's essence and keep following it.

His boots sank in the snow, and it didn't take long for his legs to start hurting and his insides to feel raw from the cold.

At the peripheral of his vision, he could also feel two very distinguishable demonic essences. The stronger one was in the city, which Crowley had already left behind, and the other was barely visible, somewhere on the top of the mountain, but considerably far away from Aziraphale.

The angel was alright. Probably he was in one of those ski places slightly up the mountain. And, confident in that thought, Crowley forced himself to stop and enter a bar nearby. Exhausting himself would not help the angel, so he needed a little break to recover and be able to continue to climb the bloody mountain.

He was sitting at a table, half full glass of vodka between his hands, when a loud groan was heard outside and the whole building shook, all the lights going out. People around him gasped and yelled, holding themselves to the furniture and each other until the tremor stopped.

"Oh goodness, what was that?" A woman asked near the bar with a very heavy French accent, both her arms around a man that held her just as close.

"An avalanche." The bartender answered, walking around to light up some candles. "And a strong one at that. There might be replicas, so everyone should stay put for at least an hour or-"

Yeah...so, Crowley didn't exactly hear the rest. He just tossed the vodka down in a single swing and got up from his seat, slithering around the people in the bar until he reached the door. He felt a hand on his arm, trying to pull him back when he reached for the doorknob, but he shook it away, finally getting outside.

The layer of snow outside was so thick now that his boots didn't dig into it. So he ran. Which didn't help with his respiratory system and, consequently, the rest of his body feeling raw and frozen all at the same time in less than few seconds. It took longer for his legs to get tired, but he was already tired, regardless. Still, he soldiered on, all riding on adrenaline and low-key panic.

"Aziraphale!" When Crowley started feeling his essence more clearly he started calling out for him, trying to see through the fog and the snow still falling. Not even his demonic eyes were helping on that task.

Eventually, he got to a spot where he could feel the essence so strongly that he actually felt its warmth, so he stopped and looked around, his heart hammering against his chest and his breath rasp and heavy.

"Aziraphale?" He turned on himself. There was no sign of Aziraphale anywhere... but he could swear the angel should be right here... and suddenly, it clicked. "No..." He was under the snow, wasn't he? "Fuck. Aziraphale!"

Crowley took a few steps to the left and fell to his knees, his trousers getting ice cold soaked as he dig the snow as fast as he could. He had no idea how much time had passed, but finally, he found some cream fabric under the snow.

"No, no, no, no. For fucks sake, Aziraphale!" Still digging, he started talking to himself, mainly not to let the panic spiral and keep himself grounded. "Why is it always you?! Don't those wanker archangels have any other angel to throw into a frozen nightmare after their bloody death?!"

From there, it was rather easy to dig his torso and his face from under the snow.

Aziraphale was frozen to the touch, his lips were an awful shade of bluish-purple and his corporation was not breathing.

Okay. Crowley. Just. Don't. Panic.

He held Aziraphale by the shoulders and pulled him the rest of the way out of the snow.

"Angel?" At some point he had thrown his gloves to the side to make digging easier, so now he placed his equally frozen, wet and trembling hands on Aziraphale's cheeks. With his demonic essence, he tried to reach out for Aziraphale's and the angel's essence reached back instantly like a cougar attacking its unattentive prey, surprising the demon, who staggered back, hands away from the angel, snapping his essence back inside his own corporation.

Alright. Aziraphale was quite clearly still here, and he was either so out of his mind he pounced on Crowley with the default intent to smite him, or he was just plainly terrified.

Carefully, both his hands once again on the angel's face, he slowly reached out, this time more prepared for when Aziraphale's essence jumped on him.

Aziraphale wasn't trying to smite him. He was reaching for warmth.

Crowley's corporation shallowed as he sat back and pulled Aziraphale to his lap, upping his body heat as much as he possibly could. It didn't feel great. In fact, it felt like he was having a very bad fever, and his mind swam a bit with the sudden difference in temperature, but he had to try and keep the angel warm. On a metaphysical level, Crowley's True Form surrounded Aziraphale's, as tight as metaphysically possible, trying to keep him stable. Keep him here. His essence was flickering a bit, and Crowley wasn't having any of it.

"Don't you dare discorporate, you bastard."

Crowley looked around. There was nowhere warm where he could take the angel close enough. Try as he might, this was only a temporary solution. One that wasn't doing much at that.

Suddenly, his head snapped back to attention as he felt a demonic presence getting closer.

