#did I just miss this section somehow did I accidentally skip over it

[thatswhatsushesaid]

man you guys I have just made myself SO MAD about how literally everyone treats lan xichen after jin guangyao's death in the guanyin temple confrontation.

just starting with nhs's abject refusal to be transparent about whether jgy was or was not attempting to attack him from behind:

then just having to sit here with the growing, dreadful certainty that nhs did something truly heinous to the body of jgy's mother as part of his revenge quest--meng shi, who was a genuinely innocent person:

and then this final question that he asks himself out loud while the rest of the cast of characters are still hovering around, which no one answers, of course, because no one else can:

(plot twist: or can they??? put a pin in that for now)

but this is the moment that galls me the most. when lan qiren shows up and sees both lwj and lxc not being their usual peerless jade selves, he rounds on lxc, of course and says this:

I don't know, lan-xiansheng, what in the fucking world do you think is wrong with your oldest nephew, who you single-handedly raised, maybe read the fucking room for five seconds and figure it out?? "lan xichen's face was full of an unspeakable grief," god this would be a really great moment for lan wangji to come to his brother's side to provide some support of some kind, even if he's not great with these kinds of displays, because lxc cared for lwj throughout his seclusion--oh, wait, what's that? he and wwx have just fucked off entirely??

[edited to add: @leatherbookmark pointed out that lqr’s response here may be a translation issue!! i retract much of my salt about lqr here… but god, lxc is still so devastated. he’s grief-stricken.]

(lan jingyi knows what's good, don't bring up that guy around lqr)

but uhhhhh sure wangji, your brother is clearly /gestures, like that, go ahead and bail.

this bit from the next chapter is what really grinds my gears tho, because I somehow forgot that wangxian's decision to withhold such crucial information back from lxc during the temple was 1) so fucking overt, and 2) explicitly confirms that they did not want to share information with lxc that would make him feel more sympathetic towards jgy:

...are you kidding me right now!! "even now I still don't think we should tell him" + "each could only deal with their own troubles... comfort was useless. it'd all be in vain"

/shoves both of you jerks into a mud puddle

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House - Part 8

In which we find out what Ivar’s “long night” entails... the warnings list also spoils the surprises, but do read it if you need to. This part is over 5k words, and the next post will finish the scene with almost 5k more. Ivar takes his time!!!

Warnings for: D/s dynamics including in-scene negotiation (always talk BEFORE you play folks) bondage with ropes, fear play, knife play. if you’re not ok with those last two, you can stop reading when that part of the scene begins and skip right to the next chapter. I’ve separated the sections at just the right spot so that you won’t miss anything else.

Many thanks and credits to @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​ for this GORGEOUS moodboard!!!!

Catch up:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Ivar’s room is warmer than the kitchen. Which is good, because your body has already started entering that keyed-up state that makes you shiver and tremble.

You’re ready for a night of heavy play, really you are, but as you watch Ivar settle onto his bed, setting his crutches to the side, you’re hit by a burst of softer, warmer feelings too. Ivar Lothbrok has always been a closed book. Controlled, distant, keeping everyone at arm’s reach with his sarcasm and wit even as these exact traits draw you to him like a moth to a flame. But now, he’s finally letting you in. Even if it is only a little bit at a time.

He’s been so attentive to your desires. He’s created the most amazing scenes, the most tantalizing games, to set your body and soul on fire in ways you had thought were only ever going to happen in your fantasies. And yet, is he getting what he wants? You still haven’t seen him come. He’s never even let you try. You’d hardly noticed that at first, given all the wild new experiences he’s been putting you through, but at this moment you are almost overwhelmed by your need to give something back to him now.

You approach him softly. You would kneel at his feet but then you couldn’t embrace him like you want. So you leave the games behind and sit down at his side, take his hand between your own.

His gaze is locked onto yours. Watching indulgently, waiting to see what you’ll do. Maybe he doesn’t always need to be in charge. Although there’s a weight behind those eyes as he lets you massage his hand softly, as you lay kisses on each of his knuckles, that makes you feel like all the control is still his. What’s that term that horseback riders use? Letting you have your head. His grip on the reins is loose, but they are still in his hands.

You want to show him your gratitude. That’s what this moment feels like, this almost-intolerably warm bubble that’s bursting up behind your chest. You’ve lost track of how many shimmering, mind-blowing orgasms you’ve had since this game began, and Ivar has not even once asked you to pleasure him. You have to give him that now. It’s not even guilt, it’s a craving. An imperative coming from the deepest part of yourself.

You lean in to kiss him on the lips. Still he watches, tipping his chin far enough to receive your affections, not moving enough to influence what you’re going to do next. Your lips travel to his cheekbone, his temple, his jawline. There is a part of you that can still hardly believe you are allowed to touch this perfect, angel’s face.

When your lips pluck at his again he opens to you, and when he kisses back he can’t help but do it his way, sucking at your bottom lip, meeting your tongue with his own. His hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers carding through your hair.

You lean into his body, letting your hands travel over his shoulders and chest, slipping under his arms to embrace the broad expanse of his back. You still can’t shake the feeling that you’re getting away with something, somehow, just by touching him this freely. It’s not that he’s reluctant, he’s just . . . still. Allowing himself to be caressed.

He pulls you in tighter, responding with more life the longer you two keep making out. You were almost worried you were doing something wrong, or maybe he was bored by something as simple as kissing, but now his body is writhing along with yours and you’re falling together into the sheets.

His fingers trace over your skin. The scalloped edging of the garter belt’s lace, overlapping the row of thin ribbons that form the side straps of your panties, give him plenty of textural interest to play with while you slip your hands up under his shirt.

His skin is smooth and warm, his abs springing up into your hand as he lifts his upper body high enough to pull his shirt over his head. Several locks of hair cascade down around his face in the shirt’s wake; you reach up to play with them immediately.

“Will you let your hair down?” you ask shyly. For months you’ve dreamed of what it would feel like to run your fingers along his scalp, through his long, thick hair.

He thinks about it, smiles, and tugs the elastic out of his little bun. The dark, silky strands slide between your fingers, and Ivar closes his eyes in bliss as you scratch softly along his scalp.

He finally seems to be relaxing. With your hands wrapped around his head you kiss him again, and he responds eagerly, his fingertips dancing along your ribs.

You want to be his good girl. You want to make him feel even better. Without breaking the kiss, you run your hand down over his tattooed pecs, skimming along his abs and sliding your fingertips just beneath his belt. Dipping under just a little, in a slow side-to-side; not so much teasing as asking permission. Your mouth goes dry just thinking about getting your hands on Ivar’s cock.

His abs tense. He’s pulling away. Oh no, a voice in your head says. What did you do wrong.

“Don’t you want to know what I’ve planned for tonight?” There’s mischief in his eyes.

You roll your body against him. “What if I have plans, too?”

Something drops out behind his smile. That’s not what he wanted to hear you say. Still, his smile is indulgent. “Do you.”

You’re committed. You run your hand down his belly, the direction of travel obvious. “I want to make you feel . . . as good as you’ve been making me.”

Ivar leans in, smirking. “It’s a good plan.” He nips at your lip. “Mine’s better.”

And just like that, he’s rolling away from you, reaching down to tug something out from under the bed.

“Are you very familiar with shibari?”

You sit up beside him. Ivar hauls a duffle bag up onto the bed, filled with neat coils of rope. They’re in several colors: black, teal, natural hemp brown. Ivar lifts two braided twists of brilliant crimson. You reach out to touch one; it’s as smooth and silky as it looks. “I’ve seen it. Never got to experience.”

Ivar taps one bundle of rope against your hip. “Would you like to try?”

The pictures you’ve seen online mostly feature blissed-out looking women bound elaborately from head to toe, wrapped in knots and open twisting weaves that turn their bodies into works of savagely sexual art. You look at the scarlet rope in Ivar’s hands, imagine it embracing your curves, binding and supporting your limbs, serving your body up to him while taking away all of your control. You find yourself nodding, vigorously.

Ivar is nodding too, his smile thick and broad.

“I’m not sure if I’m flexible enough.” You’re thinking of some of the contortions you’ve seen the models pulling off, seemingly effortlessly.

He shakes his head, bemused. “We will start with something simple. And comfortable.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sit up here, at the edge of the bed.” He unfurls a length of rope, holding it doubled in his hand. The first loop goes over your head, loosely. “Stand in front of me,” he orders softly.

His fingers brush down the center of your body as he straightens and smooths the two cords descending from the knot at the center of your chest.

“Your job, aside from following my directions, is to tell me immediately if any part of this does not feel completely comfortable. Do you understand?”

You nod, but he waits for you to give a full vocal answer. “Yes.”

He ties a knot into the doubled rope, about a hand’s-length below the first. Unintentionally, his knuckles brush against the bottoms of your breasts. “Something that feels a little bit too tight at first can become a major problem as time goes on. So you must tell me right away if any wrap is too tight.”

“Ok.”

Another knot, even with your belly. The small, accidental touches that come with his work are maddeningly tantalizing. Probably because you’re not used to standing in full lingerie in front of a guy while he concentrates on something other than tearing you apart. Ivar’s ability to delay his gratification is truly legendary. “I don’t plan on putting you in any stressful positions tonight. But if any part of your body starts tingling or going numb, I also need to know that as soon as you even think you feel it.”

“I understand.”

His knuckles brush the fronts of your thighs as he creates the next knot. Then he reaches up to trace the scalloped black edge of your bra. “We can do this naked next time,” he suggests, “but since you have never done this before, I want us to see how you react while you feel less…exposed. It can be surprisingly intense to have your whole body bound.” He presses the rest of the rope between your legs, reaching around to pull the whole length of it through to the other side. You step your legs a little further apart to let him work, enjoying the feel of the smooth hemp dragging softly across your inner thighs. “Which is what I would like to do, if this first section feels alright.”

You nod.

“Turn around.”

You’re disappointed not to be able to keep looking at Ivar’s face, but at the same time it’s freeing to be unobserved for a time, free to go inward and just feel everything about this strange and exciting new experience. He’s pulling the long ends of the rope up through the loop behind your neck now. Stopping before it gets tight, he coaxes you to step back closer to him. You feel his breath on your shoulder as he reaches around to check the level of the first knot he placed against your upper chest.

You start to realize what he’s creating with this rope when one strand comes around either side, under your arms, and loops through the ropes hanging between each knot, separating them out to form a diamond shape. It’s that lovely interlocking pattern you’ve seen in pictures before, wrapping the body in a net-like harness.

The first pass tightens the cords above your breasts, the second below.

“Breathe for me.” Ivar takes a deep inhale behind you, demonstrating what he wants. “Too tight?”

You are certainly aware of the ropes around your ribcage, and while they constrict just a little when you take a deep breath, it’s not restrictive, or scary. “No. It’s still easy to breathe.”

“Good.”

The pattern continues around your waist, taking all the slack out of the line so that by the time he has opened up the diamond beneath your navel, the rope between your legs is cinching against your vulva. You shift on your feet a little, testing the angles your movement can get on the tantalizing pressure there.

Ivar’s fingers follow the rope down, checking exactly what you’re doing. His chuckle is dark, and your breath catches at the pleasure of even the edges of his fingers sliding across your labia, through the panties. “I have heard that a knot can be placed in the rope down here, too. An experienced Dom can determine just the right spot.”

‘H-have you done this a lot?”

Ivar makes a musing noise. “Here and there. It is not always easy to find someone to practice on. I like to think that I have mastered the basics.”

You make an appreciative noise, rolling your body against the ropes that now beautifully and snugly encase you from chest to hips. “I don’t know who would turn this down. It feels amazing.” You feel, in fact, just a little bit like you’re on drugs. Grounded in the minute sensations of your body, and yet your mood is soaring, floating and ephemeral.

Ivar’s hands envelop your waist from behind and you almost swoon. They are so large, and so warm, stroking each diamond-shaped island of skin between the ropes. “Then you would like to continue?” He’s feeling it too; his tone is deeper and lighter both at once, as ultra-focused as you are.

“Yes.”

“Can I bind your arms?”

Oh yeah. All this, and you’re not even technically tied up yet. You take a deep breath, turning to look at Ivar sitting on the edge of his bed and staring up at you with dazzled eyes. “Yes.”

His gaze slips lower, and you turn more fully to show off his completed work. “Wow, you look…so good.”

You have to agree. The knotted bands of crimson both bind and enhance your every curve, stacking onto the effect of the silver-embroidered lingerie to make you look like a stolen treasure, the richest captive prize.

“I’m glad I chose the red,” Ivar says. “This shade compliments your skin tone so well.”

You look down at yourself, just reveling in the obscene glory he’s created of you. And rock your hips against that lower rope again. The interconnected tightness of the full harness is fascinating, erotic. The cords pull across your shoulders, around your breasts, encircling your navel.

And Ivar is not even done. “Can you stack your wrists behind your back?”

You turn around, showing him that you can.

“Do you think you could stay that way for . . . twenty minutes?”

You roll your shoulders, testing your muscles. “I think so.”

You feel him start to slide the ropes around. “I can release this quickly if your arms start to ache.”

Something else starts aching as Ivar continues to restrain you. The snugness around your wrists is enticing, and oddly comforting. As are the deft movements of his fingers as he lines up the wraps around your forearms. It feels like he’s sheathing them in several rows, and you let your hands go limp. They don’t need to do anything right now. They can rest.

Ivar’s fingertips dance up your arms when he is done. He draws you to face him again, and you do so, almost feeling like he’s put you into a trance. Normally you would feel awkward with someone just looking at you, like he is, saying nothing. But all nestled up in the embrace of the ropes, you’re happy just to stare back at him. His wide eyes show you that you look just as lovely on the outside as you feel on the inside.

His hands run over your upper body, in admiration of his work. He follows a similar pattern he had traced with the pinwheel earlier. You wonder if he’s going to bring that out again, now that you are bound and cannot escape. Your nipples harden at the thought of how vulnerable you are. And yet, you feel so safe here in Ivar’s room.

“I would like to bind your legs, if you think you could lay on the bed. It may be less comfortable on your arms, though.”

“Let’s try.”

You end up sitting up against the head of the bed, propped with a few pillows while he starts at your ankles, binding them together with a little knot in between. “Do you want to leave your shoes on?” he asks. “I love the heels, but if they are distracting you I’ll take them off.”

“They look cute,” you say. Luckily, they are not the kind that pinch you anywhere. “Leave them on.”

Ivar smiles and continues wrapping the rope upwards, creating a ladder pattern of staggered twists up and over your knees. Watching the precise movements of his arms as he places the cords just so, pulling the tail ends up and between your legs with slow, controlled motions so that they never slap against your skin, you find yourself hypnotized, dissolving on the inside into a warm and cared-for goo.

In no time at all, your legs have been constricted down to a mermaid’s tail.

“How do you feel,” Ivar asks, his breath edging on a whisper.

“Mmm,” you reply. He runs his hand up the side of your leg, skimming the skin between the rectangular windows sectioned off by the rope. You watch his hand dreamily until he bends to insert his face into your line of sight.

He says your name, gently urging you to focus. His eyes are careful and curious. “Are you with me?”

You smile for him, pushing through the trance to focus on being a little bit more of yourself again. “Yes. I feel . . . spaced out, that’s all. Not scared.” You shift against your bonds, just to feel how your arms and legs can’t go anywhere. “I like it.” You feel snug, safe, and somehow calm and excited both at once.

Ivar’s answering smile is indulgent. You can see how much pride he feels, having brought you to this state. His fingers slide along the edge of the binding just below your hips, the wrap that cuts a line across your bare skin above the lace top of your stockings.

“What now?” you ask.

Ivar dips his head, looking at you from under his brows as his cheek pulls into a crooked smile. “Now, we play.” His fingers rake around the sides of your hips, just intense enough to make you squirm.

Squirming is an interesting experience in these ropes. They tighten in unexpected places, calling your attention to various sections of your body, leaving you no room for any thoughts outside of the purely sensory. Ivar’s fingers trace up your sides, and he bends his head to lavish kisses inside the diamond at the center of your abdomen.

It’s a tender spot, made more vulnerable by the fact that your arms are locked behind your back. Tingles buzz through your whole body as the instinctive, survival parts of your brain try to make sense of what is happening. Ivar’s touch is loving, however, strong yet safe, and you melt happily into the buzzing confusion he’s made of your nervous system.

The constant snugness around your limbs makes you feel free, paradoxically. The obvious, concrete reminder that you are fully controlled gives you permission to let go, to stop monitoring yourself or holding anything back. As Ivar’s hands and lips travel across your body, you tell him, in a series of gasps, little moans, and even more primal noises, exactly how he’s making you feel. There’s no way you could hold any of it back. Every inch of your skin, every muscle in your body belongs to him now, and answers to his call.

