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here2bbtstrash · 1 year

Text

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

#taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #bts fluff #bts x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for not flushing the toilet to prove a point to my partner, then calling him out for it?

my partner (24M) and i (24F) live together. he regularly forgets to flush the toilet after shitting. it goes like this: he takes his morning shit while the shower heats up -> he decides to flush after his shower bc he thinks it'll make the shower cold otherwise (it doesn't, i've tested this, but he doesn't believe me) -> i leave for work -> he promptly forgets to flush -> his smelly dump steeps in the toilet all day -> the whole apartment reeks when i get home -> i flush, turn on the bathroom fan, and febreeze -> the smell is gone when he gets home -> i remind him to please flush when he poops -> he insists he never forgets and it must've been me -> the cycle continues

today i had a doctor's appointment right after work. i was planning to go straight there after work, and told my partner as such so he wouldn't be concerned when i wasn't home when he got home. well, i forgot my wallet, so i ran home after work and decided to use the bathroom before leaving. as soon as i opened the front door i could tell that yet again he forgot to flush. i was tired of dealing with this so i peed, didn't flush, and left it for him to come home to for once. when i got home from my appointment the whole apartment REEKED of febreeze, lmao. i asked him what happened, and he said that one of the cats had a really smelly shit. i said "yeah, it was definitely the cats and not you forgetting to flush after shitting once again". he ripped off his headset (he was gaming) and snapped at me not to embarrass him like that when he was on voice chat with his friends (i didn't know). i don't feel bad about it, but i guess i did technically lie about going straight from work to the doctor's and omitting the part where i came home and didn't flush to prove a point to him. and maybe giving him shit for it (no pun intended) was an asshole move. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

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lincolndjarin · 8 months

Text

A Little Mishap.

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day five - afab!reader x dark!francisco morales

prompt : hate sex [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.4k (sorry all of these are so short, there's so many i've been struggling to make them longer)

summary : READ ALL WARNINGS. THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC. you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

warnings, etc. : dead dove do not eat, dubcon/noncon, dark!frankie, unprotected p in v, spanking, use of restraints, panty gag, painful sex, degradation, orgasm denial, creampie, ambiguous ending, probably other things lmk if i forgot any tags

a/n : a lot of my october stuff is gonna be barely edited so my apologies for that but this is my first time writing frankie but also my first time writing any sort of dark fic and i'm definitely feeling anxious about posting this but here it is uhhhh yeah. i've been finishing all of these before work this week and having this tiny little time crunch before doing a ten hour shift really wakes me the fuck up lmao.

He shoves you into the tent, both of you fuming at this point. Neither one of you speaks as you take a seat on your cot, putting your head in your hands. After a moment you can see his boots appear in front of you.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He growls and you feel your jaw tense as you look up at him.

“You can’t believe me?” You say incredulously. “If it weren’t for me we’d have nothing.”

“If it weren’t for you we might have everything.” He hisses, planting a hand firmly on your shoulder as he shoves you back into the wall, you sit up quickly, kicking his knee in retaliation, watching as he slumps to the floor.

“I did exactly what Santi would have wanted me to do in that situation.” You usually don’t physical when you two fight, (which is happening more and more often these days) but today you’re fed up with him, you’d been on that mission with just him for over a week when he’d fucked up. You could have lost everything if you’d listened to him, at least now you had half the haul.

“La puta…” He grumbles, grabbing you by your ankles as you lean back to kick him again. “Os voy a dar una lección.” He mumbles, twisting your legs until you stop resisting. You swallow a squeak that threatens to bubble up from the pain, you’re about to swing on him when he pushes you back down, his hands swiftly yank your pants down making you freeze in shock. He doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he drags you off the cot, knocking the wind out of you as you hit the tent floor.

“Asshole!” You yelp as he pins you down with his knees, taking both your wrists in one large hand as you squirm beneath him, trying to flip him off you.

“Fucking- quit it.” He delivers a sharp slap to your jaw promptly halting your struggle as you scowl at him. You’re about to hurl another insult at him when you hear the familiar sound of his switchblade flipping open. “Don’t move.” He mumbles as you feel the cold steel against your hip and in an instant you hear a slicing, followed by the same on the other side, you squeeze your thighs together instinctively as he pulls your panties off with ease now that the sides are torn.

“Frankie!” You shriek and he takes the opportunity to shove the bunched up fabric between your teeth.

“‘Talk too damn much.” You try to kick him again as he tugs your pants the rest of the way down, bringing them up as he haphazardly flips you onto your stomach, binding your hands behind your back with one of your pant legs. You’re about to spit your panties out when you feel the steel on your throat. “You keep that smart mouth of yours stuffed or I’ll find another way to shut you up.” His blade digs into your flesh as a silent warning and you don’t dare. He gives you a minute to decide what you want to do and you choose to just stay still, trying desperately to steady your breathing.