Fucking Heavens, that was exactly the last thing he needed right now. There was nowhere to hide, and even if he found some place, the Duke would feel Aziraphale's essence and hunt like a starved dog.

Right. Think. Preferably before Aziraphale fucking discoporates in your arms.

The only idea that came to mind was miracling a small cabin or whatnot into existence right then and there. It would be a big ass miracle, and he would be exhausted afterward, but his priority was keeping Aziraphale here. So he took a long breath and snapped his fingers, a small wooden cabin showing up right behind them.

Gently, Crowley got up and took Aziraphale in his arms, walking them both into the cabin. At least inside there was no more wind or snow, and whatever body heat his body produced would remain trapped between the four walls.

Sitting Aziraphale on the floor with his back against the wall, Crowley detached his cape from his shoulders and wrapped it around the angel before turning his attention to the door.

Vine would find a cabin in the middle of a bloody mountain suspicious, as he should.

Crowley was tired, both physically, mentally and metaphysically, and his miracle reservoir was quite affected by that and the big ass miracle he just performed, but he had to put up wards around this place that not only masked the cabin, but both his and Aziraphale's essences from the Duke's radar. It was easier said than done, but he had no time to dilly dally. With each snap, he felt his mind go foggy, and his vision tilt to the side. Yet, he kept going until everything was more or less in place. All he could do for now was pray. Or not pray. He was a demon. Demons didn't pray

He sat on the floor next to Aziraphale and pulled him into his lap, hugging him against his chest and upping his body temperature once again. This time, he was invaded by a sudden nausea, and his eyes unfocused, but he kept it up, trapping Aziraphale's True Form with his own once again.

"Stay with me, angel." It was more a wordless request than a whisper.

There they stayed, Crowley with his head leaned against the wall and Aziraphale unconscious on his arms.

Slowly but surely, Aziraphale's skin started warming up, and his lips changed to a very pale pink, but pink nonetheless.

Crowley was exhausted. Part of him was begging him to close his eyes and sleep, but if he did his body temperature would go back down to normal and his essence would spring back to his corporation, letting go of Aziraphale and that wasn't an option. Not until he was concious.

In the back of his mind, he noticed when the demonic presence got dangerously close to where they were. Instinctively, he hugged Aziraphale more tightly, holding his breath. He felt truly frozen in place while the Duke slowly walked by them and only allowed himself to somewhat relax again when he was far away enough. Yet, he didn't put down the wards. They were consuming a lot of his energy, and his body was growing somewhat numb, but he refused to let go.

Aziraphale's corporation took a deep breath and slowly started shaking.

Good. That was good. He was coming back to himself.

It was a slow process, but when the night fell outside, Aziraphale finally stirred, opening his eyes with quite the effort.

"Crowley...?" His voice was sluggish, but Satan was it good to hear it. The demon was too weak to answer with words, so he only hummed, gripping him more strongly. "What happened...?"

Gradually, Crowley let his body heat fall to its normal temperature, and he let the ward hidding the cabin fall. It was like someone had taken a boulder off his chest, but his mind was still somewhat slow. He looked down at Aziraphale, his sunglasses lost somewhere in the snow outside while he had been digging.

"There's was an avalanche. You got trapped in it. Buried yourself 7 feet under a block of ice."

Aziraphale moved slightly on his lap, straightening himself up so he was actually sitting.

"You're supposed to be in Moscow."

"Observant."

"What are you even doing here, Crowley?"

He thought about dropping his arms from around Aziraphale, but he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"Saving your arse once again, obviously. If I had stayed in Moscow, right now your corporation would be a popsicle and you would be upstairs getting an earful from Gabriel or that wanker Michael. So, you're welcome."

The angel didn't say anything else. Instead, he let his head fall on Crowley's shoulder, and both of them stayed in silence, only their ragged breathes and the wind outside making themselves heard.

"You need to leave Russia. Or, at least, Krasnaya Polyana."

"I can't." His hand was gripping the front of Crowley's jacket, the demon wasn't sure he was aware of that. "I have an assignment to complete."

"It's completed." Aziraphale's head snapped up, looking the demon in the eye. "You came here to figure out why there was a spike of demonic energy here, yes? There's a Prince and a Duke of Hell. Asmodeus and Vine. That's why."

"I can't just leave these people in the hands of two demons! I have to find out whatever it is they are trying to do!"

"That's not part of your assignment. You had to know the cause, now you know. You will write your report as soon as you can and get the heavens out of here before they sniff you out."