Ivar makes his own growling sort of sound. “I’m going to move you,” he warns, voice thready like he too is overcome by something deeper than normal words. His strong arms grasp you about the legs and pull you further down the bed. Then he lifts you onto your side, grasping hands eager to explore more regions of your body.

There’s not an inch of you that you don’t want to give to him. The pattern of the ropes has locked your body into something that makes you feel beautiful from head to toe, and you’re not surprised that Ivar wants to explore you from every angle. You can just feel that everything from your ankles to the breadth of your shoulders has been enhanced into an erotic offering.

And yet, you are more than just an object for his use. Ivar remembers to readjust the pillows, to make certain that you are settled into a comfortable configuration as you lay trussed-up on your side across the bed. He kisses your cheek, then his lips ghost across your own in a tantalizing almost-kiss that awakens your desire for him immediately.

But Ivar’s lips are gone before you can kiss him back and keep him there, trailing down your shoulder and the outside of your arm as he moves to admire the ropes that crisscross your back. You are reminded of your longing to take his cock into your mouth. You wonder if he really realized that was what you were offering, before he took out the ropes. Although perhaps he just wanted to get you this way first.

You want to tell him of your wish, to offer this to him again. The need inside of you to give back something, anything to this tantalizing devil of a man is growing enough to choke you. And yet, the trancelike effect of the ropes is robbing you of your ability to speak. The need to direct anything, to choose anything, fades away under the constant sensory input reminding you of Ivar’s control.

His hands across your ass are heavenly. There’s not much ropework there: two strands emerge from between your legs, lining your crack like a thong before separating out to form the diamond harness that wraps your torso. Your leg binding ends well below the swell of your butt muscles. All that sensitive flesh is open and free, aside from the thinnest satin of your panties. You try to imagine how the red rope looks where it cuts across the center of the detailed pattern of silver embroidery on black.

Ivar’s fingers find the edge of your underwear, sliding along and lifting the scalloped hem from the top of your hip along the full curve of your glutes. He pauses halfway down, and pushes the fabric back a little farther. He chuckles. “Are you aware that Ubbe left a bite mark on your ass?”

Breath rushes into your lungs, waking you up a little. “No,” you answer simply.

Ivar only sounds amused. “Sloppy.” He has only ever seemed amused by the whole arrangement, but it’s only natural that you feel just a bit apprehensive when this topic comes up. After all, the whole thing has been framed as an excuse for Ivar to threaten you with punishment. There might be one coming now.

“I am reminded,” he smirks, “that you wanted a little pain tonight.”

Your body curls in a little, your bound knees pulling up closer toward your chest. Which doesn’t do much to protect your ass. Ivar gives it a little slap; not a painful one, but it makes you jump anyway. Your senses are so heightened right now.

“While I did enjoy giving you that spanking”—his hand soothes over you bottom—“now is not the right time to do something like that again. Impact play while you’re already in the ropes… I’m not going to overwhelm you like that tonight.” His fingers lift, dragging circles in your skin lightly enough to tickle. “Rope bondage is more suited for the more subtle kinds of sensation.”

Indeed, those light tickling strokes are sending tingles through your entire backside. You relax the tightness in your abs, letting your hips swell back softly, your core awakening to Ivar’s playful exploration of your hindquarters.

Maybe it’s your imagination, but his fingers seem to return often to where he had pointed out that bite mark. It makes you wonder how Ubbe would react to seeing you now, like this. Would he treat you with as much care as Ivar has?

It’s hard to picture it. More likely he’d use the rope around your wrists as a handle, just to sink in balls-deep and fuck you harder.

Ivar’s fingertips swirl down to your inner thighs, taunting you with the idea that he might start taking advantage of your position now too. Since he has literally tied your legs together, it might take a little creativity to get at your clitoris, but with your knees bent like this it wouldn’t be too hard to slide anything up into your pussy. Just the thought makes your body tingle, swell, and open to him.

Ivar shifts toward the edge of the bed. Your eyes had been closed, enjoying every tiny sensation, but the sound of his crutches against the floor causes them to open.

He doesn’t go far, crossing the room to his computer desk. You remain completely motionless, so blissed out from the trance of the scene that you barely even have the focus to wonder what he might be getting. You could crane your neck, look up far enough to see what he’s doing, but why? Whatever he’s going to do, he’s going to do. Ivar is in complete control here, and it feels so good just to trust him to take care of you.

He opens a drawer, then closes it. It’s easy to identify that sound. You let your eyes drift shut. He comes back, sits down beside you on the bed. And then, an even more distinctive sound: the “shink” noise of his switchblade knife springing open.

“I only meant to introduce shibari tonight,” Ivar says as your eyes land on the naked blade in his hand, “but since you had such a big reaction to the knives today…” he flips it a few times and smirks down at you.

It’s hard to describe the way your body responds to that knife. Your heart starts to race, your skin breaks out in prickles. Your breathing probably stops. Your pussy, in particular, clenches up and then floods with warmth.

Ivar watches it all. You have no idea what kind of expression he can read in your face. He ceases the casual flipping and holds the knife up in the space between you. “Is looking at it enough,” he muses, “or would you like me to touch you with this?”

Every bare part of your skin tingles. Here you are now, his perfect victim. There’s nothing you can do to protect yourself from that cold blade. He leans in just a little closer, but otherwise just watches your face. And waits.

That was a serious question, it seems. He’s really going to make you ask for it. You’re not going to be able to get away with just playing the silent victim here if you want a taste of that thing. It’s a hard decision to make, though. When your survival instincts are this keyed up, can you really say yes? But you don’t want to say no either. Not when one of your secret, darkest kinks is staring you in the face. An opportunity you can’t dare to turn away from. But no words come.

Ivar seems to understand your predicament. “Shake your head if you want to say no,” he says quietly. “Nod if you’re saying yes.” With the hand that is not holding the knife, he gives your arm a reassuring pet. “It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

It takes effort to take your eyes away from the knife, to focus on Ivar’s face again. He looks patient, and totally accepting.

You nod your head.

You might call the smile that breaks over Ivar’s face “gleeful,” but it runs darker than that. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and brings the blade closer to your skin.

He pauses. “What are your safewords?”

You have lick your lips before you can answer. “Yellow if I need a break. Red to stop.”

Ivar nods. “If you say ‘red’ I will put the knife away and take your arms out of the rope immediately. If you say ‘yellow’ we’ll talk, and figure out what you need so you can keep enjoying yourself.”

You nod, and the knife moves toward you again.

You expect him to start somewhere simple, and not too threatening, like your arm. He’s been so kind all night. Building you up so gradually through all these new experiences. But that knife is coming right toward your face. A dozen different muscles tense across your body. You would plead with him with your eyes, but you can’t look away from that blade. You hold your breath as Ivar lays it flat against your cheek.

It’s cold, and unyielding. You freeze, afraid to move wrong lest it slice you accidentally, although you know that deep down you still trust him completely.

“My gorgeous, helpless thing.” The knife drags slowly, a millimeter at a time. “What have you gotten yourself into.” It’s only the flat side, nothing sharp, but your body wants to shudder anyway. “Is this what you’ve been craving?”

He lifts it away from your skin, showing you the wicked edge. A weird sob comes out of your mouth when you try to answer. What a word choice, ‘craving.’ You feel desperate and not in control, although you know that you could end the scene the second that you want to. You are, in fact, enjoying freaking out.

Ivar gives you a condescending little smile like he understands this completely. “I can give you what you need, little one.” He leans in closer, steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, and the flat of the knife comes back to your face. “You only have to tell me your every desire.”

You trust him, but it’s impossible not to flinch when that blade trails off the edge of your jaw and you can feel the scratch of the tip. Except, your reflexes are afraid that flinching will make it worse, and so you clench up instead, the extra tension coming out in a high-pitched little cry.

Ivar watches your face carefully, but when no safeword comes he moves that sharp sharp tip to the swell of your shoulder. “You’re so responsive,” he muses, and drags the point along your arm.

You gasp, you can’t help yourself. You have no idea how much pressure would leave a mark, how much more might leave little beaded drops of red in its wake. You lift your head to look more closely at what he’s done.

He hasn’t done anything, yet. It’s all in your head, and you try to loosen up a little. “No marks on your arms, I remember,” he reassures.

The knife lifts, and hovers lower.

You can’t really see the skin of your flank. Ivar turns his hand, brushing you first with the back of his knuckles, inside one of the diamond openings over your ribs. Warning you where the knife is about to come. It’s soothing and sadistic both at once, isn’t it. The blade is cold as it settles upon your skin, and when he rocks it onto one edge, your breath becomes more and more shallow. He might actually hurt you here. You had only said ‘no marks’ where someone would see.

You whine between your teeth.

Ivar tips his head so that it’s even with yours, checking in. When you don’t give him a safeword he looks back to his work.

The knife lifts, then returns in a slightly different place. He tilts it up to its point, just as he did on your arm, and drags it in a short, slow line. It doesn’t feel the same as it did on your arm. The sensation is so much sharper, setting off much louder warning bells inside your head. If you don’t stop him, will Ivar let it cut your skin? Your breath is catching in little gasps, and there’s a pressure starting to build behind your eyes.

Ivar takes the knife away. “What are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“Um,” you start, struggling to control your breath well enough to give a coherent answer. “Um, I know that you won’t hurt me, but this is just scarier than I thought it would be.”

He nods, listening, and holding the knife well away from your body. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “Yes, and,” you force yourself to be assertive, just as Ivar wants you to be, “I’m not sure that I’m ready to actually be cut today.”

Ivar’s smile is reassuring, his blue eyes blazing just for you. “And it’s ok if you’re never ready to go that far.” He flourishes the knife a little. “I’m enjoying every second of what your body does every time I even bring this thing near you.”

He moves down a little more, and puts his free hand on your hip. The simple touch is so reassuring, so warm, that those tears start brimming up against your eyelids.

You can tell that Ivar sees them. You remember he had said he wanted to see you cry. But he had probably meant from pain, not from tender emotion like this. You attempt to blink them back. Ivar squeezes your hip. “Breathe with me, y/n.” He takes a deep inhale, coaching you to do the same.

You pull the air deep into your lungs, expanding your ribs against his bondage. You keep your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he exhales. “I need you to keep breathing. And don’t be afraid to tell me when you’ve had enough.”

You take one more full, deep breath. “I haven’t,” you say in a sultry voice that sounds a little more like your own. “Not yet.”

“Good.” Ivar lifts the knife again, setting it against the swell of your hip in the wake of his retreating hand.

Your breathy cry is a little closer to a moan this time. It feels much better there, a bit more sexy and a bit less terrifying. As he scratches a few slow lines across your skin, you focus on breathing deeply and watching his hand control the blade deftly upon your skin, fine-tuning the pressure to give you exactly what you asked for. The sensation of threat, without any real injury.

“If this were a movie, I would cut your panties off.” He slides the blade along their edge, setting off goosebumps everywhere and reawakening your core with fresh tingles. “But these are much too wonderful to damage.” He cocks his head the other way. “Although, I suppose that I paid for them, and I could always buy you more…”

He slips the blade underneath the lacy, scalloped edge, fingertips of the other hand sneaking under too, to hold the fabric taut. When you don’t try and stop him, you feel pressure and then a ripping noise begins.

The sudden looseness in the fabric floods your pussy with arousal. You’re exposed to him now, and his teasing fingers are quick to take advantage of that as he completes his work. It takes a second cut to free the garment from your body fully, and even the simple sensations of him sliding the remnants out from under the ropes and fully off you are distinctly turning you on.

You hear him close the knife, put it away. Then both his hands are on you, soothing over every spot his blade had threatened. He starts at your hip, bending down to press kisses into your skin, his firm hands running over the expanse of your cheeks. He drags himself up the bed behind you, until he can kiss that diamond window over your ribs where you almost lost it.

Next Part Here

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[some-dr-writings]

Hajime/Izuru x Childhood Best Friend Reader One-shot: The Ties That Bind

One moment Izuru was sitting in that plain, empty room, hidden away from the world, the next he was suddenly being dragged through those halls, bursting through some door to be blinded by the snow-white world. He was being dragged along by you. Just as always you were a wild card, and because of that, you were predictable. It had been quiet for a month now, so he was expecting you to do something, but breaking him out from that cell so directly instead of sending him a note telling him to do so himself because you were too tired to do it was a first. Still…

“This is boring.” You slowed your pace, a yawn escaping you turned to him. Shivering you hugged him, resting your chin on his shoulder, allowing him to hear the soft humming rumbling deep in your throat. “Then… if that’s that case, why don’t we go on a date?” “A date?” Taking a few steps back he could see your ever droopy eyes, a tiredness that always clouded them, making them almost nonexpressive, yet in that moment he could still see a smile. “Do you not care for your red string?” You were perplexed for a moment before realizing what he spoke of. You just shrugged walking away for the street. “Who cares what a string says, I just wanna have fun with you today. Though if it concerns you, I’m not tied to anyone, it broke.” “Broke?” Now THIS was new. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before.” “…… Mmmmmaybe, but it’s true.” As you climbed up onto the fence that surrounded the school to walk atop it, Izuru looked to his pinkie, his gaze tracing that red ring.

The red string of fate. He knew of it, how the individual or individuals at the other end of the twine was one’s soulmate, a person absolutely perfect for them. He also knew how not everyone had one, like himself... almost… He did have a red string, but it was more like a ring around his finger, there was no extra to lead anywhere, only himself, though there was one section that seemed a bit frayed. He also knew that if a person’s soulmate died the string would either disappear or if there somehow was absolutely no one else compatible it would simply lead to the deceased’s grave, but breaking… what could that possibly mean? After you hopped off the end of the fence Izuru caught you, and just held you close, studying you for a moment before placing you down.

Adjusting your backpack you skipped down the walkway, occasionally slowing your pace and turning around to see Izuru. “Hmm… What to do, what to do.” You had hopped up onto another stone fence, balancing atop it with your arms outstretched, attempting to keep balance even as that wintry wind raced past. “Did you know who your string was attached too?” “My old best friend, Hajime.” Before Izuru could say another word, you disappeared behind the fence, a loud sound of metal crashing followed by footfalls after. Leaping up he managed to grab on and just barely pulled himself up, throwing half his body over it, finding you hopping off a garbage can and dragging yourself onto a roof. “What are you doing?” “Shortcut… I thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink.” You hummed to yourself as if still mulling over it despite already going through with the idea. And so Izuru followed.

You trotted across snow covered roofs, skipping from one building to the next, occasionally going up a few steps only to go down even more. “What happened to Hajime?” You slowed your pace almost coming to a stop, but not quite. You sat on the edge of the roof, letting your feet dangle off the edge. You wiped those sleepy tears from the corners of your eyes, leaning against Izuru who stood beside you. “I’m… not sure actually. He could be dead, he could be alive, he could be somewhere in-between like… uh…” You yawned, scooching yourself off the roof, landing on another roof, taking a few steps forward in order to keep balance, slipping on the slick ice. You turned around, watching Izuru hop off the roof, landing effortlessly. “maybe a coma, or just asleep? I think I see an’ hear him sometimes, but…” You locked eyes with him, as if doing so would serve as some hint to puzzle out the swirling thoughts in your mind. “it could just be me seeing something that’s not really there… like my mind playing tricks.”

Suddenly that loud whistle sounded, startling the daylights out of you. You looked to Izuru in confusion, him holding you close. “You were going to fall.” “Ooh… Thank you!” You so earnestly smiled, a bright blush flushed on your cheeks, a little giggle escaped you. “Ah~ I feel so giddy right now.” When that whistle sounded again you seemed to notice something. “We should go before we miss the train!” Ripping yourself from his embrace you skipped across the roof reaching the little train station, and with a mighty leap, you landed on the train that had just began to move. Izuru raced after you without a second thought. You just did whatever, but you weren’t dumb. Why did you leap onto a train them? You knew how fast they could get. Were you going to break in or jump somewhere else? But… you just… sat on the train? Izuru sat behind you, letting you lean against him as he held on, keeping the pair of you from falling off.