He digs his knee into your lower back one more time, eliciting a pained groan from you before slotting himself between your thighs. You’re dizzy from everything happening so fast and he doesn’t give you much of a chance to process any of it as he takes hold of your makeshift cuffs, dragging you upright as you kneel, his free hand wrapping around your waist to cup your mound.

“You know how often I think about this?” He rests his temple on yours as his chin sits on your shoulder, his body heat suffocates you.

How many times had you reluctantly thought about the same thing? Rolling to face away from him in your shared tent and shoving your hand between your legs, imagining what it would be like when he finally got sick of your shit and bent you over. You’re snapped out of your thoughts as he dips two fingers between your folds with a satisfied sigh. He slides his digits back and forth, scooping up your abundant wetness with a throaty chuckle.

“You get off on bein’ a brat?” He dangles his fingers in front of your face before rubbing your slick onto your parted lips, forcing you to taste your own arousal. “Then I’ll treat you like a brat.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head up as you feel him grind the front of his pants against your ass. “Fuckin’ soaking me.” He bends you over, forcing your ass up and pushing your face into the floor. He keeps one hand locked around your wrist as the other shoves his own pants down. You whine into the makeshift gag. “Maybe I’ll just fuck some obedience into you.”

You let out a squeak as he slaps your rear. He lets his palm rest there, before roughly spreading your cheeks. You hear him spit, followed by the sensation of it dripping down your seam, you can feel him lining himself up at your entrance, all of his actions are rushed and you just can’t keep up, your body doesn’t even have time to make an attempt at defending yourself as he rams himself into you without warning. A muffled squeal falls from your lips as he beings to fuck you mercilessly, giving you no time to adjust to the sheer size of him.

With your face pressed into the floor you can’t see him but you can certainly feel just how thick he is. The underlying pleasure does nothing to soothe the feeling of being split open by him.

“Jesus-” He grunts out, your pussy gushing around him only spurs him on, his movements somehow becoming harsher as he bumps against your g-spot with ever slam of his hips, the combines overstimulation and pain makes your eyes water, a few tears slipping past your lash line. “Dunno how I’m gonna last in such a tight cunt.” He slaps your ass again, hard enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll have a mark, drawing a sob from you. “Fuckin’ choking my cock when I do that.”

He spanks you again, a loud crack rings throughout the tent as your cunt involuntarily clamps down on him, his hips stuttering forward.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” His voice is low and dangerous as the rough denim of his jeans scratches at your thighs. “Is that why you keep squeezin’ me?” You don’t realize he expects a response until he smacks you again. “You love this?” You nod fervently, mumbling something similar to a yes into your panties. “You wanna finish on my cock?” Much to your own dismay you nod once more.

You don’t know how, but against all odds you really are close. The coil tightening in your stomach threatens to consume you as you try desperately to force yourself over that edge to no avail.

“That’s too bad, only good girls get to come.” He growls, readjusting himself so one hand is tangled in your hair and the other is gripping your wrists, keeping you hovering above the tent floor rather uncomfortably, your lurch forward with every one of his brutal thrusts. You groan something that sounds like his name but you know it’s useless to try and reason with him. With a few more long drawn out thrusts you feel him burst within you, his grip on your hair tightens and you shriek as his release begins dripping from your swollen cunt as he slips out of you.

Your tears are drying on your face and you slump forward once his hands release you. Your body continues to buzz with frustration, a small part of you is genuinely upset at your lack of an orgasm. You can hear the rest of your mission party returning as Frankie leans forward and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to everything he just did to you. You can hear the zipper on his pants as he pulls himself together, leaving you wrecked on the floor.

“Why don’t we see how Pope feels about your little mishap?” He whispers before you turn your head just in time to watch him lean out of the tent, calling Santiago over.

a/n : i would love any sort of feedback on this?? i've never written anything like this before so i'm a little nervous.

#lincolndjarin #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #dark!frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales

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theycallmemisterbutterfingers · 5 months

Text

Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places. Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone.

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry.

Well.

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God.

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment.

Guilt.

Horrible, horrible guilt.

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good.

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel.

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light.

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth.

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard.

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him.

His angel. His Az—hm.

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale.

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel.

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest.

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped.

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely,

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again.

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly.

And Crowley broke.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body.

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time.

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk—sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face.