"Crowley, you're being ridic-"

"You are leaving, Aziraphale." Now it was his turn to look the angel in the eye, his voice as cold as the ice outside. "You've never dealt with a Duke of Hell, much less a Prince. You've mainly dealt with me and, let's be honest with ourselves, I give you little to no trouble. You are not prepared to face either of them. Asmodeus could easily discorporate you on sight. Or kill you. Actually kill you. Destroy your essence. They are not some random demons you can waltz to and have a polite conversation with." Aziraphale stayed quiet, unmoving. "You are leaving and that's final."

"You can't order me around."

"I'm trying to save your bloody life, Aziraphale!" His arms let go of the angel, and his hands came up to grab his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "This is not a joke. They will not stop by to have tea and biscuits and discuss the weather while you convince them to leave. Stop being fucking stubborn for once in your damn life! You did what you came to do. Just tell Gabriel that they are here and leave." Aziraphale looks down to his hands. "I'm serious, angel." He held the angel's chin, pushing him to look up at him again. "I'm not leaving you here with them. You either come with me to Moscow or go straight back to London to the bookshop."

Crowley feels the vibrations of Aziraphale humming on his fingers.

"Very well, my dear. Whatever you say." The angel got up from his lap and the demon followed him, swaying on his feet. Aziraphale held his arm, stabilizing him. "Are you quite alright?"

He kept his eyes closed for a few moments until his mind stopped feeling sluggish. Probably because he took too long answer, Crowley felt Aziraphale's fingers brushing his. He finally let down the two last wards and took the deepest breath.

"I'm fine. Just. A lot of big miracles. And you grabbing at my essence and True Form like a dehydrated man in the desert." Aziraphale's hand flinched away and he was about to open his mouth to say something, but Crowley cut it, holding his hand, squeezing it. "I said I'm fine. Let's go back to civilization, shall we?"

They did go back to civilization. To Moscow in the first train out from Krasnaya Polyana, to be more precise.

Aziraphale stayed with Crowley in his flat at the capital for 3 days. He wrote the report as soon as they arrived, and both waited to hear something from Gabriel in the next few days, but silence was all they got. On the 3rd day, when Aziraphale had his train back to Paris and then to London, Crowley insisted on seeing him out, so he had to leave the palace in quite the hurry, with no chance to switch out his uniform.

"Thank you for seeing me out, dear. Or should I say..." Aziraphale tapped Crowley's hat. ", General?"

Crowley rolled his eyes fondly, smiling in response.

"Shut up."

"I'm not jesting. You've always looked rather... fetching in a uniform. When was the last time you wore one? American Revolution?"

"I believe so."

Aziraphale hummed, fixing Crowley's left shoulder pad.

"You always wore them much better than I did."

"Usually you are at the hospitals saving lives, angel. Not in the battlefield."

The angel snorted.

"Not like you are in the battlefield actually fighting yourself."

"Oi! I have fought!"

"Mmh. I've never seen you holding a gun. And the last time I saw you brandishing a sword was back in the Gallic Wars, back in 58 BCE."

"Ngk."

Aziraphale chuckled, taking a step back, grabbing his suitcase.

"Will you be back in London?"

"Myeah. Should be done here in another year or so."

"Shall I keep watering your plants?"

"You've got the key, don't you?"

"Indeed." They heard the train making the last call and both looked towards the noise before looking back at each other. "Do try to not get yourself discorporated."

"Likewise. I'll see you in a year, angel."

Aziraphale nodded and started walking away, dragging his suitcase behind him. Before stepping through the train's entrance, he looked back, spotting the demon exactly where he left him, still watching him. Crowley winked and saluted him, pulling a chuckle out of Aziraphale's throat.

Crowley was ridiculous.

And so the angel went back to London. Alive. And out of the rather of any demonic entity, apart from the one he wanted to stay in the radar of.

[skzstoryvault]

If I Was Your Vampire (Hyunjin smut)

F!Reader x Hyunjin

Hyunjin has a biting kink, enmeshment, intensely felt and probably unhealthy emotions, Hyunjin is a romantic and a pervert, body fluids, shared horniness

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real person Hyunjin. The persona he projects for us to enjoy is just so enticing and invites naughty fantasies.

The "you" used here is not generic, I'm using it to allow myself some immersion on later re-reads. I know that's selfish but isn't all the writing advice telling us to write what we want to read? If you still find something in here to like, all the better - I hope you enjoy it and have a good time.