The loud wind crashed about, and your vision was blurred. Though this was a possibility it was not a likely one, even for you, he was more so expecting that if you were going to hop on a vehicle it would be sneaking onto the bed of the truck. This train… were you perhaps leading him to the beach? It was the most likely option, which was not likely of you, but because it was unlikely for you, you would do that, since you on occasion would do something more likely to spice up not doing the likely things, though it’s not like you were doing it on purpose, you just did whatever you wanted, and it happened to be in this pattern. This was what he tried occupying his mind with on the train ride. His mind kept drifting back to your red string, and your old best friend. What could have happened? For the first time in his life, Izuru was at a complete loss as to an answer. The more he thought on it, the more lost he got, and knowing such an endeavor could drive him mad he tried preoccupying himself with over-analyzing you, but… what happened to your old friend, and why did you look to him for an answer, was it because he reminded you of this Hajime character? This thought process kept going on for several stops till you suddenly leaped off, and Izuru chased after you.

He watched as you took off your shoes, tossing them behind yourself to which Izuru caught. You spun around lightly kicking up the sand by the calm drifting waves. “So it was the beach.” “Yeah… there’s not many people, it beautiful, I think it’s romantic.” “… Did you tell Hajime about your string leading to him?” “No, and I never asked if he knew who his lead to either.” You came to a stop before that bright, crystal clear ocean. The whole world seemed to be at peace in that moment… too peaceful, like something was missing or it was empty. “Huh?” Your companion lifted you off the ground, one arm cradling your shoulders, the other holding your legs up under your knees. “You’ll hurt yourself if you leave your feet out in this cold for too long, let alone if they touch the water.” “… Okay.” You simply leaned into him, snuggling into his shoulder, a bright smile creasing your lips, along with a blush dusting your cheeks. Izuru held on tightly, making sure you wouldn’t run off again. Then he began to stroll along the shoreline. Even if he didn’t care for much, he had to agree that this view was objectively beautiful, many people would likely pay good money for a photo of the moment, but this was one for only you and he to share.

“… Why didn’t you say?...” Looking down to you he found you had fallen asleep… for a moment. “Hmm? Kamukura? You say something?” “Why didn’t you tell Hajime?” “Why I didn’t tell him?” You kept seeming like you were going to fall asleep any moment, your eyes closed, but Izuru could feel your breathing and heartbeat, you were still awake, even if you were fighting to do so. “Hmm… why I didn’t tell him… Well… I’m not sure if I remember… Oh, uh. Maybe if I try remembering him, I’ll remember why.” You shifted yourself, now sitting up in Izuru’s arms, your hands simply resting on his shoulders. You just stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. Then you ran your fingers through his hair, pulling it all back, away from his face. “… Yeah, that’s more like it.”

“Hajime Hinata. He was my best friend for my whole life till he disappeared, and I met you. Even in my earliest memories he was there. When I was little, before I was diagnosed with narcolepsy Hajime and I would sneak out at night and he’d stay up with me, flashlight in hand, protecting me from the dark. I think I only stayed awake then because I was scared of the dark…” A light chuckle bubbled up from you. “One time, the batteries in the light died and we both panicked because we were going for a walk in the park at night, and we had no idea how to get back home without it, so we ended up hiding out in the gymnasium pretending it was our secret base and we had to protect it from the monsters that were coming after us. The moment the sun began to rise we booked it home. We almost got away with it but being little kids, we accidentally let it slip and our parents found out and grounded us… and, uh… Yeah! We, we started sneaking out as retaliation for not getting to sleepover with each other anymore or at least for a while? but us sneaking out was why we weren’t allowed to sleepover anymore. But we were little kids then, so I guess we didn’t completely understand the situation… or we just wanted to be spiteful brats…” You smirked, nodding to yourself and crossed your arms. “Yeah, I think we just wanted to be brats, that feels right… Hmm, but I don’t remember much about any red string back then…”

You stared at Izuru, searching for something, just like before. “Before Hajime moved to Hope’s Peak we lived in a more suburban area. There wasn’t much around, so we’d usually walk or take a train to the big city. There was this one arcade we always went too. We’d spend whole days there sometimes and…. Hmm… I remember as we got older, we started going to restaurants and cafes. We’d also visit museums and the like. Hajime always carried some of my medicine on himself so should I forget it, he could help. I was always sleepy, but around him especially, like I am with you. Hajime was very reliable, and I always felt safe with him. He’d always do all he could to keep me awake, so I wouldn’t miss anything, but sometimes if not much was happening he’d nap with me. It was rarer for me to wake up before him, but when I did, he always apologized. He didn’t have too, but he did anyway, feeling bad for leaving me alone. He wanted to make the most of all the time we had together when I was awake. He told me once that when he was little, he thought I was asleep all the time because I thought the world was boring, so he always wanted to make things exciting or give me a reason to stay with him a little longer, and though he knew that wasn’t the case, he still felt that compulsion. When he didn’t fall asleep, I always felt so safe waking up in his lap or on his chest. Even if others stared and he felt uncomfortable, if it was for me, it was worth it he said.”

Your expression slightly shifted, the subtle jubilation morphing to something… not crestfallen or sad, something more neutral. “Though, as much as he wanted to be with me… I’m not sure when it started but at some point, he stopped being completely with me, some part of him, even very tiny almost minuscule was not there. It was actually today two years ago was the last time I saw him… It was his birthday, and it being New Year’s Day it was rather noisy, so I took him and ran away. The night before I took him on a train so we could go to a less populated place and on the first, we ended up on a beach. We were having a fun time, having extra party supplies like hand fireworks, and party poppers and things from new year’s celebrations. We had a snowball fight in the snow, dared one another to go swimming in the ocean, and things. There I noticed Haji seemed a bit sad so when I asked him what was wrong, he started talking about things I already knew, like how he really wanted to go to Hope’s Peak, how it was his dream, but he wasn’t satisfied. How he wanted to belong there and not just pay to be in the reserve course. And… Ooooooooohhhhhhhh. That’s why.” You pat Izuru on the head. “I remember now!”

A yawn escaped you before you continued to speak. “Haji had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. And I definitely liked him, and I know he liked me back, so I didn’t see the need to tell him about my string. I sometimes thought about it, but… I just didn’t do it. And I knew I never would after that day. He told me about something he swore to me to keep secret, and I still will. I’d never break my promise to him. Basically, what I can say is that he himself couldn’t say much, but he told me that I might never see him again. In the moment I was scared. I thought I should tell him, but… but he wanted to do whatever he was going to do so badly. If I told him, it might stop him, and I didn’t want to stop him, well, I did, but I was scared that if I did, I’d hurt him, and I wanted him to be happy, so I let him go… that night I couldn’t sleep, and I watched as my red string broke and the other end just… withered away… And he became someone entirely new, a guy named Izuru Kamukura. I think at least. I think… I think in a past life you were Hajime, you look so similar, and sometimes I can hear his warmth and kindness in your voice. I don’t know if a part of him still exists in you, but I know he had some part in creating you. But… Your and Hajime’s connection doesn’t matter, you may have his body, but you’re completely different people, like how you’re warm and kind in your own ways. So, don’t you ever dare to think I like you and you are my current best friend because of your connection to Hajime, alright?”

This was new. Izuru was always stone faced, no expressions, yet you could always find the tiniest warmth from him, and now, you could see it, or something at least. He looked up to you, his lips ever so slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something perhaps? He just placed you down and kept staring… before hugging you.

Why was he hurting? Why was his chest hurting so much? And now he felt something on his cheek? Reaching up, he softly gasped, finding tears cascading from his eyes. You were absolutely right in him not being your former best friend, he was someone else… So why did this hurt so much!? He clutched you tightly not caring if you felt how his heart pounded, how it had begun to do so the moment you started speaking of your childhood memories. He felt his throat choking up, his breath tremble. Why was he hurting so much? He had you, his best friend. You were right by his side just as always, so why was he hurting so much, you were here with him!

“I’m… sorry for your loss.” “… it’s okay…” You snuggled into him, unable to keep your eyes open any longer. After wiping the tears away, he took a few steps back. “Hmm? Izuru? You… look different.” “… Is your red string severed?” “Huh?” Though baffled you lifted up you hand. “Yeah… still is.” You yawned, feeling absolutely exhausted and getting frustrated at yourself for doing so, you wanted to say awake and answer Izuru’s possible other questions, but you just couldn’t anymore. “and your other hand?” “Uh… I don’t see anything.” While you were accepting this fading reality, you didn’t notice how your best friend stared at your other hand, tracing a single line that connected from your pinky, to his, the frayed part now connected to this string. Though thin and just holding on by a few threads, it was there.

[thegeminisage]

hi, sorry for answering you both so late, i am putting your answers together since they are sort of related!

the short answer is, i can’t write a “real” sequel to broken road but the third part of the triptych would be the indirect dean/cas spiritual sequel, except with way more porn. the long answer is:

i just don't think i could write a true direct sequel to broken road set in that same continuity because i don't have anything left to say about john and how he gets along in the real with his family world now that he’s stuck there and they’re all stuck with each other. my main three points of interest that i felt were left unresolved would be the continuation of dean and cas's relationship (more on this in a sec), sam and eileen (ditto), and figuring out if john and mary ever made it work or called it quits for good. so if i wrote a sequel to broken road it would just be a bunch of john/mary stuff that i feel underqualified for because it WOULD involve their sex life and i DO NOT want to write john having sex. them fucking offscreen in broken road was as close as i'm ever getting and even that was weird. and then somehow i’d also have to work sam and eileen into that and it’s not at all related. it would take two fics and i don’t even want to write one. also, i really kind of want to leave the question of john and mary open anyway - i have my own thoughts about how things ultimately end up but i prefer to let the reader imagine what ending they like best, since people have such strong feelings about it. i know that's a little bit of a cop-out and i'm sorry! but it feels beyond the scope of that fic and also a little beyond my scope and area of interest as a writer.

if it helps you any, i imagine going forward their dynamic is a lot like it is in the epilogue, which is part of why i made the epilogue so long, was to give you a good idea of what life is like for them now. but here’s what i imagine might go down after the final curtain call (this is LONG, skip to the section labeled “dean” for the triptych answer):

john & mary: 

john continues to suffer and bite his tongue and probably do a lot of complaining and DEFINITELY do a lot of avoiding being alone with dean or cas or dean-and-cas. john was expecting to retire after yellow eyes died so he really wouldn't know what to do with a family that still hunts for "no reason" and i imagine he'd be pretty pissed that they still hunt at all. i expect he and sam would butt heads over that

mary would probably keep attempting to be supportive and keep being bad at it, and spend a lot of time trying to put a brave face on it while secretly dying inside, because she's constantly at war with herself. here she has john back, but not the john she remembers, and spending time with him is difficult because she wants to let herself have him and take comfort in him and also she doesn't want to be anywhere near him because he abused their kids

eventually mary or john or both would have to leave, though mary would come back - in canon she's in and out a lot anyway, she stays for awhile and visits regularly for game nights. i think john would miss the first game night, get one "seriously?" text from mary, and then show back up every week that he possibly could but also not visit unless it would make things worse if he didn't. i don't think he particularly enjoys spending time with his family for a long time, if ever, because much like season 12 mary he came back to a family he barely knew or recognized (and because of what he knows now spending time with dean would be particularly awkward). HIS sons would be getting married to women and retiring and having biological children. this gay adoptive whatever the fuck makes them feel like they are not his sons. 

anyway, i imagine john and mary would do much better when running into one another outside of the bunker, on their own separate hunts. they might even take one or two together. there’s probably some very guilty sex in their future at some point because mary is real fucked up. john post broken road does a lot of shutting up but i think around mary he would be the most like his old self. they do this will they/won't they dance for the next decade at least before finally making up their minds one way or the other. i do think they all still go on hunts together sometimes, maybe even with the apocalypse world hunters, and since that's sam's deal john is probably kind of quiet and falls in line and does what's needed without chatting much to anyone. i bet the first few times people don't even realize he's sam's father because he's so quiet. it's his way of trying to apologize to sam and also if he steps out of line when sam is in charge sam would <3 deck him. yes. but yeah i see it being very brisk and professional and awkward, until they all get used to each other again

sam: 

as i said earlier the only thing i didn't fix in broken road was eileen, so at some point sam would figure out a way to get her back - since in this verse jack never becomes soulless and chuck never returns and we never get season 15 it's possible she shows back up because she didn't go with her reaper, or because someone fucked up a summoning spell, or sam realized she was in hell and decided to spring her, or she just crawled out on her own like a badass. i think it would be kind of funny if john was involved with her resurrection but maybe accidentally somehow, so it's not like oh sam learns to forgive his dad because john did this really nice thing for him it's more like UGH why did it have to be YOU why are YOU involved in this important thing that has nothing to do with you slkdjfghl but also if you hadn't done it she'd still be down there or something, so, it cancels out. or idk maybe john had to work hard at it or give something up to make it happen. he has to genuinely shut up and be selfless and not fucking complain and feel sorry for himself the entire time, that might be fun too. either way sam would not thank him

(though i do think sam deserves space to explore the fact that he loves john even still, even despite the fact that he also hates him/is very angry with him and always will be. i don’t imagine sam and john ever fully reconcile but i imagine john behaving BECAUSE OF SAM SPECIFICALLY offers sam more catharsis than he thought possible.) 

anyway, john would be so relieved to see sam with a woman even if she is a deaf hunter but then it turns out she hates him like sam does so like. sucks to be him! meanwhile sam and eileen get to catch up and he finally has a willing ear (so to speak) that isn’t cas or mary to talk to about this stuff and of course SHE has someone who very much understands what it’s like to come back from hell. part of what i really love about sam and eileen is the way they sort of instantly and intrinsically recognized and understood one another, even across something that resembles a language barrier, and this hypothetical future would be no exception. there’s no way they don’t get engaged inside a year, and much like in the 15.18 fixit they’d sometimes hang at the bunker and sometimes not. i imagine with the apocalypse world hunters going in and out though it’s never exactly empty or lonely there. 

whether or not their family unit ever retires and/or moves out of the bunker in this verse is sort of beyond me because my feelings on it change daily but you can imagine whatever you like! however i am adamant that the furthest away from each other sam and dean will ever get permanent-living-situation-wise is next door/across-the-street neighbors. their weird little codependency is part of what i like about them and i have a Whole Thing about not “gentrifying�� dean. but for the most part sam would be very much doing his own thing which involves john very little, and healing from his own damage with people OUTSIDE of his blood relatives which he very much deserves. and he has moved so completely past the need to care about john that like john is a backdrop in his life, albeit one with baggage. but mostly he becomes someone to keep an eye on in case he makes trouble, no different than a hundred other surly hunters sam’s known. and he can still be there for dean without his life revolving around dean because now dean has other people there for him too. (i ALSO have a whole thing about sam being in the life for dean specifically, that he’s giving up some or all of adulthood for dean because dean gave up childhood for him - kind of the way someone takes care of their kickass single mom in old age. it’s a guilt/love/debt/devotion sort of thing.) 

and speaking of the Eventual future, if babies ever come into this picture (sam and eileen’s, to be clear, dean and cas are probably satisfied with jack, NOT THAT JACK ISN’T ALSO SAM’S CHILD) john is allowed to see them but never unsupervised. i’m picturing like sam and eileen both on their third day of no sleep and sam lets john change a diaper because he’s exhausted and john considers that the best their relationship has been since sam was 6. mary always wanted to raise babies and sam likes her better so she’d get to pitch in with much more enthusiasm (and aw they’d finally get to bond a little more), and dean has raised a baby already so he’d probably try to like help and get waved away a lot like no no raising other peoples babies is no longer your job it’s ok. there is eventually a fight about this

cas & jack: 

castiel lives a great life caring for his newly re-graced son and staring at john when he enters or leaves rooms, and i imagine eventually jack gives him his wings back, since he can do whatever the fuck he wants (i'm not giving jack his own section but he also probably keeps acknowledging dean and cas are a couple like out loud which would be fine except for dean is still half in the closet like a skittish traumatized cat so eventually cas would have to explain very gently that nobody was supposed to know that yet and jack should cool it to give dean time to adjust)

anyway i DON’T believe in human cas, i believe he likes being an angel, so he just gets to stay an angel forever and now he has wings too <3 and he can teleport which spooks john in the exact same manner it used to spook dean in s4 <3 except this time cas is being <3 malicious on purpose <3

cas fully won here because like john does NOT want to speak to or acknowledge him much less be in the same room as him so they tend to have a dynamic where like all 6 of them are in the room and cas dean sam mary and jack all talk to each other and john dean sam mary and jack all talk to each other but cas and john do not talk to each other. cas doesn’t have to threaten him or glare at him constantly anymore like all he has to do is look at him. and john is like. man what’s he gonna do. that guy is having sex with your son and there’s nothing you can do about it! so dean doesnt have to be like ok cool it cas anymore because cas has literally won in every possible way. i think at most it’s very much cas being like “if i were trying to kill you, you’d know it <3″ and john can’t return those vibes to sender because then dean would be like ok cool it at his DAD instead. it used to be cas don’t piss off dad and now it’s dad don’t piss off cas. anyway i think that since cas has let dean lean on him so much it would be nice if he could lean on dean a little. again more on that in a minute

dean: 

and finally, as for dean...i think he needs a year minimum to dean with people acknowledging he and cas are a couple and another 3 for it not to be weird to say cas’s name in front of his dad. absolutely zero pda in front of john ever but he might like eventually get to the place where he and cas can lounge around together on the couch while they watch movies with the rest of fam and it’s not a big deal. sneak an arm around him at a movie theater. kind of the same vibes as the 15.18 fixit but with less anxiety. because like the worst possible thing (getting outed to everyone) has already happened and aside from the outing itself being completely horrible nothing that terrible even came to pass as a result, so he’s just Adjusting. i think he sort of has to unlearn and relearn his habits - his mediator thing, his defending dad thing. i think there’s a lot of times where he just walks out of a room when shit is too much for him to deal with because he has let go of some of the need to constantly micromanage his family’s interactions to make sure they don’t boil over. michael already took that scenario to the max and mary already dumped john so there’s really not much left to be afraid of. i think he gets told “that’s not your job” a lot and maybe listens more than he used to. and to bring us around to the second question...