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

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19burstraat · 3 months

Text

queering futurity in crooked kingdom

if I had any real time for this (I do not) I'd be tempted to write a real essay about it, but I have a dissertation and two other real essays for my actual degree, so let's do a bad tunglr bullet point analysis. I'm... largely generalising and paraphrasing here, and I suspect this has a billion things to iron out or that I forgot about, but I hope this might be a bit interesting regardless of how much you may or may not know abt queer literary theory lmao.

in extreme short, there is a subset of queer theory around what is, in essence, queer time. there is a heteronormative future/'futurity', and it is marriage, children, a good job, a nice house, and dying at a good age after a fulfilling life. queer* and trans people both reject and often cannot access this: plenty couldn't/cannot get married or have children, or had to surpass lots of obstacles to do so, many queer and trans people were or are killed young, or died prematurely in the aids crisis. and so we get queer temporality; a resistance to the heteronormative future that is refused or inaccessible, and to reproductive futurism; the concept that people value the future over the present... and this manifests in kicking back against things like the symbolic 'child' as a representative of futurity. not real children, but empty platitudes like think of the children! think of the future for your children! there can also be a development of a death drive, which is sometimes literal and sometimes metaphorical, which is, again, basically a rejection of 'the future'.

while the grishaverse doesn't have homophobia as such, you can still do queer readings, bc it is ofc influenced by our world, by virtue of being Written By A Person From Our World. and especially in kerch, there's still stuff like patrilineal inheritance... buuuut reproductive futurity & friends are very deliberately destroyed by the end of crooked kingdom. mostly by the usual culprit (taps sign that says IT'S KAZ AGAIN LOL) but by the narrative and the other characters as well. walk w me! I don't think this is a real analysis more just a lot of Thoughts but... nvm

*used here as an umbrella term since the theory I'm pulling from is the field of queer theory

the two men (van eck and rollins) who are most concerned with reproductive futurism (having heirs and a legacy, 'building something that will outlast them'), are promptly buried under the rubble of their building efforts by our usual culprit. kaz uses the mentality of legacy and lineage against them both; he kidnaps van eck's pregnant wife to use as a bargaining chip, and he uses rollins's son and heir against him, because he knows what's most important to these men is their line, their work being handed down. he deduces that rollins has a son through rollins' vanity around building something to 'last', and his naming of the kaelish prince. rollins is literally themed around monarchy and descent; the king of the barrel, the kaelish prince, the emerald palace. kaz, for his part, is the bastard of the barrel. the illegitimate son, not produced by any conventional family structure, ketterdam his mother and profit his father... and therefore he is the perfect person to blow up this imagined monarchy

wylan is rejected by van eck for his disability, for being supposedly incapable of continuing his father's legacy; and so we gather that the actual child doesn't matter to van eck, it's what The Child represented to him, which was the future of the van eck company. the illegitimate kaz restores van eck's disowned son to the succession through sheer trickery, and jan van eck's trading empire is succeeded by his son he attempted to reject, and his farm-boy barrel-tough boyfriend. they bring home the first wife that van eck had committed, for failing to produce the 'perfect' heir. no perfect heteronormative future here!

(also by virtue of wylan and jesper being a mlm couple, there is now way less emphasis that can be put on the idea of biological children 'continuing' the line, and it somewhat stops the expectation that ruined wylan's life from being passed down)

the two m/f couples are also very distant from this idealised reproductive futurity. matthias dies, ruining any idea of a 'conventional' future he could have had with nina, and while his death is generally more about the extremist brainwashing stuff explored w the drüskelle, it does blow to shreds that futurity even more, and nina's power is also a very literal HEY GUYS. LET'S THINK ABOUT DEATH... plus she leaves ketterdam to take matthias to be buried at the end of the book.

kaz and inej both do very dangerous jobs and separate for long periods of time. they may marry or they may not, they may have children or they may not, they may be physical with one another or they may not. it doesn't really matter; they'll try, but we don't get to find out how far they may or may not get, which honestly I kinda like. their future is open, the river running carrying inej to the sea. also, inej makes an explicit rejection of this kind of 'normal' future:

So he wasn’t fit for a normal life. Was she meant to find a kindhearted husband, have his children, then sharpen her knives after they’d gone to sleep? How would she explain the nightmares she still had from the Menagerie? Or the blood on her hands?

we don't really know whether or not kaz as a character is queer (I do not think kaz knows either lol) but it doesn't really matter, you can still read him as a queer figure both a) just if you want to! and b) in this sense of queer temporality, bc he's the crux of a lot of it. we already covered the bastard thing and his happy habit of kicking reproductive futurism when it's down, and as Edelman says: 'If the fate of the queer is to figure the fate that cuts the thread of futurity...' well, kaz 'build something new. watch it burn' 'he knew exactly what he was going to leave behind: damage' brekker is our man!

he does not give a single flying fuck about the future. he destroyed van eck and rollins' legacies, and he'll do that shit again. he doesn't have enough of an ego to consider a 'legacy' for himself besides destruction, which is a rejection of a legacy in itself. his plans for the future amount to fucking shit up and making a bunch of money to use to do more damage, until he gets shot/stabbed/hanged/drowned/whatever, which he constantly anticipates.

kaz also has a massive distrust and disdain for traditional family structures, because he's seen them crumble twice; his actual family are all dead, and the hertzoon con was built on creating a convincing family mode to lure them in. "my mother is ketterdam, she birthed me in the harbour; my father is profit, I honour him daily" is a sneer at paterfamilias type families where the mother is there to just give birth and the father is the head of the family, to be honoured and served, rather than loved. he also has zero sympathy for the 'think of the children!' thing, bc he knows it's disingenuous; who thought of him? no one. rollins was happy to con kids with the false promise of family and safety, and all the people he paid off were happy to turn the other way. was there no one to look after you? no, there wasn't. his mother is ketterdam: filthy, feral ketterdam. no nurturing mother has he!