Please be kind, this is my first story.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

Your beautiful, ethereal mate likes to bite. Sometimes you’re left alone with the doubt that he’s truly human, and in time, the doubt only grows.

A regular man would never be so smitten with you. With YOU - of all women. And never would he show it in such over the top ways.

His kisses turn to bites - soft ones, with plush lips wrapped over the sharpness of teeth, and then he cannot resist taking more. You give him everything, in every way he wants it. He is exquisite and mysterious like a work of art, and he’s in love with you. He prostrates himself before you, above you, between your thighs, leaving no nook or recess of your body unexplored. His love consumes you; he gnaws at your flesh, your skin, your bones like sacraments that can’t even begin to quench his fervour. He will have you sitting close by him when he paints, reaching for your hand and nipping at your fingertips even as he still focuses on his canvas. It often goes unfinished and ignored, as soon as Hyunjin gets a taste of your skin. Then his hunger surfaces and takes control, bringing him closer, making him zero in on you, long, deft fingers travelling across your skin, pulling you to where his lips, his tongue, his teeth can mark you to his heart’s contentment. It’s never enough for him - never with you. He lays you down on the plastic foil he spreads out on the floor to protect it from paint splatter; he spreads you open and makes room for himself inside you, a wounded animal-like growl escaping his lips when he bottoms out. “Trapped, my love,” he whines, and most of the time you’re not sure if he’s even being dramatic. The way his mouth stays on you, biting at your collarbones, the curves of your ribs poking through your skin in your arched position, the thin tissue of your nipples, which sends purified pleasure to your brain after panic, pain and pleasure mix at first - it’s like a drug, making you pliant and amenable to his needs. “So tight, it almost hurts. One day your hungry pussy will swallow my cock whole and not give it back. Unless I fuck it well and please it just enough to gain its mercy.” He whispers around a nipple, tongue circling it before he sucks it sharply. Your breasts are always full of bruises, small bite marks on the flesh and wine coloured blooms on your nipples from where Hyunjin brings the blood right beneath the surface of the thin skin. It is a view he gets off on so quickly. 

“Am I fucking you good enough, my goddes?” He pleads. “Tell me, tell me what you desire.” He’s mad, but he’s pulled you into his madness, which is a much happier, more colourful world than your day-to-day. He tries to last, like every time, but then you take from him what you need, one hand buried in his hair, at the back of his head, the other squeezing a glute with splayed out, claw-like fingers. 

“Hyune, let go, come with me,” you coax, knowing your peak is just around the corner. You’re drenched in his sweat and he’s no longer holding himself up, just his hips moving against you, his weight crushing you beneath him and bringing him impossibly deeper inside you. He doesn’t even have to think of touching your clit, not that he could with how close he welded his body to yours.

“F-fuck, I-I-I’m there, fu- ah, ah, come with me.” He pants out, incoherent and lost, blindly searching for one of your hands to twine your fingers with his. One more inhale, and the air filling your chest is the final push you need to fall apart too. “So tight, too tight, fuck-” Hyunjin whispers, almost sobbing the words out even as he empties himself in your depths. “My soul has left me.” You wrap your arms around him and pull him down, aligning his mouth with yours for a calming kiss, needing his mind to return and retake its seat in his body so that he can be back to his senses and in the world. It’s almost unsettling how much he lets fucking you rattle his entire being. But it’s been like this from the start, every act of intimacy to Hyunjin is of cosmic proportions. He sees himself like a monster man, a crazy, needy man who, like Prometheus, came to steal that which the gods keep for themselves and take for granted. It makes for mind-erasing, night-long sex and orgasms that rattle you both out of your hinges.

Every time, you’re both left having to return with baby steps to being human and your everyday, civilised form. Once the oxytocin tide Hyunjin has you drowning in recedes a bit, you become aware of the many spots of pain on your front, from your jaw to your pussy, and Hyunjin lazily takes a photo of the wine-coloured marks blooming right below your skin surface.  He himself is filled with smudged paints, a cobalt blue streak on his forearm, some yellow on his hip, red on his shoulder, white smeared down the centre of his chest. His hair is a mess and he’s dripping with now cooling sweat. 

“Does it hurt really badly, my love?” he asks, now subdued and repentant. 

“No, just a little in many places. Enough to make me feel like I have you with me everywhere I go.” “I never want to hurt you, but… I get carried away, I can’t get enough of you.” “You never hurt me, Hyune. You never have to feel guilty for the pain you bring, because it only serves as a catalyst for more pleasure.”