i also think dean would get weirdly hung up on the fact that he and cas’s sex life is Not Normal - as in, they fooled around a little and that was it. i think dean would have a huge problem with that. like, obviously he has A Few Hangups About Gay Sex given his history but if you’re a couple you’re supposed to bang on the regular and it’s totally homophobic if he doesn’t bang cas as much as he’d bang a lady he was committed to, right? he’s not gonna give cas less than he gave cassie or lisa, that’s not fair to his best buddy and number one pal! 

meanwhile castiel, known asexual, is utterly and wildly neutral to the whole idea except that it’s a way to be close to dean. cas would be just as happy fucking like champions for a six-hour marathon or spending that same six hours curled up in bed together while he plays with dean’s hair. like, same diff. you know that thing about like “cas thinks everything is important he gives the same gravitas to the apocalypse and a nine year old’s birthday party”? like it’s exactly like that with sex and cuddling and sharing a meal together and driving together and watching dumb movies like it’s all time spent With Dean so it all matters just as much.

so we have this conflict where dean is tearing himself apart over the fact that he’s taking a normal human amount of time to “work up” to the whole thing and cas is like. but it’s fine. it’s literally fine. and dean’s reaction to this would be something very offended like hello excuse me i am super hot and fuckable and you don’t WANT me?

if this all sounds familiar that’s because i’ve written similar stuff to it before! if you go to the fic page for broken road, you'll see it's part of a series now (the "triptych"), with my dumb little 15.18 fixit as the prequel. even though continuity-wise these are two totally separate fics i feel very strongly that that fic is the spiritual prequel to broken road, and eventually, a long time from now, after the next @cambionverse​ fic is done or at the very least well underway, i'd like to write a spiritual sequel. a triptych is three works that stand on their own but also make a more complete whole, so even though these three stories would not be related at all in continuity of where they take place in canon, they each set the stage at a different part of the dean/cas relationship. so fic #1, the get-together, had no sex at all, and it was very short. fic #2, pre-established but just barely, had a little sex in it and it was very long. fic #3 then would be pre-established but like VERY pre-established and have a fuckton of sex in it, and be medium length. i’m ha ha basically writing my own nc-17 porn coda since SOMEBODY won’t do it for me (if you got that joke you’re entitled to financial compensation). 

except i actually really do want to tackle this subject myself, it’s stuff i only got to touch on in the other fics because it felt off topic, so in this fic it WOULD be the topic! i really found a groove i like with cas who has almost no trauma around sex but doesn’t care whether or not he has it vs dean who really really wants to have sex but has a minefield of past bad experiences he has to watch out for. and i like writing porn anyway and i didn’t get to write very much these past two fics. i’ve always said that i think dean would snowball (not like that, gross) - it’d take him FOREVER (literally a decade plus) to work up to kissing cas but a fraction of that time to start fooling around with him and a fraction of THAT time to blow him etc etc. the more he does the easier it gets. i feel like it’d be a lot of fun to write. 

so, this third fic would not be an official broken road sequel, because there’s almost no plot outside of the porn to speak of anyway, but if what you wanted was to see how the dean/cas went from where it left off, hopefully that will be satisfying in that regard.

i should say, while the third fic would be almost exclusively porn there is one plot element involving ********** that i am not going to talk about on tumblr because it would ruin the surprise. i have told a few people privately and i will tell you if we know each other pretty well but if you know (or guess) don’t tell anyone! 

see, the other thing i would want to tackle in that fic is how cas has his own traumas and baggage, even if they’re a little different from dean’s, and i think dean sometimes gets so deep in his own stuff he kind of...not forgets that exactly but forgets how profoundly it still affects cas, because by and large cas deals with that sort of thing a lot more quietly and in much healthier ways than dean does. not that his self-sacrificing ass is the poster child for mental health, but for example cas recognized suicidal ideation in himself and actively worked to keep himself away from situations that would make it worse. he translates his bad feelings into meaningful action (well, he attempts to, even if it usually goes wrong). so he hurts kind of quietly and in late season especially most of the worst moments of his life are behind him (barring jack’s death, which doesn’t happen in this verse). so he’s also further along in his healing process which mean dean kind of forgets how fucked in the head he can be. and in the uh...unusual situation...they find themselves in because of this minor plot, it becomes something that he can’t not notice, that they can’t just not talk about, and cas gets to lean on dean a little, they sort of get to know each other better. so that’s part of the point of that one little plot element. but the rest of it really is porn.

i haven’t started work on the third fic yet - i don’t have a title and my outline is just a bunch of choppy ideas and i have about 2000 words of the middle of the fic jotted down out of context. (it was originally going to be a shorter unrelated thing before i realized how well it tied to what i already had.) i have another obligation to see to before i can get started on it (again, @cambionverse​, you should read it if you havent, the concept might sound unappealing but almost everyone who tries it likes it and it’s way better than broken road). so it’ll probably happen a very VERY long time from now! but it IS happening. >:) i just hope after the first two fics in the triptych were so well received that it doesn’t disappoint 🥺

[luxekook]

trivia love | knj

⇥ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, terrible trivia team names, namjoon being devastating, low-key exhibitionism, smut in a bar bathroom, oral (f receiving), sub!joon, switch!reader, everyone being nerdy af

Weekly trivia used to be so fun. Your team - The Multiple Scoregasms - used to demolish the competition with ease. You used to be able to think so clearly and answer so correctly. You used to revel in the free drinks earned with your $20 bar credit winnings.

Keywords: used to

For the last two Thursdays, not only had your team lost miserably, you seemed to have lost all recollection past your own name.

The reason? Team Text Us, We're Single.

First of all, their team name was highly deceptive. There was no way that all seven of those beautiful team members were single. It was absolutely ludicrous.

Second of all, only one member of the group seemed to even take trivia seriously. And they still won. Twice.

And last of all, you were high-key attracted to said member. You sighed, thinking back to simpler times before you first saw him two Thursdays ago…

The first thing you saw when you walked into Queenie’s Bar was a squad of middle-aged men debating the merits of Draco Malfoy’s redemption arc.

And the second? Just the cutest smiling boy you’d ever seen in the entirety of your existence. He was tall and deliciously tan, with cute dimples that surfaced suddenly when he smiled at the bartender in thanks.

As you stood in the archway of the bar gaping at this dimpled god, you got jostled from behind by your friend Olivia. “What’s the hold up? Go claim our usual table, (y/n)! I’ll get the drinks.”

You snapped out of your reverie. Cute boy or not, he was likely to be part of tonight’s competition; and, therefore, you needed to annihilate him accordingly.

Nodding inwardly, you stalked past the men who now had moved on from Draco to a heated argument surrounding house-elves and their rights.
 “Hermione just dropped her whole campaign! S.P.E.W. was never mentioned again!” One man thrust his hand through his thinning hair in exasperation, “God, did the campaign buttons mean nothing?”

You cracked a smile as you settled into your usual table in the middle of the crowded bar. You loved Thursday night trivia with everything you had.

Thursdays brought in an eclectic sort of crowd to Queenie’s. The groups scattered throughout the bar represented everyone from middle aged Potterheads to skulking e-boys to nerdy young adults (READ: you) and - apparently - to models (READ: Dimples).

You spotted your roommate Jordan and your friend Marlene hurrying through the door and raised a hand to wave them down. Marlene noticed you first and yelled, “Yo, (y/n)!”

Typically, you would have been embarrassed by this behavior, but it happened each week without fail. So, you just gave a half-assed salute.

The only thing that Marlene, the only extrovert in your circle of friends, loved more than being the center of attention was forcing the rest of you into the spotlight with her.

Her reasoning? Something about comfort zones and shit. Your reasoning? Pure evil.

Jordan rolled his eyes at you and grabbed Marlene, dragging her over to your table. “She needs to be stopped,” Jordan said in lieu of a greeting, “She’s a menace to introverts everywhere.”

“Puh-lease,” Marlene plopped into her seat dramatically, “Y’all love me. Besides, if you got rid of me, who would do speed trivia rounds for you?”

You and Jordan exchanged a panicked look at the mere thought of being put on the spot in front of a large crowd. “You make a convincing argument,” you sighed, “I guess we’ll keep you.”

“Well,” Marlene concentrated on something over your shoulder, “I might leave voluntarily if other teams are out here looking like that.”

You turned, seeking out the team in question, and locked eyes with Dimples. He blushed furiously and ducked his head, blonde hair falling to cover his eyes. His friend to his left, equally as attractive, gave Dimples a weird look and shoved his shoulder. You whipped back around before you got caught staring - again.

“What the fuck?” Jordan whispers-yelled across the table to you, “Do you know that boy, (y/n)?”

“No,” you choked out, already halfway to whipped over someone you’d never even met.

“Well, damn,” Olivia finally arrived, somehow successfully holding four drinks, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Marlene smirked, “Just a cute boy thirsting over (y/n) from afar.”

“He is not thirsting!” Your disclaimer went by unacknowledged.

“Oooh, we love a thirsty boy,” Olivia slid into her seat next to you and turned around to assess the crowd, “Shit. Which one is he? All the boys at that table are hot.”

“The one with the dimples,” you automatically answered, your mind replaying his squinty-eyed smile in full HD.

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Marlene whipped out her pen and notepad like she was about to take notes, “Now, how do you know he has dimples?”

“Uh,” you sank low in your seat, “A good guess?”

“Nope, try again,” Jordan cackled, “You twirl your hair when you’re lying, bitch.”

Goddamnit. You released your traitorous hand from your hair immediately. “Fine, because I saw him smiling when I arrived, okay?”

“Interesting,” Marlene scribbled gibberish on her notepad, “And how do you feel about that?”

Now, two long weeks later, you still had no idea how to answer that question. However, you did know that you longed to talk with him for hours and absorb the knowledge he seemed to hold in every crevice of his brain. You did know that a darker part of you wanted to see him kneeling before you, completely at your mercy. You did know that his thighs were distracting, to the point where you accidentally dumped your entire beer down your shirt because you were too gaping at the way he leaned over the bar to order drinks.

And, unfortunately, you did know that he seemed to be equally distracted by you. This bit of knowledge came via your friends; and, therefore, you were in full denial.

“Question nine,” the bartender-turned-announcer cleared her throat, jolting you from your inner thoughts. “Who wrote 1818’s Frankenstein?”

“Mary Shelley!” You whispered across the table to Jordan, who then scrawled the name onto your team’s answer sheet. Satisfied, you shot a furtive glance around the bar and frowned as the surrounding teams all seemed to be confident in their answers as well. Your gaze strategically skipped past the table in the back section of the bar before returning to face your teammates.

From her seat next to Jordan, Marlene spotted something in the very direction you had been avoiding and giggled, “Dimples is staring. Bottoms up, fam.”

“Again?” Olivia rolled her eyes and drank from her dwindling gin and tonic. “He just looked at her, like, thirty seconds ago!”

Your eyes swung to Jordan as he attempted to covertly take a sip of his vodka cranberry.

“Please tell me you all aren’t drinking every time he looks over here,” you groaned, crossing your arms, “How are you even sure that he's looking at me?”

“Maybe because his eyes were glued to your ass when you walked by his table earlier on the way to the bathroom,” Olivia cackled, “I mean, I can’t blame the guy. Those jeans really do make you look thick.”

“And that’s ‘thick’ with at least three C’s and possibly a Q,” Marlene added, shooting you a thumbs up and nod of approval.

Jordan arched an eyebrow slyly, sipped his mixed drink, and drawled,“Well, why do you think she wore them?”

That snake!

“Top ten anime betrayals,” you whispered, eyes wide in the wake of being exposed.

Marlene and Olivia gasped in unison and turned towards you. Olivia hissed, “You bitch. Have you been holding out on us? Have you been seducing him?”

“Question ten,” the announcement blared from the bar’s speakers, saving you briefly from the brewing interrogation you felt was headed your way. “What novel begins with the words 'Call me Ishmael’?”

“Moby Dick,” Marlene answered, “Now, back to the matter at hand. I cannot believe you didn’t tell us this crucial information. We could have been scheming together if we knew you liked him.”

“Like him?!” Your shriek drew the attention of the neighboring table, and you shot them a sheepish smile. When they finally looked away, you immediately reverted back to your murderous state, “I don’t even know his name! And when have you been scheming?”

“Fine,” Jordan acquiesced, stirring his paper straw around his drink, “Maybe you don’t like him yet, but you definitely want to sit on his dick. Am I right or am I right?”

Gleefully, Marlene and Olivia faced you with fierce looks of anticipation.

“Fine,” you sniffed, trying to scrape your shredded dignity off the floor, “Yes, I want to sit on his dick. Is that so wrong?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Olivia rubbed her palms together, grinning deviously, "I mean, we already know he's into you. Why can't you just say something to him?"

You looked at her like she had just spoken Latin backwards, "Have you seen him? He’s so sweet. I could ruin him.”

“I don’t think he’d even mind though,” Marlene sighed, gazing over at the boy in question.

Jordan snorted as you buried your head in your hands and audibly prayed for anyone out there to take pity on you.

"We're moving on to our next category, folks," the bar's sound system crackled to life, answering your prayers, "Harry Potter."

"Oh, fuck yeah," You and Marlene - resident Harry Potter dweebs - exchanged high fives. Finally, a category you could probably win with your mind functioning on minimal capacity.

"Question eleven: In the Goblet of Fire, who poses as Mad-Eye Moody, Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Barty Crouch," you and Marlene said, pausing for dramatic effect, "Junior."

You cracked up as Jordan and Olivia shook their heads. "I question our friendship every damn day," Olivia joked, gazing off into the metaphorical distance - aka at the wall.

"You love us, bitch-ass," Marlene aimed a kick in Olivia’s direction under the table.

You grinned at their antics and went to take a sip from your beer, only to discover it empty. "Another round?" You ask your friends, standing to head over to the bar.

"Yes, please," Jordan groaned, "Anything to make it through these next four questions."

"Anyone - besides Jordan - want another round?" You revised your original statement aloud.

"Wow, have I mentioned I love Harry Potter lately? Like, yes, ten points to Hogwarts, bitch," Olivia thrust her empty glass in the air.

"That's not even how House Points work, Liv," Marlene sighed, "Solid B- for effort."

You turned to leave. "Wait!" Jordan drew your attention back to your group, "Stick your ass out when you order. He'll be watching." He shot a quick glance in He Who Shall Not Be Named (Because You Don't Know It)'s direction. "Oh, wait. He already is. Go get 'em, Hedwig."

You inwardly screamed at the knowledge that you were being watched by the current focus of your attraction and decided not to comment before leaving.

"Hedwig?" You heard Marlene addressing Jordan as you walked away, "Did you mean Hermione? Hedwig is Harry’s fucking owl. RIP, by the way."

God, you loved your friends.

Arriving at the large wooden bar running the length of the room, you flagged down one of the bartenders and circled a finger in the air to indicate another round. You and your friends came often enough for most of the staff to know your orders by heart. It was awesome.

"Question twelve!" The sound jolted you upright. You hadn't noticed you were standing right next to one of the extra speakers the bar used for trivia. Idiot, you cursed yourself, why must you be like this?

"Why was the Whomping Willow planted?" Cringing again at the volume, you craned your neck and located Marlene, who gave you an affirmative nod of 'I got this, fam.'