So he threatens Alby and Hanna with no qualms, because while he doesn't actually ever intend to hurt children (...not physically anyway, apparently upsetting them is fair game FJJFJD), he knows the power of the threat— the idea of the child— is often more impactful than the actual act itself. ("Inej, I could only kill Pekka’s son once. He can imagine his death a thousand times.") it certainly works on rollins and van eck! he'll make you think of the damn children alright!

inej takes direct action to defend actual children, not just the idea of them, and then we hear in rule of wolves she's hated by the kerch government for it because she's fucking with their profits. (look also to how they flapped about searching for wylan, one rich man's kid, and are completely useless about hundreds of forced indentures. what a surprise...)

she reunites with her parents, but she worries persistently about whether or not they will accept her for who she has become, and we are never quite told whether or not they do. we like to think so, but we don't actually know. and although she gets to see her parents again, her future is on the wraith, not with them.

most people have dead or splintered families, actually. only inej has both parents, and for three - four years, they didn't have a daughter.

The general proximity to death in general is very potent; nina's power, kaz's whole backstory, the camping out in a graveyard. jesper's recklessness and love for fights, inej being ready to die rather than be a captiver again and kaz's response to that being 'not just yet', rather than not at all...

all following into the whole no mourners, no funerals thing!!! the fact that they know they won't be remembered or cared about if they die!!!

Edelman: 'Choosing to stand, as many of us do, outside the cycles of reproduction, choosing to stand, as we also do, by the side of those living and dying each day with the complications of AIDS, we know the deception of the societal lie that endlessly looks toward a future whose promise is always a day away.'

SOC:

Inej's mother and father might still shed tears for the daughter they'd lost, but if Inej died tonight, there would be no one to grieve for the girl she was now.

“No mourners, no funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.”

pick up what I'm putting down guys please please I don't have time to tease this out properly but like. I think kaz and wylan are the linchpins here. (again)

#this is for / the fault of the people who encouraged this full post on the meme lmao #six of crows #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #wylan van eck #inej ghafa #soc meta #soc duology #my post

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11queensupreme11 · 6 months

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I was thinking of baby Percy AU again and just thought of what would happen if Poseidon just… lost her in Valhalla. There was an emergency meeting, he forgot babies shouldn’t be left alone. Left unsupervised, Percy promptly toddled off towards the sunset (the human side of Valhalla) and gets lost amongst the masses. The encounters I’m picturing:

Leonidas chilling in his hammock, reading his book and drinking his wine only to reach down (to get a refill) and grab a baby instead of a bottle. There’s a baby lost in the Sparta training grounds and this man is panicking.

Adam eating his grapes with his family only for his ears to pick up the unmistakable sound of a baby babbling nonsense. He stands immediately and, without saying a single word to his wife or sons, just runs off and comes back cradling a giggling baby which he promptly places on his lap while saying ‘our daughter now’. His family only nods and goes back to what they were doing, as if this is completely normal (it probably is)

Nikola Tesla finds a baby playing among the detritus of his last failed experiment and decides he has found a new student to teach the art of Science(tm) to. She can’t even speak yet? No matter! It’s never too early to learn! Besides, don’t you know babies’ brains are like sponges?? He can teach her so much!

Sasaki Kojiro is out there in the wilderness, becoming one with nature (or whatever it is that he does when he’s not training - is there a time when that man ever stopped?) only to all but trip over a baby lost in the woods. What does a man who only has swords in his mind do?? Why, hand her a stick and teach her how to swing it.

(Almost predictably, Lu Bu does the exact same thing except they meet on the edge of a cliff and he tells her to aim at the sky)

Qin Shi Huang finds a baby blocking his path and instead of doing something normal (like stopping to make sure she’s alright, look around for the parents maybe), simply picks her up, at once recognizes her as a princess (royalty recognizes royalty) and continues on his merry way (he’s heading towards his adoptive mom’s house to show off the new subject/little sister he picked up on the way - he’s gonna teach her everything she needs to know about ruling).