“Good.” Hyunjin says, looking at the ceiling, having finally settled next to you, chest still heaving. “You are the only human I will ever be this close to. So I want to make sure I take you to see God every time I’m inside you, because you do that to me every time without fail. My beating heart.”  You turn towards him, propping yourself up to lean over and kiss him.

One of his hands snakes its way down to your slit, fingers dipping between the lips.

“Fuck, you’re so wet and sticky.” Hyunjin gasps at his finding. “I best do something about that.”

[sprinklenoodles]

I'm baaaaack! I got a doozy of a piece too! For The Heir of Despair!

Read all that was there and I am here to share my thoughts in a slightly coherent way! Sorry in advance if I repeat myself! First, Byakuya, my boy. Oh my gosh are you an irredeemable prick! I say this in a good way by the way! Like, you wrote him good in the sense that I am routing for his downfall in some way and was very excited near the end when he slightly didn't get his way. Bravo! You have succeeded in making me dislike my boy! (I still love him <3) But, anyway, reading what's here really got my brain thinking! Like, what might happen with Byakuya and Junko. In fact, Here's a lightning round of fun little questions that make my brain do acrobatics in a skating park! Not for answering of course! That's be lame! I must expel these out though haha!

There! Got it out of my system!! As for some other thoughts, I enjoy the canon divergences! Obviously the main gimmick is itself one, but you get what I mean! Also, I have no way to segway into this but I was no joke quoting and spouting a bunch of goofy crap and like, I can't just NOT give a peak into the innerworkings of my mind. So, here. Take those and a bit of tidbits on the context I said them in. "Leave that little guy alone!" - Said mostly for Chihiro and Makoto, both when Byakuya was manipulate, mansplain, malewife-ing his way through existence. Less malewife though. Or scratch it. No malewife-ing for him. Not in this time line u_u "Byakuya! Have you learned nothing!" - Just any time Byakuya was doing stuff I found worthy of mocking him for. Might have to re-read everything to find the specifics cus I unfortunately did not count those moments in a spread sheet T-T "You're no good, Byakuya! You'll never be shit! You're just like your father!" - I find this one funny cus I legit find Kijo a saint in this in comparison to his son. It's both because the man hasn't really done much and he's not the focus. I also had a realization though that the reason I want this Byakuya to suffer so much is because I know he can do better than this! Like, Byakuya as a character! Unlike Kijo, he has the potential for redeemable qualities which makes his reveling in his own ego less camp, more pathetic. Like, Kijo makes it fun because he sucks, he will never improve, and that's that! And it's not like Byakuya can't be that fun camp! He just has to not be a monster! I like this factor in this Byakuya though in this fic. It really encapsulates how bad he could be. How he can surpass his father in horrible behavior, and actions. Like, it's sick reading how much he enjoys all of this and you did a really good job at it! Also, I have no idea how to fit this either but I DID mentally joke to myself that I wouldn't mind Junko actually cutting of a limb from Kijo just to make Byakuya suffer a bit (even if it probably won't be much sadly) and I have no idea how to take that... I think that, weirdly enough, I like ridiculing this Byakuya. I want him to fail. And like, it's insane you're writing can do that!! Be proud!! Like, this isn't even the type of fic I normally read and I've been able to enjoy it. You wrote many variants of just one rich guy and they're all distinct enough to feel different about them but similar enough where you can see where the divergences lie and I really like that!! And, it's oddly cool reading something and knowing that I could never write this. This goes for all your fics by the way but like, it's really cool reading this and just knowing that someone's able to write something I could never. I'm too much of a softie for Byakuya, even when I'm mean to him heehee! No clue if this makes sense by the way. I'm kinda blabbering now so I might end it here! But yeah! You got some cool stuff!

Aaahhh!!! Thank you!!! LOVE the art as always, it looks AWESOME!!

And yeah, Byakuya is NOT a good guy. He's very much a prick and supposed to be like that.

As for your questions, I obviously can't answer those... Though, the answer to some are no and some are yes... That's all I'll say.

And Chihiro is really going through it, with Makoto joining him soon. Byakuya will unfortunately not be leaving them alone 😔

Kijo is strangely enough a better person here, though he still ain't good. Like, he is very much on board with the killing game. He doesn't really like that Byakuya is in it cuz he doesn't want his heir to die, but that's all.