"Here you go!" The bartender placed your drinks in front of you, "Same tab?"

"Yes, please," You nodded, attempting to smoothly grab all four drinks, "Thank you!"

"Need some help?" The sweetest voice you had ever heard in your life sounded from your left side. You slowly turned your head to face its source and was equally as stunned by the beautiful boy in front of you.

This was one of Dimples’ teammates - one of the Team Text Us, We're Single boys.

"Um," your brain resembled the scene from Spongebob where he forgot his name. Your eyes darted over the boy's shoulder in a deliberate attempt to avoid his cute scrunched eyes and wide smile. But, you were only faced with something even more devastating.

Six boys openly gaped at you from the back table. When you caught their eyes, three looked away, two grinned shamelessly, and one blushed right to the tips of his ears.

Cute. Your insides turned to mush over how adorable your Dimples was.

"They're the worst, right?” The boy in front of you commanded your attention once more, "So nosy. Now, let me help you. I'm Jimin, by the way, from Team Text--"

"Us, We're Single," you finished, "Yeah, you guys beat us the last two Thursdays. We had such a nice winning streak going, too."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Jimin smiled wide, "Most of us don't even care about trivia."

"That makes it even worse," you groaned, sliding two drinks his way, "I'm (y/n), from The Multiple--"

"Scoregasms," Jimin laughed, "Awesome name."

"Thanks!" Your confidence soared at his praise and you smiled genuinely, "It's some of my best work."

"Question thirteen!"

"Oh shit," Jimin muttered, "Let's go before I miss any more questions. Joon will have my ass on a platter."

You nodded, mind whirring to try to determine which team member this 'Joon' was. Maybe the intimidating-looking boy with the bleached blonde hair pushed back in a headband? Or the really muscular one in all black with the doe eyes and long brown hair?

"When Dumbledore and Harry first visit Horace Slughorn, what is he disguised as?"

At the question, you grabbed the two remaining drinks and head back to your table with Jimin following close behind. As soon as you began your journey, you rolled your eyes at the completely obvious way your friends were pretending they hadn’t been watching you and Jimin interact this entire time.

You had never seen them having such an animated conversation about... "Bagels are so good! I love how you can choose from so many different types, like cinnamon raisin, sesame, blueberry, honey wheat--"

"Hi," you forcefully placed the drinks down in front of your friends and succeeded in interrupting Marlene's riveting tirade about bagels, "This is Jimin. He was kind enough to help me."

"Hey, Jimin," Jordan eyed the boy appreciatively, "Decided to scope out the competition, huh?"

"Honestly, sort of," Jimin chuckled. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, not liking the sly edge his grin took on in the slightest.

"Well, hopefully (y/n) didn't give much away," Olivia giggled, staring up at Jimin with heart eyes, "She's our team leader."

"Damn straight." You plopped back down in your chair, "Want to sit with us? We can grab an extra chair from a nearby table."

"Nah," Jimin glanced over his shoulder at where his teammates were probably still staring, "I should get back. Want to hang out after trivia though? We can merge tables!"

Before you could even answer, Marlene enthused, "Yes! That would be so fun. Don't you think, (y/n)?"

You gave her your most lethal side-eye, catching onto what seemed to be happening here, "Yes... so fun."

"Great!" Jimin ignored your dry tone, "Talk to you later then!"

You all watched as he sauntered away.

"Damn," Olivia sighed, "That boy is fine." You nodded sagely as your eyes stayed glued to Jimin's firm ass as he walked away in those tight jeans.

"So, what's the plan, team?" Jordan clapped, "We have T minus twenty minutes to get 'Operation Get (y/n) Dicked Down' up and running. Let's do this."

God, you hated your friends.

Twenty minutes later, your team had solidly lost. However, unlike the last two weeks, your loss did not come as a surprise or alongside any hard feelings. You four were too busy prepping to hang out with seven intimidatingly hot boys.

You were the only one not excited.

“And that concludes trivia for tonight, folks,” the bartender announced, “Team Text Us, We’re Single wins once again. Please come to the bar to collect your bar credits, lads.”

“Oh my god, okay, it’s happening,” Jordan bounced up and down in his seat as you all watched the bar start to clear out, “Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.”

“I don’t know how you have any room to call (y/n) and I nerds while you straight up quote The Office, Jord,” Marlene laughed.

“The Office is an Emmy award-winning show,” Jordan sniffed, “Come at me when Harry Potter wins a Pulitzer.”

“The Pulitzer is only for American authors,” Marlene cried.

“I rest my case,” Jordan lifted his glass.

“What?” Marlene yelped, “That makes literally no sense.”

“As much as I hate to interrupt this fascinating argument,” Olivia drawled, “We’re being summoned.”

You gulped, glancing behind you. Sure enough, Jimin was flagging you all down from across the bar, while a few of his teammates dragged over an empty table towards their own.

“Shit, I guess this is it,” you sighed.

“Jesus, you’re not going off to war, (y/n),” Jordan rolled his eyes, “You’re literally about to meet the your trivia daddy.”

“Please— and I cannot stress this enough,” you paused, “Never say that again.” With that, you stood, grabbing your drink and sauntering over towards Jimin with all the confidence you could possibly summon.

You heard your friends’ laughter behind you, and you discreetly flashed them the middle finger behind you back.

“Hey, Jimin,” you smiled at the boy as he greeted you and your friends.

“Hi, welcome!” His eyes were completely encompassed by his cheeks, and you internally screeched at his cuteness.

“This is Taehyung,” Jimin gestured to the curly-haired boy to his right. Taehyung greeted you all with a deep ‘Hi’ and a peace sign.

“Yoongi,” Jimin pointed towards the intimidating boy you noticed earlier with the bleached hair and the headband. Yoongi only nodded in your general vicinity as greeting.

“Hi, I’m Jin!” The stunningly handsome boy at the end of the table burst out, evidently unable to wait until he was introduced. Jin blew you all a kiss as his friends groaned.

“Please ignore him,” Jimin rolled his eyes before moving on, “Those two are Hoseok and Jungkook.” Jimin gestures towards the bar where two boys were collecting two pitchers of beer.

“And, last but not least, our trivia leader Namjoon,” Jimin’s grin turned devious as the boy in question raised his hand in greeting and ducked his head back down.

“Please sit,” Jimin gestured towards the scattered empty chairs amongst his group.

“(Y/n)!” Jin called suddenly, his arm flopping frantically in the air, “Come sit next to me!”

Your eyebrows shot all the way up as your heartbeat accelerated. Sitting next to Jin meant sitting next to Namjoon - your Dimples.

Nodding, you made your way over. It would be rude to refuse his request, and you could not help but wonder if Namjoon’s friends were also schemers.

You rounded the corner of the table and plopped down between the two boys. “H-hi,” you offered, eloquent as ever. You sipped your beer to cover up your burning embarrassment.

“Hi,” Jin grinned at you, “Thanks for joining us at the handsome end of the table.”

You choked on your beer, before cracking up, “The handsome end?” You loved this boy already and couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, “Oh, you meant Namjoon.” You shot the boy you just mentioned a sly smile as Jin spluttered.

Namjoon cocked his head slightly as he slowly broke into a shy smile, “Yeah, he definitely did, (y/n).”

Lord Almighty, the way he said your named almost sounded like a confession.

“Oh, this is insane, you fools!” Jin shook with incredulity, “I am worldwide handsome. Not Namjoon. Ugh, I need new friends.”

Jin stood and skulked over to the other side of the table as you all laughed. He was so extra, you could already tell. However, his antics had done wonders for your nerves.

Turning back to Namjoon, you leaned in closer, “Did he just make an Always Sunny reference? Or was that just me?”

Namjoon nodded, eyes glinting in amusement, “He did. You watch that show, too?”

Your conversation delved into your favorite shows, your favorite movies, your favorite meals. You felt like you had known Namjoon forever with how comfortable you already were with each other. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes strayed to your lips every so often or how his hands crept closer to your thigh with every parting word.

The boy was into you. You were almost 85% sure of it. So, you decided to test him.

In the middle of Namjoon’s story about the time Jungkook almost burned down his apartment complex, you slid your hand over his. Namjoon paused, and you looked up innocently. He gulped and continued.

You smiled viciously on the inside. Your fingers played with his, intertwining with them, playing with his rings, brushing over his palm.

As Namjoon’s story drew to a close, you tugged his hand onto your thigh and released it. Nonchalantly, you picked up your beer and took a sip.

Shooting the boy a quick glance in your periphery, you found him staring openmouthed at his own hand encompassing your thigh. He gave your thigh a tentative squeeze, and you hummed in content. His eyes shot to yours.

“W-what are you doing?” Namjoon’s pupils were dilated as he blinked at you.

“I just wanted your hand on me, Joon,” you pouted, “You can take it off if you want.”

You moved to shift his hand off you, but his grip tightened. “I like having my hands on you, (y/n),” he said, his voice deeper than ever, “I also like you calling me ‘Joon’.”

“Two more things we can agree on,” you smiled at him, stomach full of butterflies and anticipation. Glancing around you, you realized that your friends were dispersed throughout the bar.

Marlene, Jordan, Hoseok, and Jungkook were dancing wildly in the middle of the bar’s tiny dance-floor. Jimin and Taehyung were bothering the DJ to presumably keep playing an assortment of random songs from the early 2000s. 

Olivia, Yoongi, and Jin sat at the bar, watching the others and laughing as Jungkook kept hitting the whoa no matter what song played. Currently, he was hitting the whoa to Baby Got Back.

Turning back to Namjoon, you find him looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you questioned, eyes searching his inquisitively.

He shoved a hand through his messy hair. “You’re so intimidating, (y/n). You’re so smart and beautiful, and it messes with my brain.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” You arched an eyebrow before smiling sweetly, “I promise I don’t bite… Unless you want me to.”

“I do,” he answered automatically. You both paused. His eyes widened comically, “F-forget I said that.”

“You want me to bite you, Joonie?” You sighed into his ear, relishing in his shiver, “You want me to mark your pretty skin?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Okay,” your mouth descended to his neck, searching for a weak spot. His breath hitched as your mouth neared his thrumming pulse point. Bingo.

You placed an open-mouthed kiss onto his warm skin before sucking lightly. Namjoon moaned, shifting in his seat. 

You bit down, and his hips bucked instinctively. Pulling back slightly, you licked over the mark that was slowly blooming on his neck.

The clear imprint of your teeth on his neck had you grinning like a fool. You really wanted to own this cute, shy, intelligent boy.

You looked up at Namjoon. He was watching you with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, eyes focused on his. He nodded frantically, and your lips tugged up in a small smile.

Slowly, you inched your mouth closer towards his. Your breaths mingled. You pressed your lips to his gently and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You kept kissing Namjoon until you finally had to come up for air. Leaning your forehead against his, you locked eyes, breathing each other in.

“Can I sit on your lap, Joon?” You asked in between peppering kisses on his reddened cheeks.

After getting a nod in confirmation, you straddled his lap and returned your lips to his. The small part of your brain still thinking rationally reminded you that you were in a very public bar. The much larger and irrational part of your brain urged you on as your hips shamelessly grind onto Namjoon’s. The hardened cock that you felt through his jeans was too tempting. And, besides, exhibitionism was fun, right?

You bit down on Namjoon’s bottom lip, and he thrust against you.

You broke away and turned your head to the side, needing another moment to breathe. Namjoon began to kiss your neck, and you let out a small laugh as he nipped at your skin. He was marking you right back.

Namjoon lifted his head again as your lips parted. His face was inches away from yours. He stared at you like a starving man.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon said lowly, “I’m beginning to think you might be the devil, because you just snatched my soul.”

You stared at him. “That was so goddamned cheesy.” Your giggles made him turn an interesting shade of maroon.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jin-hyung,” you heard him mutter before you captured his lips once more.

As you kissed, his fingers slowly inched downwards, caressing you. You decided then and there that you would have this boy.

“Undo my jeans,” you commanded after pulling away from his mouth. His eager fingers dropped to your zipper, fumbling in their haste. Once your jeans were undone, you felt him hesitate. You instructed him, “I need your fingers.”

He thrust a finger into you. “Mm, Joon,” you dropped your head into the crevice of his neck as he pumped another one in, stretching you. His fingers curled inside you, as you shifted your hips.

“Rub my clit,” You demanded, and he pulled his fingers out and circled it immediately. You moaned at both the new sensation and at the loss of his fingers inside you. “Keep your fingers in me, use your thumb.” You gripped onto the back of his head, pulling on his hair in punishment.

His fingers thrust back into you without warning as his thumb circled your clit. You felt yourself clenching around him, so close to coming just from his hands. Still, you needed more. You were definitely a greedy bitch.

You pulled his hand from your pants, and he stared at his fingers, which were sticky with you. You watched enraptured as he lifted his wet fingers to his lips and sucked.

His eyes widened, “Fuck, (y/n), you taste so good. You have to let me eat you out. You need to let me put my head between your thighs. Please.”

“Bathroom,” you gasped out, “Now.” You shimmied off of Namjoon’s lap and onto shaky legs.

“Follow me in one minute,” you kissed his cheek and tried your best to casually make your way to the bathroom. However, you were pretty sure you had already blown all efforts to be casual as soon as you sat on Namjoon.

Finally, you entered the empty single-stall bathroom and let out a sigh of relief.

Two seconds later, a knock sounded. You barely opened the door wide enough before Namjoon was all over you. His hands gripped your ass as he backed you against the wall next to the sink.

He gazed down at you with hooded eyes, “You still want this, right?”

“Yes, Joon,” you leaned up to kiss him one more time.

Namjoon sank to his knees before you.

You audibly moaned at the sight. Quickly, you tugged your jeans down your legs and kicked them to the side. Your underwear followed suit.

Namjoon cursed lowly as you lifted a leg onto the ledge of the sink, baring everything to him. “Well,” you smirked, “You wanted to put that smart mouth on me.”

“You are going to kill me,” he muttered. His hot mouth closed over your clit. Parting your lips, he caressed you as he sucked and licked. His fingers thrust into you once more, pulling out slowly then pummeling back in.

“Harder,” you moaned. He fucked you faster, adding another finger, stretching you.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his lips swollen and pink. “How the fuck can you taste this good?” He panted as he carried on fucking you with his fingers, grabbing at your ass with his free hand.

His mouth returned to your pussy, circling your clit with his tongue and moaning against it. His fingers continued to push into you relentlessly.

You felt your toes curl as your orgasm approached at a maddening rate. “J-Joon,” you cried his name, your back arching as the pleasure built up with each stroke of his tongue and movement of his fingers.

Without warning, he sucked on your clit harshly, and you came, clenching around his fingers. Namjoon continued to pump them in and out of you, carrying you through your orgasm. He licked your pussy, lapping up everything you gave him with his tongue. After a bit, your fingers wound into his hair and pulled. “Stop,” you begged, legs shaking with overstimulation.

He pulled back immediately and lifted his head, looking thoroughly fucked-out. His lips were more swollen than ever. His hair was a tangled mess. You had never seen anything better. “God, you look so sexy right now,” you mused, reaching a hand to stroke at his cheek.

“Are you guys finally done in there?” You cringed as Jordan’s amused voice shouted at you through the bathroom door, “You have work tomorrow, (y/n).”

“Jesus H. Christ, Jordan! Go away!” You screamed back at your infuriating roommate.

“…I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’,” he replied, laughing, “See you out there, champ.”

“I’m going to murder him,” you seethed, accepting your jeans from Namjoon who held them silently out to you.

You scanned the floor of the bathroom, “Wait, where’s my underwear?”

Namjoon’s cheeks flooded with color as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I needed some form of reminder of tonight.”

You shrugged, giggling as you tugged on your jeans, “Let’s make a trade.”

“I’m listening,” he grinned, goddamned dimples popping out and making you want to kiss him forever.

“You keep my panties; I keep you,” you grinned back at him.

He blinked rapidly, “Keep me?” You nodded, nerves erupting. Had you misread the situation? Did he just want this to be a one-time thing? Shit, had you royally fucked this up already?

He kissed you suddenly, and you relaxed.

“Please keep me,” he mumbled, “I’m a mess, but I can be your mess if you’d let me.”

“We can be messy together,” you gripped his hand in yours, “Now, come on. We have to go face our friends.”

Namjoon gulped, looking rightfully terrified at that prospect. “Or we could sneak out the back?”

A smirk wound its way onto your face, “I really do like the way you think, Joonie. Let’s go.”

With that, the two of you snuck out of the bathroom and out the backdoor of the bar.