Raiden finds baby Percy in a restaurant - specifically, he finds her well-fed round little body sitting inside a (now empty) plater she had crawled inside of when no one was looking. Raiden orders another plate and the two enjoy a very pleasant lunch together before he takes her back to the sumo training area so she can watch him wrestle everyone into the ground. Percy’s clapping the whole time.

Jack finds her lost and whimpering while skulking around in dark alleyways and, being the gentleman he is, immediately kneels down to offer her a handkerchief, picking her up and looking around for any sign of the parents (lmao, just realized he’s the only one in this list alongside Leo who’s going to make his top priority be finding Percy’s guardian first)

Meanwhile, at the god’s side of Valhalla:

Hades: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST HER.

Poseidon: I told her to stay put.

Hades: SHE’S A BABY POSEIDON.

Poseidon: And? I was a baby once too and followed orders perfectly.

Zeus: and look how you turned out.

(They enlist Anubis to track her down)

THE RAIDEN ONE WHERE SHE EATS EVERYTHING ON THE PLATTER AKSJFJHFBV I CAN JUST IMAGINE HER CHUBBY CHEEKS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

and the nikola one.... i feel like she's actually grow up with more than one brain cell if nikola's the one that raises her (full offense to poseidon lol)

I LOVE EVERY SCENARIO HERE SO MUCH. THE ADAM ONE IS ACTUALLY PRETTY CLOSE TO WHAT HAPPENS IN ACT TWO LOL

i bet you after this incident, they're gonna create the "percy alert". its basically the amber alert, but it's only to look for percy lmao 💀

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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sirmanmister · 6 months

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Realized I forgot to introduce Eileen again LMAO

My sea shanty interest was reignited and I was like “:O Boston is a coastal town I can make a sailor oc!!” And promptly remembered Far Harbour exists and so now she is there :)

She left the mainland after nearly destroying the entire commonwealth for her kiddo Eliza. Blew up the Prydwen, Railroad, nearly collapsed the Minutemen, and eventually destroyed the Institute when they created a synth version of her husband and she realized just how much they were manipulating her. She left Eliza with Nick and fucked off North, a good fifty miles past the Nakano residence, where she fixes up an old boat and fishes the days away in solitude. Nick eventually finds her a year or two later and needs her boat to head to far harbour to find Kasumi Nakano, and they get stranded there together cuz a sea monster basically ate her boat :)

Anyway she’s also from Newfoundland and Labrador, got military training from soldiers she helped guide through the Northwest Passage, and commonly goes by “The Lobstermonger” in Far Harbour due to her hiding her identity out of shame for all she’s done. I <3 her I’m sorry

#she was in a compulsively heterosexual marriage and it’s ONLY the fact that she wasn’t actually in love with her husband that made her #reject the synth copy. she would have gone along with it to the end if she didn’t lowkey hate the guy #he wasn’t bad or anything she just wasn’t happy. she only married him because she got pregnant #she also has lowkey complicated feelings about her daughter too and Kinda resents her a little. she hates that her life was hijacked #loves her daughter of course but lots of it is out of obligation. she guns for Eliza so hard also because she lowkey despises the rest of #the commonwealth and thinks they deserve it but that’s another post #she’s not evil or anything she’s just very very angry about it all #anyway I <3 her #fallout 4 #far harbour #far harbour dlc #fallout #fanart #fallout fanart #fallout 4 fanart #far harbour fanart #mirelurk #original character #oc #oc intro #fallout oc #fisherman #lobstermonger #digital art #serenade draws #Eileen waters #lesbian #gay character #wlw

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obae-me · 1 year

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(adding my two cents lol)

yk that thing where humans will walk into a room for a specific reason, and then they promptly forget that reason? I feel like this would either baffle, concern, or amuse the non-humans. Demons and Angels don’t experience random blanks or brain farts, so it absolutely confuses them when they see it in action lmao

like imagine MC slamming open the door to the common room, and all the demon bros immediately look up from what they were doing, alarmed. Only to find a blank-faced MC who is gazing dazedly around the room in mild confusion and annoyance. Lucifer would probably open his mouth to interject, worried, before MC abruptly slams the door once again, stomping towards their room, cursing under their breath— leaving the demon bros to gape at the closed door, bewildered.

YES!

I can just imagine one of the brothers prepping dinner and working in the kitchen when MC suddenly comes in, only to just stand there and stare confused, and the demon is so weirded out they almost feel offended because they think the strange look is towards them. So they ask what's wrong and MC can only sigh and ask that rhetorical question we all ask and wonder "what did I come in here for?" And the demons can only look on in a little bit of horror? How could they forget something so quickly? Did they hit their head? Did a spell wipe their memory? And so MC will leave empty-handed and then come barging in three minutes later shouting the name of the thing they forgot.