He's also very petty tho and is quite offended Byakuya kept him in the dark about everything. It's why he agreed to the motive. And unfortunately, no missing limbs for Kijo. That is reserved for another dad only in an AU that isn't mine...

But Byakuya is not nice, yeah. And like you said, he could be much better but he simply doesn't want to. He likes the way things are and loves to manipulate some of his classmates.

And that makes people not like him, just as intended. He's the protagonist but one you want to fail. Cuz if he doesn't, that means something bad for the rest of the cast...

But thank you!! I really like writing these different versions of him and it's really not as hard as it might seem. Tbh, it comes kinda natural if anything! Though, I get being the softie to Byakuya, I myself would never hurt him... Other than the countless times he got injured in my fics... :D

[dragonnarrative-writes]

im the anon who sent that gaz ask and omg kyle's interlude was so good!!!!! im just giggling thinking of kyle wondering how much does she know? did she catch on somehow? fuck I have to take her out quick before she finds out how many projects ive finished and the whole time miss new girl is like. wow this guy fucking sucks at his job i want him gone from my hospital >:(

mans thinks shes gonna file a case with a police and she just thinks he's incompetent as shit

I'm so tickled. That's exactly what's happening.

CW: discussions of death and dying, autopsies, medical neglect

There’s something going on on the cardiac floor that you just… can’t quite put your finger on.

This isn’t the first hospital you’ve worked at, but you’re also new to urban healthcare, so you don’t want to rock the boat by being paranoid. But traffic from the cardiac floor is… steady. You’ve read the papers, know the stats like the back of your hand. And the cardiac floor is perfectly in line with expected trends. Every. Month.

There are fluctuations, of course. Plus or minus three to seven lives is nothing remarkable in cardiology. Macabre, maybe, but true. But that’s unnatural. In the seven months you’ve worked here, you’ve seen waves elsewhere in the hospital. The plastics floor had a month with zero deaths followed by a month of a persistent infection sweeping through the otherwise reasonably healthy patients. Oncology has seen a steady decline in patients sent your way, thank goodness. Even emergency and intensive care aren’t as fixedly consistent as the cardiac floor.

When you wonder about it aloud to the director, Dr. Martins just shrugs. “We have a good team up there. Very good at keeping things clean and double and triple checking their work.”

“But if that’s the case, then the number of deaths should be going down,” you point out.

Dennis gives you a rueful smile. “That’s not always how human bodies work, unfortunately. You know that.”

You do know that. Which is why the consistency grates against your nerves. So you decide to do a little digging.

The name that comes up the most often in the chart notes is one Kyle Garrick.

That’s actually not 100% accurate. He’s charting exactly the way he’s supposed to. And no nurse has complete, individual access to patients 24/7. But every dying patient he has access to is… perfect. Their blood work, labs, vitals, prognosis, medication adherence and refusal is almost too-the-letter, textbook precise.

The most obvious answer is that Garrick, and probably a couple of other nurses on the floor, are fudging the numbers.

The idea is infuriating. You hate the way the administrators keep changing medical record systems just as much as the next person, but inaccurate charting is a safety issue. People can, have, and do die because someone writes down the wrong timing for medications or assumes that a patient’s vitals are unchanged. If anything, this is probably worse than that. The fact that everything is so pristine probably means that some patients are just being written off. The nurses might be deciding who gets the excellent care the hospital is known for and who gets neglected.

You stay three hours late investigating the next cardio patient that ends up in your morgue.

After examining the body and reading, rereading, and re-re-re-reading his chart, you find it. A stutter in the dosages of blood thinners, a slightly higher blood pressure reading from someone who isn’t nurse Kyle fucking Garrick. Just enough evidence to have you testing the body with an aspirometer almost too late. And there it is. A fatal air embolism.

You want to scream, but the dead man doesn’t deserve that.

Three weeks later, sipping from your water bottle, someone calls into the office. “Knock knock.”

Dennis practically lights up. “"Good morning, Kyle. Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Dr Martins hates unexpected visitors. Then you look over your shoulder, and you understand. Even old queens aren't immune to pretty privilege. The man that’s leaning in the doorway is gorgeous. Maybe its because you work with dead bodies all day, but his eyes and skin seem to glow, even under the fluorescents.

"Can't," the man says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The fact that you’re wiping crumbs off of your mouth over a paper plate is the only reason no one sees your face fall when you hear him say, “Nice to meet you. Kyle Garrick.”