“I knew it!” Marlene and Jimin greeted the two of you with triumphant fists thrust high in the air. Jimin whipped his phone out before you or Namjoon could even say a word. “Hey, hyung? Yeah. They’re out here.”

Ignoring the gloating pair, you turned to Namjoon, “We could still make a run for it?”

He met your eyes; and, without a word, you both took off.

Shouts of your names followed you down the dark alley as you both cracked up. This was definitely not how you had pictured your typical Thursday trivia night to go down, but you were not disappointed. No, you shot the boy running beside you an affectionate look, you weren’t disappointed at all.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[kuramapijama]

7 ,,,, lucky number 7‼👀 (Jotaro and mikki best ship love Mitarooo💓)

"I felt as if his heart was in my hands. I held it. I've never felt more closer to him than at this very moment. I want to cherish him, for the rest of my life.."

Okay, number 7! Accidental kiss!! xD I REALLY like this one! It's similar to corner of the mouth kiss, which is a fave of mine. Thank you, I'll try my best. Read below:

"OOF!" She let out a big huff, dropping the books on the table as she checked her list.

"Chinese Acupuncture, human anatomy, medical languages... da da da... ah!" Mikki squint her eyes looking at the paper, lifting up her reading glasses for a better view.

It was a new day for Mikki Lai. With a 4 year old son and a dojo to look after, she felt she needed another job to do. What she gained from her Judo Dojo wasnt enough to pay bills, and she was desperate to find another career. She had decided to peruse a career in nursing school, with the ambitious plan to become a doctor afterwards. A doctor in what field exactly? She hadn't a clue yet.

"I missed one. N-Neuro-science.. isn't that..brains stuff?! Ugh what am I getting myself into??" Mikki sighed, she was overwhelmed. She never worked so hard for anything other than her usual martial arts. Her knowledge of human anatomy was for hurting people, not the opposite. She sighed and made her way to the medical section once again. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for the book. Of course, she couldn't reach it.

'Damn these short genetics.'

Her arm reached up, trying hard to get the damn book. Her stand, Careless Whisper was summoned. The stand's hand touched the book, but was interrupted by a familiar presence.

"I got it."

The green haired woman jumped, startled by the man's voice behind her. Her stand immediately hid away. She knew who it was the minute he spoke. His presence alone she knew.

Jotaro.

What was he doing here? Did he follow her into the library? Whatever the reason, Mikki didn't want to know.

Her eyes were sharp, shooting him a glare right off the bat. Mikki had never gotten along too well with Jotaro. She always saw him as competition, something she couldn't beat, or accept as something she actually yearned for. She was uneasy around him, she didn't like it. The only clarity between them was confusion.

They looked at one another without saying a word. Mikki, keeping her glare dead set on the tall man. Jotaro, feeling a bit awkward looking down at her. He too, couldn't ever voice his true feelings, but his feelings were different from her's. He wanted to be her friend again.

"That's alright, I got it. I don't need your help." Spat the short woman, clear anger in her voice. She once again summoned her stand, but, suddenly felt shivers upon her skin. It wasn't clear why. Jotaro hasn't made a move, it wasn't his doing. Somehow, it was Careless Whisper. The stand froze, along with her user, completely unable to move.

Jotaro raised an eyebrow at this, confused.

"Mikki? What's wrong?"

And with her name on his lips, Mikki's breath hitched, she'd been holding it in. Why had she felt so vulnerable at that moment? For some reason, she felt uncomfortable with Careless Whisper, and Jotaro, together in the same room. She felt almost naked. Her stand was something she always felt shame of, she'd reach an unbelievable amount of strength to gain control over it. But now, after those years they spent apart, it felt strange for Jotaro to see her again. Mikki was nervous.

Jotaro ignored her strange behavior, and went ahead with getting the book anyway. He lifted his arm, his jacket sleeve hanging down, touching the top of Mikki's head. This snapped Mikki back into reality.

"No, dammit Jojo! I said I'd get it!"

As Mikki did a second ago, Jotaro had also been surprised by her calling him "Jojo". She hadn't called him that since they were teenagers.

It seemed the both of them were too nervous to be with each other.

She sighed, hating to climb the shelf but did so anyway without much thought. Her weight ontop of the many books beside her, caused the shelf to collapse. Jotaro's instincts were fast, he held Mikki by her hips to prevent her from falling. This was an even worse mistake. If a single name affected them, a touch was a million times more effective.

Mikki and Jotaro lost their grip and stumbled onto each other. Her glasses falling off her face as gravity pulled her closer to Jotaro.

And with that.... their faces were mere inches apart. Her lips brushed softly against Jotaro's. It certainly felt as if time had stopped. Perhaps, it did..

'I have a few seconds before time starts back up again.. God knows when she'll ever give me another chance.'

And the man with the hat took his chance, he kissed Mikki. The woman who always bickered with him, yelled at him, healed him, spoke with about their dreams and futures, stayed with him even with his bad attitude, his friend, his first kiss, his first love, the woman who held his heart.

He felt bliss when he closed his eyes and touched her. His hand rested gently on her waist, not wanting to scare her. He hated that this couldn't last long. Jotaro knew how awkward it was with Mikki.

Time was back to normal, Mikki had backed away from Jotaro. Her heart skipped beats, barely able to process what had happened. Jotaro, seeing Mikki's own face flushed and now realizing the position they were in, became flustered, his face becoming red. He gulped, starting to sweat and feel embarrassed.

"......"

Just silence. Awkward, nervous silence.

'Did, he just kiss me? What is this... why is my heart racing. I can't move. Jojo's face is so red, he's blushing. Is- is he sweating too?"

Mikki started to notice Jotaro's appearance more, his tan had become even more tanned. Probably from living in Florida, she wondered. He had looked older, with dark circles under his blue eyes. Was he working too hard? The little hair curl that always peaked out from his hat was gone. She thought he finally kept his hair neat now. Her hand became curious, moving through his shirt, feeling his heart pick up it's pace. Mikki's own heart mimicked Jotaro's, racing fast. His hand grazed her knee, sending shivers down her skin. His body radiating a warmth that melted her.

Mikki loved this feeling. She missed him. She craved him. She wanted him.

Mikki wanted Jotaro.