Adding to that too, when you forget what you were saying if someone ever interrupts you or distracts you. I have a feeling that demons in general are terrible at interrupting. They just need to say what's on their mind, but the demons around MC quickly begin to build a better habit of listening because there's been too many instances when MC is telling them something special or important and the demon blurts out something random or they hear a noise and then MC simply can't remember what they were talking about. Makes the demons and sometimes angels (although they're better at listening) feel so guilty.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #asks #anon

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hotxcheeto · 2 years

Text

━ 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, alcohol consumption ( legal ), brief mention of needles ( tattooing ), ex's and awkwardness, fluff lmao

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - I hope you enjoy! I did forget about this for a while but it's back and I really do like this part more than the second!!!!! I'm in a better mental state right now and things have felt good, expect some OG works soon . . .

PREV | NEXT

☾ ONE NIGHT STAND MASTERLIST ☽

To say she felt different was a definitely a statement, and to say that each text message she sent felt like a love letter would be a bit dramatic.

But it was true, you explained to your cat. Poppy sitting pretty in the kitchen windowsill while you moved your hands around like a crazed woman each day something Ellie said would get you excited.

Ellie wasn't like the other girls you'd talked to, and she sure wasn't like Anya who still drunk texted you from time to time which you promptly ignored and then forgot about.

Focusing your energy elsewhere, elsewhere being Ellie and Poppy who did not care about you nor the girl you squealed about each day while practically hugging your phone.

And now the day came, the day you'd set up a real date with the practical stranger, hoping that you weren't psyching yourself up again all for it too fall through the floor like it usually did.

She was straight, or she was taken. She didn't want you or she wanted you so bad but wanted that other girl too.

It was always something, but this time was different. You could feel it.

"Finally." You heard her voice as you stepped up towards her table outside the restaurant, rolling your eyes playfully while hooking your purse on your chair. "Oh shut it, I already told you why I'm running behind."

You sat across from her, hearing her all too familiar chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah. Cat's are evil, I'm telling you." "You don't know Poppy, she's an old soul, she has attachment issues."

You felt like you had the first night you met her, butterflies tickling your insides while with each breath you felt the air escaping you. It was as if she was stealing it away.

"I forgive you.. this time." She shrugged, leaning back in the chair, her hands resting between her legs on her thighs. "I'd hate to have you mad at me.." You rested your head on your palm, crossing your legs in front of you as you met her darkened green eyes.

"..but I'd bet you'd love it. Especially finding ways to get rid of it." "If it was anything like the first time then yeah, and I wasn't even mad then." You felt yourself going hot, instead focusing away on a waiter walking up to the table with a notepad in hand, scribbling a number down.

"Decide what you guys want to drink?" "Coke." Ellie replied without tearing her eyes away from you, making you nervous under her stare.

"Um.. sorry I'll have a mimosa." "You got it." He stared at you for a second longer before walking off leaving you both to yourselves once more.

"How's work been?" You then asked, turning your head to face her once more while a lopsided smirk displayed itself on her lips. "Boring. Jesse's been getting all good clients."

"What do you get the valley girls wanting matching cherry tattoos? Or maybe the dicks that want their dicks done."

Ellie snorted messing with the fork on the table while shrugging.

"Something like that. What about you?" "It's been slow, since you payed me the little visit in my office." Your phone buzzed but you ignored it, continuing on. "Besides that... nothing much." "Oh c'mon, someone like you can't have that boring of a life."

You giggled with a shrug seeing from the corner of your eye a waiter walking towards your table, setting your drinks in front of you.

"I dunno, I've been focusing most of my time to a few certain people." You thanked the waiter, taking a drink of your beverage. "Decide what you want to eat?"

You knew that voice anywhere, glancing up to meet your ex's eyes, throwing an awkward smile on your face last minute. Swallowing harshly while you nodded.

"Yeah, actually. Right?" You turned to Ellie wanting to avoid Anya's face as much as possible while Ellie's eyes went a bit wide nodding, confused as hell it would've made you laugh if you weren't about to fall off your chair.

"Veggie burgers, for me." "Sounds like you, Y/n." You wanted to puke, sending her another sharp smile. "You guys know each other?" Ellie then questioned, biting her lip while Anya spoke for you.

"Yeah, funny enough–" "Long time ago, friends." You shrugged, Ellie again looking at you awkwardly while Anya glared you down.

Ellie said her order, glancing back to you every now and again. Your legs vibrating up and down while you stared straight ahead and prayed that she'd just go away already, and finally she did.

"Everything alright?" Ellie laughed a bit, keeping it light hearted while you nodded. "Yeah, all good over here. Just wasn't expecting to see her." You laughed. "But back onto you.. what do like to do besides go to lesbian bars?" Again Ellie laughed, taking a drink of her soda.

"I draw, obviously." She could've smacked herself in the face for that one, but you giggled getting a grin out of her. "I like to play.. the guitar?" "Is that a question or a statement?"