"I felt as if his heart was in my hands. I held it. I've never felt more closer to him than at this very moment. I want to cherish him, for the rest of my life.."

~~~♡

Oke. I am FINALLY FINISHED!!! This took SO LONG WTH. Kinda random how the story shifted from Mikki's career to her feelings around Jotaro. Its just so I can introduce her character a bit.. Yes she's very weird in the fact that she hates him, but actually really cares about him and has strong romantic feelings for him. Jotaro's romantic feelings are the same, he's more laid back about it tho, compared to Mikki. Anyway, PLEASE tell me your thoughts! Anything on anon, whichever...thank you if you read this far lol. Lmk if you liked it!♡ I love this ship and love to write for them♡♡♡

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

Running Mate - Part 4

Eek! Somehow we’re on part 4 and still going! I hope you all are enjoying this series as much as I am. I should have a few more updates for you soon with this series and with the Ninja Warrior Love Story series, so watch this space!

Idea: While running through the English countryside, Henry meets a fun documentarian and sparks fly.

CW: none

Word Count: 3,165 (sorry, the words got away from me on this one!)

taglist:

@maeleeme @andyrazzledazzle @fanfictionaddiction99 @henrycavillluv32 @blossom-a @jhenno2002​

The next morning, you wake up groggy from lack of sleep. The screening and after “party” for your documentary went on much later than you anticipated. So much so, you missed your alarm completely which means you missed running with Henry this morning. That was okay though, since you were seeing him later today. You walked out of the guest room where you were staying and into the kitchen where there was fresh coffee.

“Morning, sunshine,” James says and you grunt in response. James is sitting at the breakfast table reading through several of the feedback cards. You make yourself a cup of much-needed coffee then join James at the table. You pick up a few of the cards to read yourself.

“How did Fiona feel about the final product?” you ask. Fiona was your documentary’s main benefactor. She was a really kind woman with an eye for successful projects, so you were hoping that your efforts were worthy.

“She was seriously impressed,” James replied. “Everyone was, just read through the notes here,” he said, so you did. Almost everyone said the same thing, that the film was raw, real, and heartbreaking in a good way. You smiled as you read through the responses. There were some valuable critiques about editing, sound volume, and color correction and then there were some silly comments. You snorted reading a few and James nodded his head in agreement.

“Well, I think last night was a success,” you finally muse and James nods.

“A very successful night for you,” he replies and you squint at him over your mug.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“Oh, nothing,” he sighs. “I just can’t think of anyone else that shows a fantastic documentary then snogs Superman himself in the same night,” James finishes. He isn’t looking at you, but at the notecards, so he can’t see the serious scowl that you are giving.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, huffing a little.

“Mhmm,” James grunts and you huff a little more.

“Whatever,” you say, standing up from the table. “I’m going to equalize the audio from the second round of interviews,” you go to refill your mug before leaving.

“Alrighty, I’ll feed you Cheese-It’s if you get stuck in your room,” James says and you stop in your tracks.

“Oh my god, I’m going to murder Kyle for telling you that story,” you say and James laughs hysterically. You scowl the entire time walking to the room remembering when your old brother Jeremy caught you kissing a boy and accidentally locked you in your bedroom. Kyle, your older brother of five years, fed you Cheese-Its under the door while you waited for Jeremy to get the tools to fix it.

You got dressed in a large, chunky sweater, leggings, and big fuzzy socks. You took your hair and piled it into a bun on the top of your head. Then you shuffled into the workroom where James had a set up a computer bay for work. You grabbed a set of headphones and began equalizing the second round of interviews your director got.

Hours passed while you worked and you easily found yourself absorbed in the work. You were listening to a woman talk about her experience when something touched your shoulder. At the same time, there was a loud sound on the video.

“AHH!” you scream, jumping in your chair. You whip around to find James jumping back from you with his hands up in the air. Then he doubles over with laughter. “What do you want?” you demand, placing your hand over your heart. James is laughing and crying so hard he can barely talk. Finally, he calms down and composes himself.

“Henry Cavill is here,” he says, still chuckling and wiping away tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Who? Oh!” you yell, bouncing up from your chair and darting out of the room. Henry is standing in the living room looking at several pictures that James has up on the mantle. “Hey Henry,” you say as nonchalantly as possible. He turns around and smiles when he sees you.

“Hey,” he replies and your heart skips a beat. He’s wearing a simple blue shirt, jeans, brown leather shoes, and a newsboy hat. His smile is so genuine, even when it shows off those canines. “Are you ready to go?” he asks slowly taking in your current outfit. You look at him confused then you suddenly remember.

“Oh, no! I’m not ready!” you say quickly and turn to dart of to your room before turning back around. “I definitely did not forget that we were going out, I was just,” you pause trying to think of a better answer other than forgetfulness. Henry is smiling and trying to contain laughter.

“It’s okay,” he replies, the laughter clear in his voice. You sigh and smile at him.

“Give me about five minutes,” you say holding up your hand then darting off for your room. Quickly you throw on a pair of skinny jeans, replace the chunky sweater with a thinner gray sweater, and your ballet flats. You pull your hair out of the bun and run a brush through it quickly. You washed your face the night before so there were no traces of makeup and you didn’t have time to throw anything on now, so this would have to do. As you are leaving your room, you can hear Henry and James chatting about something.

“It’s a project we don’t have backing for just yet, so I’m trying to get as much together before we take it to our benefactors,” James says as you round the corner. You see Henry nodding with interest and then he sees you and smiles.

“Speaking of, James,” you start, waving a little at Henry. “There is a weird sound during Mrs. McClendon’s interview,” you say and James gives you a puzzled look. “Here, come listen. Henry, you can come along as well,” you say, turning and gesturing for the men to follow you. All three of you walk into the workroom and Henry whistles low.

“This looks very familiar to me,” he says and James smiles. You smile as you grab a set of headphones and hand them to James. He puts them on while you pull the audio back to the place of the sound. You can hear it even though the headphones are on his ears and watch as James jumps a little at how harsh the sound is.

“Jesus, that’s intense,” he says, taking the headphones off. “Just mark it and equalize like you normally would and we’ll decide later if we need this section of the interview,” he instructs and you nod. You grab a notepad by the keyboard and write everything down. James and Henry discuss his set up while you find and mark the audio. When you’re done, you turn to the two men.

“Okay, sorry about that Henry, I’m ready to go when you are,” you say and Henry nods. He shakes James’ hand and thanks him for letting him look around. As you leave with Henry, James calls out from the room. “Where are we going, by the way?” you ask, realizing you had no idea what the plan was.

“Well, there is a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum about Ancient Rome. I was thinking we could go take a look and then maybe grab something to eat,” he says and you can almost detect a hint of embarrassment in his voice. You smile wide at him.

“That sounds awesome!” you reply, genuinely excited. You haven’t been to the Natural History Museum here yet, though you’ve lived in London for over a year. You walk out to Henry’s car and he jogs to open the passenger door for you. “Such a gentleman,” you tease as you slide into the car. You can see Henry smiling to himself as he closes the door and jogs around to the drivers’ side. When you glance around the car, it doesn’t take long for you to realize this is a very fancy car and for a moment, you panic.

Henry climbs into the car, starts it, and you nervously arrange yourself in the seat. Henry doesn’t notice and drives off. The ride is silent for the most part until you decide to start asking Henry more about himself. You ask him about his home island, what it was like going to boarding school, and how he decided that acting was the direction he wanted to go in. Henry was a good sport and seemingly answers all of your questions honestly. You laugh with him through stories of growing up with four brothers and empathize with him as he talks about being the “weird” kid at school.

When you arrive at the museum, Henry easily finds parking. You attempt to let yourself out, but Henry stops you, jogging around to open the door for you. You give him a closed-lip smile and can’t refrain from saying something.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” you say and Henry looks confused. “Never mind,” you say, chuckling and shaking your head. Henry realizes what you meant and blushes.

“Sorry, I’m a gentleman through and through,” he says sheepishly. You reach up and gently cup the side of his face.

“It’s okay, just be better,” you joke before giving him a gentle yet firm pat on the cheek. His expression is a mixture of shock, surprise, and awe and it casques you to laugh out loud. You turn to run but Henry grabs a hold of your hand and pulls you back to him. He embraces you in a firm, playful way, laughing the whole time. After a moment, he lets go and you walk hand in hand with him into the museum.

Because you’ve never been the center of attention, you are much more aware of the stares that Henry, and subsequently you, are getting. Henry doesn’t seem to be phased by it, so you try hard to do the same, but you can’t deny that it’s very strange and unnerving. At the ticket booth, Henry goes to pull out his card, but you bump him out of the way dramatically and offer some cash to the woman. She looked confused as her eyes flicked between Henry and you.

“It’s okay, we’re trying to break him of his horrible, horrible gentlemanly ways,” you say and the ticket girl bursts into laughter. Henry is shaking his head and smiling as you accept the tickets and you smile wide at him as you hand him is the ticket. When you walk up to the next booth to have your tickets scanned, Henry begins gently tickling and nipping at your sides. It causes you to jump around and laugh. The ticket scanner is watching you with a strange look on her face.

“It’s fine, I’m just learning to not be a gentleman,” Henry says sardonically as he takes another jab at you to which you respond with a muffled squeal and slap to his hand. Both he and the ticket scanner laugh before you notice a recognition flash through her eyes. Henry doesn’t see this but you do.

“Do you want to get a picture with him?” you ask her and she smiles as Henry’s eyes dart back and forth before he understands what’s going on. You take the girls phone after she pulls up her camera for you. Henry obliges and puts an arm around the girl while smiling at you as you take several pictures. “Sell those for a lot of money,” you say handing the phone back to the girl. Henry rolls his eyes and barks out a laugh, before grabbing your hand and dragging you off. Once again you smile wide at him. “What? That was sound advice,” you joke at Henry’s side-eye. “Okay, I’m sorry, that was kind of mean,” you say, realizing you may have actually crossed a line with Henry. He stops and turns to you, looking down with those intense blue eyes. Then he reaches down, cups the side of your face and says,

“It’s okay, just be better,” then gently taps the side of your face. Your jaw drops open, but no sound comes out. You watch him walk away, a smug smile plastered across his face. Your place your hand over your heart and call out,

“The grasshopper is learning!” you laugh and watch as Henry laughs along with you. You powerwalk up to him and take his hand with yours, smiling proudly up at him. The rest of the afternoon is spent walking around the Ancient Greece exhibit. Henry enjoys pointing things out to you almost as much as he enjoys listening to you tell him about various bits of information. Several times he is stopped for pictures and autographs and you smile every single time it happens. Henry seems very connected with his fans and genuinely doesn’t seem to mind when they politely ask for something from him. A few times you take the picture for fans so groups or duos can all be together with Henry. What you appreciate is regardless of how chill Henry seems with the interactions, he always checks back with you and asks to confirm you are okay. At one point, the director of the museum found out Henry Cavill was there and offered to give you both a free, private tour of the exhibit.

“So this is how the other half lives,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, but Henry hears you and smirks. He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t take advantage of half the things I’m offered,” he whispers in your ear. You give him a sideways smirk and laugh at the silly face he makes. The director takes the two of you around the exhibit, explaining the reasoning behind the setup, placement and such. That aspect of the process is fascinating and you can’t help but grill him with questions. The director answers everything willingly and you openly ignore the smirk Henry has every time he looks at you.  

When you are done with the tour, you and Henry leave to go get something to eat as planned. He held your hand the entire time to the car and then reached across the console to hold your hand as he drove. Henry picked a nice restaurant not far from the museum. Not only did he open the doors for you, but he pulled your chair out as well. The waiter took your drink orders and left you to examine the menus. A few moments later, you gave your order and sipped the wine that was brought for you.

“I have to say,” Henry starts. “It was interesting to see you hound that museum director back there,” he says, smirking at you. Your jaw dropped and you scoffed.

“I did not hound him,” you claim and Henry snorts.

“You were relentless,” he replies and all you can do is scoff.

“I was interested in the process and I had questions,” you insist. Henry’s raised brow expression causes you to start giggling. Henry joins you and the two of you laugh like school children. You have to calm yourself because your waiter has brought out your food. After a few moments of eating, Henry speaks again.

“Tell me where the name Bulldog Westley comes from,” Henry asks as you finish a bite of your food. You smile, thinking about it.

“It’s a way to pay homage to James’ first love: his dog, Westley,” you say and Henry smiles. “He was the sweetest bulldog I ever met and absolutely the main reason James and I became friends in the first place,” you say, laughing. Henry laughs as well, a smile unmoving from his face.

“How did you and James meet?” he asks and again, you smile at the memory.

“We met at school. I went to The University of North Texas and James was an exchange student in the film program. We officially met while taking a Television Documentary course,” you say and Henry’s blue eyes twinkle. “We did try to date, but he’s honestly more like a fourth brother than a lover,” you say and make a face. Henry laughs, his smile making your heart flutter like crazy. Y’all finish your meal and Henry pays, making a point to look at you as he places his credit card in the book.

The drive back to James’ house is silent, but Henry holds your hand the entire time. His thumb occasionally grazes your knuckles. He pulls into the driveway and parks the car, looking over at you.

“Thank you for today,” you say and Henry offers a gentle smile.

“No, thank you,” Henry replies. “This was an amazing day,” you smile and feel your heart beating a million miles a minute. Henry pulls himself out of the car then jogs around to your door. He opens it and helps you out, then walks you up the short distance to the porch. You stand there, awkwardly wondering what Henry plans to do next. He makes himself clear when he closes the small gap between, gently placing his hands on either side of your face, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s gentle at first but quickly turns passionate. His tongue teases yours and he moans as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands slip down your shoulders and stop just above your butt on your hips.

Eventually, you break away from him, a smile permanently attached to your face. You look up at Henry through your eyelashes and see that he is smiling just as wide.

“You could come in for coffee or more wine or tea, if you want,” you say, hoping to god he’ll say yes so you can continue kissing those soft, delicious lips.

“I want to say yes, but,” Henry sighs and you groan.

“Oh, I know that ‘but’ well,” you murmur and Henry chuckles.

“I know, I’ve got work and meetings in the city,” he replies.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, baby,” you say and Henry smiles.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll never make it home,” Henry murmurs.

“Baby, baby, baby,” you purr, leaning in close to him. Henry sighs, pulling your body close to his. He leans down and kisses you deeply again. You snake your fingers through his hair, moaning into him. You kiss him passionately, feeling the warmth of his body even through his clothes. Finally, you break away from him, you both breathing heavily.

“I have to go,” Henry whispers, not letting go of you and not backing away.

“Then go,” you whisper back and Henry smiles painfully. He finally leaves and you watch as he drives away down the private road, running your thumb over your lips still feeling the tingle of Henry’s kiss.

[gccdnews]

Did you see JESSICA DREW from MARVEL walking around Limbo? The CISFEMALE looks like ALICIA VIKANDER, and is NINETY SEVEN years old. I’ve heard she can be VIRTUOUS & WITTY but also COCKSURE & REACTIVE. When I think of them I think of HELPING THE INNOCENT BY HOSPITALIZING THE GUILTY, RAISING SPIDER-BABY, THE GREATEST QUIPS OF ALL TIME BITCHCAKES. They’ve been here WITHOUT their memories as an PI & FIGHTER at BAKER STREET INVESTIGATIONS & UNDERGROUND FIGHT CLUB for SIX MONTHS. I heard they’re seeking a sanctum.

// whew. jess has a history™. it's long af and spans nearly a century so im not gonna go into crazy detail, but it's still lengthy. and i'm also gonna modify just a bit to fit in with the mcu for plotting reasons and stuff. if you don’t really care about her full history then there’s some bullet points toward the bottom.

she was born in england in 1924 and brought as a small child to the transia (it's a small, fictional slavic country) where her father was conducting research. unfortunately due to her being a small child, she contracted uranium poisoning from her father's work and had to be placed in a cryogenic chamber and treated with radiation and a highly experimental serum derived from the blood/genes of various species of spider.

she spent decades in stasis, educated subliminally with special tapes. when she was finally awakened she had only aged into her early teens, but she'd developed superhuman abilities.

grew up, moved away, met a dude, fell in love, then accidentally killed him with her powers. so yeah that kinda torments her still to this day. well, when she still remembered it anyway.

got recruited into hydra who she was led to believe were the good guys, had her memories suppressed, was told the high evolutionary basically a "god" figure, idek evolved her from a spider into a human woman, had an agent pretend to fall in love with her, etc etc. basically got gaslit and brainwashed into becoming a high ranking member until she was put out on a field assignment and told to assassinate nick fury. during the mission he told her what hydra really was and she dropped their asses.

got her memories back from mordred the mystic, then lived in a shitty apartment in london for a while. ended up breaking into a convenience store across the street at one point to get some food, but got noticed by shield agent jerry hunt who pretty much hounded her until she dyed her hair and created a secret identity to hide from him

did the hero thing for a while, moved to l.a., dated jerry, became a bounty hunter, moved to san francisco, became a p.i., superhero'd some more, met carol danvers 😍

went on a mission to finally take down longtime archenemy morgan le fay, and did so, but not before some morgan did some magic shit and separated her soul from her body ?? so she goes to the sorcerer magnus and has him cast a spell to make everyone who ever met her forget she existed.

not long later she was found and revived by two hero pals, breaking the spell, but she was left comatose. dr strange gets involved, abra cadabra, jess ain't a cadava'. but she is however, powerless.

continued working as a p.i. until an encounter with the new spider-woman mattie franklin somehow restored her powers, which came back slowly and were very unstable. meets jessica jones, accidentally zaps tf out of her, then works with her to save the new spider-woman.

eventually struck a deal with hydra to spy within shield so she could get her powers back but the skrull queen veranke was behind it and manipulating her so she could learn to perfectly impersonate jessica. jess ended up held captive for two years aboard a skrull spaceship while veranke took her place.

she and the rest of the captives got saved but because of the havoc veranke wreaked, she didn't exactly receive a warm welcome back.

spent some time rebuilding her reputation until she was invited to join the avengers (for avengers 1 in the mcu, let's say). they did some good work and she eventually fell for clint/hawkeye. they dated a while but things went sideways when he cheated on her (but obvs that's subject to change depending on who picks him up, just leaving that in for now bc it seems kinda noteworthy).

skipping comic spider-verse stuff bc how does that work with the rp, idek.

left the avengers after that and mostly stayed out of their business so she wasn't around for ultron or civil war and instead got back to her roots with some good ol fashioned p.i. work. may have crossed paths with the defenders and other street level heroes during this period.  

then of course, came the snap. jess was one of the ones that vanished. using this instead of her death during secret wars in the comics. when everyone came back she joined all the others to fight thanos and damn right she was part of that moment with all the female heroes like she should have fucking been irl.

when things settled down after y'know, dying, she realized that she wanted to be a mother and raise a child, and almost never got that chance. instead of waiting, she got herself artificially inseminated. which was good too tbh because like, look at her luck with men and imagine getting stuck in one of those relationships she'd been in so far. way better off doing it on her own smh

got invited to an alpha flight maternity ward by her captain marvel but when she went there it ended up getting overrun by skrulls and being super fucking pregnant she called carol for help, but the maternity ward was apparently in a black hole?? bc ofc it was lol. so jess protected all the women there, had an emergency c-section to give birth to her son gerry, then popped right off the table to finish kicking skrull ass. carol got there just in time for jess to collapse into her arms after the fight. headcanon — there was always a crush there but this was the moment jess fell hard.

had a liiittle teensy falling out with carol tho so she ended up kissing roger gocking/porcupine right in front of her during a battle that ended up repairing their friendship. then she went on to have a party announcing she and roger were dating but lbr she did most of this sub/consciously hoping to get a rise out of carol. but her spider-baby ended up crawling out a window and roger was the one to find and save him and there were some actual feelings there too, so. complicated. she kind of distanced herself from everything else to focus on p.i. work and raising her son.

not much later, jess realized her radiation immunity was gone and her powers were killing her, so she had roger take gerry to an upstate farm in case her condition could potentially harm her son, then set out on the search for a cure. that search of course, leading her to limbo city, nevada.

upon her arrival however, her memories quickly started to fade and by the time she woke up the next morning she had no specific recollection of memories. just innate and instinctive knowledge like her emotions toward people she was familiar with, emotional trauma that manifests mostly in her dreams, maternal instincts/yearning, her abilities both physical and learned, her interests and likes/dislikes, etc. things that come naturally to her, for the most part.

interestingly though, the town’s magic seems to have cured her??

gonna say she speaks english, romanian, german, hungarian, symkarian, russian, bulgarian, polish and spanish fluently, and knows a bit about a number of other languages.

incredibly intelligent, she is after all the daughter of a genius, raised among scientists conducting research, and her knowledge/intelligence was only maximized by her stasis education tapes.

exudes a high concentration of pheromones that can attract or repulse people, to put it simply. and ignore the original heteronormative connotations bc women aren't typically the ones she wants to repulse, and men arent always the ones she wants to attract. it's difficult to control but she learned over the years. even now without her memories she has innate control over it, but if she manages to work up a sweat (which isn't all that easy for her tbh) or misses a shower or two, well… it's gonna kick in.