From the corner of your eye Anya stood at another table, but was looking over at you. Yet you refused to give her your eyes, nodding as Ellie continued.

"Statement. Shit, sorry.. just.." "You're fine. Did you not see me five minutes ago?" You chuckled, adjusting your dress before again resting your chin in your palm. "Yeah I play, my foster dad taught me." "Aw, that was sweet of him." "Yeah he's great. Joel's a good guy." "You still live with him?"

She shook her head, looking down at her hands while playing with them.

"No, he adopted me after a shit ton of shit," She laughed. "but I moved out last year."

You nodded with a hum, your eyes unintentionally glancing away seeing Anya once more at another table. But with her gaze set on you.

"He sounds amazing." You then said, turning back to her. "What about you?" She then changed the subject, leaning back once more.

You took a breath.

"They're alright." You shrugged. "Me and my mom don't really get along but for the most part they're pretty cool. I have a few siblings but that's about it." "Siblings?" You nodded, sipping your drink seeing Anya disappear into the restaurant.

"A sister and a brother. Both older and upstate. But we text and call each other all the time. It's like we're all teenagers still living in the rooms beside each other."

Ellie stuck her bottom lip out, humming. "I'm guessing you're an only child?" "That obvious?" "A little, just the personality gives it away, but only a little." You referenced it with your hand, hoving the pads of your fingers over each other.

"So it's just you and Poppy in the city?" "Yep." You said popping the 'p' with a grin. "She was gift, from my grandma before she passed. My grandma's favorite flower was Poppies, we agreed on the name together before.." "Maybe she really is an old soul."

Ellie winked while you gave her a soft smile, sitting up a bit at that.

"That's a sweet way to think about it. Do you have any pets?" "Not in my apartment. Joel has a dog though, he's old but he's awesome."

Anya then appeared at the table as if she teleported there, just as you were beginning to forget about it all, about her. Sinking back into Ellie's sweet voice that seemed to get excited at the idea of her old pet.

But thus it was interrupted by the she-devil herself.

"Here's your food." "Thanks." You replied sharply with not a care of your tone getting a glance from the girl across from you. "You're welcome Y/n/n." You stared forward at your plate, Ellie thanking her before she walked off.

"You sure she's an old friend?" "I'm not letting her ruin the date, eat and tell me about the dog." You snatched a fry from your plate, hearing Ellie laugh harder then she had the entire time you knew her.

"His name is Vegas." "Vegas?" You smiled. "Yeah, fits him. Trust me." "Will do, I'm guessing he's sweet though." "Very, has trouble getting up and down stairs though so Joel started sleeping on the couch. It's getting closer though.."

"Aw I'm sorry." She moved her shoulders. "Comes with life." "You've got quite the view on death, don't you?" "Just seen a some of it..." You nodded quietly, choosing your next few words. "If it helps.. so have I?"

Taking a few bites of your food, a comfortable silence around you both, allowing you to enjoy your food. Ellie watching you for a moment, deciding if she was going to bring it up, until she made her choice.

"She's not an old friend is she?" You took in a deep breath, opening your mouth but nothing came out. You could see the regret in Ellie's eyes from even asking the question, your phone buzzing once more.

"Hold that question for a sec." You smiled, trying to seem like you were as disheveled and uncomfortable as you were. Turning your screen on to see a few messages from the waitress herself, asking if it was you and who is she. The last being a teasing message poking fun at your taste in women.

"She's an ex. That's all." You said, practically shoving the phone into your back and turning to your alcoholic drink, avoiding Ellie's stare the entire time. "Not a fun one either, so no we are far from friends. But please, just let's get back to you or me. Anything but her."

Ellie wasn't sure though, awkwardly moving her jaw around while trying to push down her unsure feelings. She liked, she did, but your mind was far from her now.

"You alright?" Ellie forced herself to ask, feeling your leg bouncing up and down at your nervous picking at your nails. "Fine, I'm fine. Do you write songs?" "Sometimes. When I'm bored enough, or have good inspiration." You continued to eat while she talked, nodding to her words.

"You should come in for a tattoo." "Trust me I'd love to see you in your element, because fuck that just sounds hot," You smirked, seeing a little blush appear on her freckled cheeks while she looked away, "but a little needle being on my skin for more than a few seconds, yeah I'm opting out for now."

"Well, if you work up the courage." "You'll be the first I call. Have you thought about extending your career with art?" Ellie thought for a second, looking past you, eyes then shooting back to yours. "No, no probably not but when I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut."

She smiled when you began to laugh, then deciding to cover your mouth.

"Sorry, that's adorable, reminds me of my brother. Would you ever go down that path?" "Maybe not now," She shook her head, matching your giggles, "but who knows, right?" "I wanted to be a writer as a kid, still now, working on my book and then the firm. I guess it was always meant to be."

"Guess so, I'd like to read some of that writing." "Hm, well you're making a great case for yourself. None of my friends are allowed too, but your... different?" "Is that so–"

"Would you like the check?"

You could've jumped, and Ellie nearly did, looking to your side as Anya gave you the fakest expression she could probably have mustered in that moment. And you've seen the girl be fake before.

"I guess?" Ellie said quietly looking at you while trying not to break out in laughter, but you were completely frozen, staring down at the table again.

"Alright, be back babe. Sorry, I mean Y/n." Anya snickered, like it was some sort of bad joke her date made and she wanted to pretend she liked them until it was over. "Yeah."

"You know, the food isn't bad here. The staff is terrible though." "I agree." You then spoke softly, trying to pull a happy face when you let her suck you back in. "Maybe next time we stick to an apartment?"

She could tell you perked up at the idea of a 'next time', a genuine beam of energy coming out when you spoke again.

"Poppy would love to meet you? Besides, maybe you can see more than just my bedroom?" "Don't hate the idea. But I did clean recently."

Her eyes then moved behind you once more, a nervous expression crossing her face and flooding her eyes.

"Everything alright?" You grabbed her hand, running your thumb along it gaining her attention before it hit you and you pulled away. "Sorry." "No you're fine.. fuck." She whispered under her breath, rubbing her fingers along her lips.

"What's your favorite season?" She could've replayed the way your face changed a million times over, like a confused puppy before you piped up once more.

"Winter, or fall, I do really like fall. Fires and hot chocolate. Cuddling. It's perfect." You shrugged excitedly, "yours?" "Fall, same reasons too." Her eyes went right passed you once more before Anya again teleported beside the table with the check in hand.

"Here–" Ellie took it from her and pulled her wallet out from her pocket. "Hey wait, we can split." "I got it, don't worry about it." "Ellie!" She smirked at you before shoving her card in the pocket of the check and signing the receipt.

"I said it's fine." She handed it back to Anya who couldn't help but glare at the woman across from you. "Besides, makes up for the terrible service." Anya stood there, almost stupidly while watching Elie hand her back the little black book, your ex walking off without another word.

"Thank you.. for the great date and for paying." "Eh, had to make it up for the shitty surprise you got."

Then, once more, she looked behind you, finally getting you to turn around.

"Hey, what about color?" But you didn't answer, seeing a woman sitting at the table with a familiar face. The girl who'd come to your office with Ellie, and a few others at a table.

But the woman wasn't looking at them, she was now looking at you after she'd been looking at Ellie.

"Pink, or brown. I like off-white too though." You then replied, turning back to her. "And you?" "Green." You began grabbing your bag, placing it on your shoulder while you both stood up awkwardly from the table.

"You want me to walk you home?" You grinned at her, nodding a bit. "If you'd like? And wouldn't mind?" "Shit, farthest from minding at this point." Ellie went to take your hand though it wasn't long lasting.

"So–" "Ellie!" The girl you'd made eye contact with earlier skipped over, brushing passed you in order to hug your date. Ellie seeming taken aback and a bit uncomfortable at the interaction.

"Hey Cat." She gritted her teeth and hugged her back, looking at you standing there trying not to look at them both for too long. Not wanting to seem invasive despite it being your date with her.

"I thought it was you! I wasn't sure though.. it was hard to see you.." She glanced at you yet didn't even care to introduce herself nor decide to turn to you at all. "Here's your card." Anya returned getting your attention while Ellie was handed back her card.

"I'll talk to you later Y/n/n." "What?" Ellie went to talk to you only for Cat to grab her arm, looking at you. "You're the girl Dina was talking about! Shit this is a date, isn't it?" Cat questioned, tilting her head like she was taunting you, but you weren't sure if she meant it that way.

"Sorry, I'm Cat, Ellie's ex-girlfriend. You've gotta be Y/n." "Yeah, actually. Nice to meet you–" "Awesome!" She then turned back to Ellie. "Come sit with us after you're done here."

You shifted uncomfortably, crossing your arms while looking to your date.

"Actually Cat–" "I've gotta go anyway, Poppy's waiting on me back home and besides, they're your friends." You gave her a reassuring smile before grabbing her upper arms and kissing her cheek.

"Just text me later, okay?" "Yeah sure, are you sure though?" Cat seemingly scoffed trying to pull her off towards the table.

"She doesn't need a knight in dull armor Ellie, she's got it." You laughed at the joke, giving Ellie a reassuring squeeze.

"All good, but I'm expecting a good conversation later." "Yeah, yeah of course."

And with that you walked off, hugging your arms as your dress blew in the wind. Your stomach finally dropping at the terrible date that had just took its course and for once you both shared a though.

That was awful. She thought.

"That was awful." You whispered

#ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams #tlou 2 #tlou x reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #nevy writes

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