she probably can't do it anymore in limbo because she can't remember how, but with her pheromones she learned to control them so well she was able to elicit fear, anxiety, attraction, hatred, pleasure, etc. and even used them to convince the hulk to make her a sandwich once.

fucking loves butter. she's been known to eat the stuff straight up. and a lot of it. lucky thing she has a spider-metabolism.

hc: she loves making puns, especially spider related ones. she also likes to annoy her spider-friends by spider-throwing the word spider in front of everything though it's obviously a joke, unlike in her cartoon where im pretty sure she was dead serious lol

hates rats. so much. she will tear down a whole skrull army but if one shapeshifts into a rat it's over okay, she already lost.

allergic to flerkens. which is great for visiting her bestie/crush, and her pet flerken chewie.

still has her suit but hasn’t worn it yet in limbo. she found it under her bed a couple days after “waking up” in limbo but put it right back because she figured it was probably some weird sex thing and maybe wasn’t even hers so, gross, yknow?

[cityofimagines]

Heat of the Moment - Thomas (TMR) x Reader

Request: Can you do a Thomas tmr smut where the reader gets taken and after their reunited Thomas makes his feeling known because he’s scared to loose her again?!

A/N: sorry for the wait on this one!! i kinda tested out a new writing style with this being in thomas’s pov & ive been trying to write it for days & days but i think i finally got it 🤪 hope you like it :)

Warnings: fluffy smut if that makes sense...writing this made me emo & im not even a thomas girl hahaha

Thomas’s P.O.V

It feels like the past few hours have sped by in about 30 seconds. 

We escaped the maze. We did it. Somehow. Minho, Newt, Frypan, Teresa, (y/n), Winston and I made it out alive. A few others weren’t so lucky, but I’ve decided to push those vivid memories to the back of my mind for now. 

Then suddenly we were in a helicopter. I had Chuck’s blood all over me, tears filling my eyes, and absolutely no sense of clarity in my brain. Until I looked at her. 

(y/n) was- is my right hand girl. My partner. Her and I were both runners back in the Glade, and then we escaped together. She made it as far as anyone else, to this crazy building we were currently being held in with a bunch of other kids our age that had almost the same experiences as us. 

When we got into this building, they separated us into different sections of one big room to get “checked out,” whatever that means. They took me behind a curtain and sat me in a chair. They did the same with Newt, Minho, Fry, Teresa and Winston. But (y/n) was different. They took her into a completely separate room. 

I remember yelling out her name and I remember her quickly whipping her head back to me. She opened her mouth to say something but the guards that were holding her shouted at her to “hurry up” and pulled her in the opposite direction. I remember seeing the fear in her eyes and hating myself for being strapped into a chair and not being able to do anything.

Eventually they let us go, which leads us to where we are now. We’re all currently in a small, stuffy room sitting on bunkbeds, staring at the ceiling. My mind was absolutely racing at the thought of what they could be doing to (y/n). I can’t lose her. I can’t.

That girl is everything to me. She doesn’t know it, but she is. She kept me sane in that maze every day. She is the only one who knows how to constantly put a smile on my face when I feel like shit. Not having her with me right now is killing me. 

“She’s gonna be fine Tommy. Don’t worry.” Newt said quietly from the bed above me. I never actually told anyone how I feel about her, but deep down they all know.

“Thanks Newt.”

I was sitting on the edge of my bed with my racing heart and racing mind constantly reminding me of my missing piece. I cannot believe I let her go so easily. I should’ve stepped in her place. How could I let this happen? The one person I know I genuinely love and I let her go. 

What felt like hours passed, and nothing. 

“How long have we been in here?” I asked.

“Dunno, about 45 minutes?” Minho said. I dropped my head dramatically into my hands. 

“Fuck.” I whispered. 

“Hey man...she’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure I heard her say they’re gonna bring her back.” Minho explained. I had no idea if he was being serious or not, but even if he wasn’t I still had hope that she would be reunited with us soon.

“I still can’t believe we’re out. Like we’re out of the maze and we’re he-” Fry started but was soon cut off by the loud creaking of our metal door opening. All of a sudden I heard a loud “thud” followed by some shouting. 

“Here’s your friend. Now all of you, out to dinner. NOW!” They yelled and slammed the door behind them. 

“(Y/N)?!” I yelled, more to myself than anyone else. I stared at her body on the floor for a split second before I came to my senses. I immediately ran over and picked her up. 

“Thomas.” She said and practically fell into my arms. 

“Oh my God thank goodness you’re okay.” Teresa exclaimed and wrapped her arms around her best friend from the other side. 

“We’re so glad you’re alright.” Newt said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was still mainly in my embrace while everyone else came over to console her. 

A few minutes later, there was another bang on our door. “EVERYBODY IN THE COMMON ROOM, NOW!” 

(y/n) let go of me and looked around. “I’m okay. You guys go.” 

“No.” I began. “You guys go ahead. I’ll stay here with (y/n). I don’t need anymore of us getting in trouble.” I said. 

“You sure?” Newt asked. 

“Positive. Really, go ahead.” I persisted. 

“Okay.” Newt shrugged. “I trust you. Come get us if you need anything.” And with that, they all walked out the door, leaving (y/n) and I alone. 

“Thomas?” She said in barely a whisper. 

“What is it babe?” I said using the nickname for her that accidentally slipped out one day during one of our runs through the maze. She smirked and raised an eyebrow, but never said anything to me directly about it. I just kept up with calling her that and it stuck. 

“Will you hold me?”

“Of course.”

I wrapped my arms around her tightly and put my head in the crook of her neck. Her breathing started slowing over time. I rubbed my hands up and down her back softly. I wish I knew what was on her mind right now.

A few minutes later she pulled away. She looked into my eyes for a split second and the next thing I knew, she was doing the thing that I had been too much of a wuss to do for 7 months. 

Her lips were locked on mine. Hair was tangled, desperate hands were running up and down each other’s bodies, and hot breath tickled my neck. This was everything I wanted for as long as I could remember. 

“Let me make you feel good baby.” I pleaded. She nodded. 

Soon enough lips were back on lips. I made the first move and began to kiss her neck. She moaned softly which made my knees weak. Her hands trailed to the hem of my blue t shirt, and soon enough I felt cold, soft fingers tracing my burning skin. 

“Thomas...” She said. I led her to one of the beds behind us. I sat down and she straddled me. We kissed for a few more seconds before I quickly took my shirt off. I saw her eyes scan my newly exposed body which only made me want to do the same with her. 

“Can I take this off?” I asked softly, tugging on the hem of her shirt. 

“Please.” I gently helped her out of the long sleeve she was in, and threw it somewhere unknown on the floor. I kissed her shoulders and collarbones as her hands ran up and down my back. 

“Look at you...my gorgeous girl.” I breathed. She responded by kissing me, hard. I took that to mean she was ready for the next step. 

Pants came off, and bodies were exposed. Silliness invaded our intimate time when she accidentally hit her head on the bottom of the top bunk when we went to lay down. 

“You okay babe?” I asked smiling. 

“Never better.” She replied. 

“Are you ready for this?” I asked.

“Yes. Please. I want all of you.” She whispered. 

“(y/n)?” I said. 

“Yeah?” 

I paused, unsure if the timing was right. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided that this was the perfect time to tell her. We had just been through hell and back together and now we’re in this perfect, emotional moment. This is it. No going back now. 

“I love you.” I said without giving it a second thought. Once I said it, I knew it was right. I’ve loved her for a long time, and this moment with her right now has absolutely confirmed that for me. 

She looked up at me with her beautiful eyes. “I love you too Thomas.” 

I felt my heart physically skip a beat at her words. All I could do was lean down and kiss her again. “Are you ready?” I whispered against her lips. 

“Yes.” She said. 

I slowly pushed into her, giving her time to adjust to the feeling. My mouth dropped open at the feeling of her warmth around me. I noticed her face scrunch up slightly and I grabbed her hand. I pressed soft, gentle kisses to her knuckles. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah...just give me a second.” She said. After a few moments, “You can move now. I’m okay.” 

I kissed her nose before pushing the rest of the way in. I started slowly thrusting inside of her. The kisses got more passionate as time went on, moans became more frequent, and skin glistened from the heat of the moment. She looked perfect. 

“Fuck Thomas...I’m- I’m getting c-close.” She said. Her hand grabbed onto my shoulder as she bounced underneath me. 

“Me too baby girl. You can let go. I’ve got you.” I said. 

With that, she hit her release, with me not too long after. I pulled out and collapsed next to her on the bed. 

“That was amazing.” She said. 

“Yes it was.” I nodded. 

“Thank you.” She said softly. I turned to look at her. 

“I love you.” 

[chaoticspacefam]

OC Playlist Meme - Saarai (of course)

I was tagged by @thehighground​ (thank you! :D) this one was super fun!! I was caught between the twins of who I should do for this one, Saarai won because she is my favourite and her 70-song playlist was basically made for memes like this (yes, you heard me, 70. No it’s not a typo. Yes I have a slight, maybe, problem with her being my favourite LOL) 👍

I’ve shared all their playlists at various points, if you search up the “swtor oc theme songs” and “oc playlist” tag on the blog you should be able to find them! Or if you want links to the full playlists drop me a line and I can link you to them no problem! :D

Just the one this time cause this one’s pretty long, if I get tagged again tho I’ll do Ni’kasi next! :D

I shall tag (if you feel like it, no pressure as always!) @abyssal-space​ @stratosara​ @anchanted-one​ @pauletta-00​ @hypnowinnermugpeach​ and anybody else who wants to have a go, this one’s super fun! Long post so under a cut! <3 gonna pop the content warning up here to: TW for mention of past abuse/manipulation and parental abuse in one of the songs in case ya wanna avoid it. there’s a warning above the specific section as well if you wanna read the rest and just skip that song, up to you!

♦️  Their intro theme: Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats

“I’m gonna get myself in fighting trim, scope out every angle of unfair advantage. I’m gonna bribe the officials, I’m gonna kill all the judges! It’s gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage!! Our mother has been absent, ever since we founded Rome. But there’s gonna be a party when the wolf comes home.”

♦️  Their own favorite song: DARKSIDE - Shinedown

(She has to set a good example with being one of the leaders of the Alliance (especially because her saying “don’t do that” is the only reason her sister and Aria don’t go for their new Jedi allies - at least to start with, before the Alliance y’know, bonds and becomes a proper coalition!). But learning to trust Jedi was still hard for her after what they did to her people, and I feel like if it existed in the verse she’d find it relatable and listen to it a lot.)

“Can you hear me, am I speaking clearly? Are you star-struck or just made of stone? Block out the actors, and all these bastards. That took all the fun out of rage and revenge.”

♦️  Their boss battle theme: Castle - Halsey

(it was difficult to pick one for this one, she has quite a few in her playlist that I consider her “boss battle” songs for various points in her life/the two different verses. But I think this one is the most universal! :D)

“I’m heading straight for the castle. They wanna make me their Queen. And there’s an old man sitting on the throne there sayin’ that I ‘probably shouldn’t be so mean.’ I’m heading straight for the castle...they got the kingdom locked up. And there’s an old man sitting on the throne there sayin’ ‘I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut!’.”

♦️  Their love song: (one for each of her main ships, but again, they have whole playlists because I use playlists to “set the mood” of the character/ship while I write. Pro writing tip, do it. It helps [nod nod] <3)

For Zephyrverse/Sash: Heaven’s Gate - Fall Out Boy

“And in the end if I don’t make it on the list, would you sneak me a wristband? Or would you give me, give me, give me a boost? Give me a boost over heaven’s gate. I’m gonna need a boost, cause everything else is a subtitute for your love. Give me a boost over heaven’s gate.”

For Subterfugeverse/Lana & Koth: The Last Of The Real Ones - Fall Out Boy

“I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do. As much as I do...Cause you’re the last of a dying breed, write our names on the wet concrete. I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me. I’m here in search of your glory, there’s been a million before me, that ultra-kind of love you never walk away from. ”

♦️  Their sad times song: Bruno Is Orange - Hop Along (tw: mention of abuse/manipulation, parental abuse)

“ ‘Bruno, what happened to your good sense?!’ I broke down ‘That man was good!!’ ‘I bet he works for the government!’ Did you hear about that mother, broke her daughter’s legs in two and said: ‘It’s too dangerous out there to walk so I have to save you!’ ”

♦️  A song that fits their aesthetic: Woman King - Iron & Wine

“Black hoof mare. Broken leg. Eye on the shotgun shell. Age old dog. Hornet’s nest. Built in the big church bell. Hundred years, hundred more. Someday we may see a woman king, sword in hand, swing at some evil and bleed.”

♦️  A song that reminds them of a better time: Downhill - Lincoln

(though most of this song has sad undertones to it, this part in particular would remind her of the short time she had with her father when he was alive, when he would take the twins outside and sit them on his lap to look at the stars <3)

“Cause you were the first one to show me the stars. And they don’t mean much to me, but I still wonder where you are. Some nights I still try to find you, relative to constellations. And all your relatives are still on vacation, or so I heard from a friend...”

♦️  A song that calms them down: 10,000 Enemies - Emeli Sandé

(headcanon that this is a song their mother D’leah used to sing to her and her twin, Ni’kasi, when they were children hiding out on Rishi and it stuck with her.)

“I hear the sweetest sound, blowing from the North. It says ‘don’t panic now, what’s mine is yours...’ I hope 10,000 times you tell me the truth. Cause now there’s much to do. I trust in you. I shall be free...I shall be free. We shall be free.”

♦️  A song that gets them hyped up: Young And Menace - Fall Out Boy

“We’ve gone way too fast for way too long. And we were never supposed to make it half this far. And I’ve lived so much life, lived so much life. I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice.”

I’m assuming this section is meant to mean a song the character would associate with each season? So I hope I’ve interpreted that correctly, I wasn’t really sure what else it was referring to. So that’s what I’m doing LOL

♦️  Spring: Thunder - Imagine Dragons

“Just a young gun with a quick fuse. I was uptight, wanna let loose. I was dreaming of bigger things and wanna leave my own life behind. Not a yes sir, not a follower, fit the box, fit the mold, have a seat in the foyer. Take a number, I was lightning, before the thunder.”

♦️  Summer: The Times They Are A’Changin’ - Fort Nowhere

(a.k.a the time of year where everything went to hell for her, though she uses it to remind her of how far she’s come once she’s older and more at peace with everything that happened so it’s positive in the end!)

“Come gather round people, wherever you roam. And admit that the waters around you have grown, and accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you is worth saving, well you better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone. For the times, they are a’changin’.”

♦️  Autumn: Dragon - Built By Titan feat. Skyborne

“When I was younger, I had a dragon. We would fly away to places you can’t imagine. And this is a story, of a lonely island. And a boy who found a way to become a lion.”

♦️  Winter: Youth - Glass Animals

(Winter is when Ty was born so it’s a mixed bag of trauma-induced depression (See “sad-times” song above), missing her twin and being sad about what happened but also wanting to make sure Ty never has to experience what she did and just wanting him to have a safe & happy life, so. This song kinda fits that.)

“Boy, when I left you you were young. I was gone but not my love, you were clearly meant for more than a life lost in the war. Oh, I want you to be happy, free to run get dizzy on caffeine, funny friends that make you laugh and maybe you’re just a little bit dappy.”

♦️  The song that plays while they’re lying on the ground bleeding out in a Walmart: Everything You Ever - Neil Patrick Harris (from Dr Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog)

“So your world’s benign. So you think justice has a voice? And we all have a choice? Well now, your world is mine.”

♦️  The song that would play each morning if they’re stuck in a time loop: Ends Of The Earth - Lord Huron

“ Oh, there's an island where all things are silent, I'm gonna whistle a tune. Oh, there's a desert that size can't be measured; I'm gonna count all the dunes.”

♦️  The song they’d listen to while robbing a Wendy’s: Pork Soda - Glass Animals

“Somebody said I’m a fucking slum, don’t know where I belong. Maybe you’re fucking dumb, maybe I’m just a bum. Maybe you’re fucking scum, don’t you go psycho chum.”

♦️  The song they’d accidentally introduce to people in medieval times if they were a time traveller: The Time Warp - Rocky Horror Picture Show.

(Also not accidentally, she has a silly side and she’d probably play this one for the LOL’s to see who got it or who got mad. She’d totally learn the dance moves and do those too XD)

“ The blackness would hit me And the void would be calling Let's do the Time Warp again Let's do the Time Warp again.”

♦️  The song they’d play in the middle of the night when their neighbors are being too loud: Blood // Water - grandson

("Do you think if I play a really loud, aggressively threatening song they’d shut the fuck up? I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna try it.” XD).

“You’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter, what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water?!”

♦️  The song that plays at their funeral: Sax Rohmer #1 - The Mountain Goats

“Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they're gone. Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on. And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction. All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection. And I am coming home to you. With my own blood in my mouth...yes I am coming home, to you. If it’s the last thing that I do.”

♦️  The song that plays when it’s revealed that they faked their death: Joan of Arc - Arcade Fire

“You’re the one that they used to hate but they like you now. And everything that goes away will return somehow....first they love you, then they kill you, then they love you again...and then they love you, then they kill you, then they love you again.”

[axe-trio-commanders]

Quiet

Yeah, both of the commanders are very much introverts. Very, very mild lws3 spoilers, some mostly vague lws4 spoilers, and some rather direct personal story Priory line spoilers.

    Zori let out a sigh of relief as she pulled herself up and over the final pile of rubble, the stone now well-worn enough that she didn't feel small bits of grit underneath her paw. The tall, underground tower that led to this place was getting easier and easier to navigate- and she wasn't sure if it was because she'd just gotten better at sneaking past them, or if they'd just learned not to bother her, that the Separatists hadn't bothered her on the way up, but she didn’t really mind, either way. And now… she let her fur lie flat, taking a deep breath of the lavender-scented air, a small smile coming to her face as she looked out into her own little patch of paradise. She started forwards again, careful not to step on the small flowers that littered the ground, carpeting the place, surrounding the tall, stone structures of the Ascalonian ruins surrounding them, golden orange trees filtering the beams of sunlight that were cast into the hollow. And… ahh, beyond the soft wind meandering through, faintly rustling the leaves, it was just so… quiet.

     She'd make her way to a small, shaded spot in front of a tree, taking a moment to admire the little wild garden she'd been taking care of. It wasn't really high-maintenance, really- she didn't need anything to be neatly sectioned, and she rather liked the vines crawling their way up the walls, but… she took a small joy in helping the more fragile flowers keep their own little patch of land. They were already native to the place, of course- she wouldn't want something invasive running rampant- but they'd been struggling to survive when she first arrived- and…

They'd been Sieran's favorite.

     ...She took in a deep breath, let it out. She… still wasn't 'over that'- by now, she… didn't think she ever would be, but… she was coming to terms with that. If anything, she didn't want to forget- not that Sieran was gone, but… that she had been there. And… that was why she was here now. Zori reached into her pack, pulling out a well-used tome- not titled, not yet- she hadn't thought of one, though she'd managed a… brief introduction. She'd glance over it as she turned the pages-

"A tribute to some of many who deserve to be remembered."

She'd started writing it… soon after Balthazar died- after only a short trip around Istan, after having seen the school in Vabbi… she'd heard speeches about past rulers rewriting history, but… only then had the consequences held weight to her. That not only might the people she loved, the people she needed might not only not be remembered, but… be remembered poorly. So… she'd start leafing through the pages. Each titled with a name, categorized in the Priory research method she'd had drilled into her head so many times- she often wondered if Gixx would be proud of her, seeing this. Date of entry, date of events- strict truth, then… any personal notes in annotations. There were… a lot of notes in annotations… "Ev Forestner", "Albas", "Trahearne", "Braham Eirsson", "Rox"... "Blish"... the ones closer to the front had notes scribbled up the margins in want for more space to write, until she'd resorted to simply skipping pages ahead to continue writing, sure she wouldn't be able to close the book soon if she simply added pages… names, so many names and stories she felt obligated to preserve, as best she could- each name held a weight, each…

     She stopped at an… almost blank page, the emptiness… glaring- painful, with the name written above it. She'd… tried, before to write this, but found that words were… difficult. How was she supposed to explain everything she wanted to? How did she start…?

     …Another deep breath. Pulling out the pen. Putting it to the page. Just write… something. Just write something, and she'd find so much more to say…

"Sieran"

X-1325 AE

Entry date: 1332 AE

-I still miss her.

-------

     Sweet aromas filled the air of their temporary campsite, the soft clinks of a spoon hitting the side of a wooden stirring bowl the only sound. The stars were out, and most of the others would be asleep, but… well, Seremnis had promised a cake the next day, and she planned to deliver. Strawberry, of course- they always had more than they would ever need stockpiled, thanks to Zori- and, to her surprise, it seemed the group had yet to grow tired of them. So, a strawberry cake- fresh, chilled strawberries in the vanilla icing. She already had the spongy stuff itself baking- the icing was what she was stirring now; and… hm.

     She paused, lifting her hand and inspecting it, noticing a bead of sap bubbling out of a small cut on the side of her hand. Had she… gotten that cooking, or… fighting off wild animals? ...Either way, it'd probably gotten into the icing. Not enough to affect the flavor much, but… she'd have to be a little more careful with how she applied it. Didn't want to accidentally summon something from the realm of torment while making a cake- or, mother forbid, entice one of the Five to come back and actually do something helpful for… hm, there was a thought, though. Could she make an abomination-summoning cake? She knew full well that sap worked as a replacement for blood, but in frosting…? The real issue was that she didn't have anyone good to send it to. Anyone who would have to receive it was either her friend, too deeply mired in politics, or dead. And she wasn't going to just send it to some poor random citizen… she sighed. No, no demon-cakes today.

     She mixed in a couple more pieces of glacial ice to keep the mixture cool, knowing she'd have to pull the magically cold material back out in the morning, content with the mental image of… really any member of Dragon's Watch getting their tongue stuck trying to lick the frosting off- they were safe to eat, anyways, if not the best for one's teeth, so she didn’t find any need to be worried about the consequences… and then she'd step away, sitting just outside, to wait.

     Really, she didn't mind staying up late. She… was a night bloom- preferred the quiet and darkness to the busy chaos of the daytime- but… more than that… she laid back on the ground, looking up at the stars. It was a clear night- one of the first she'd seen since she'd gotten here- and… well, maybe it'd been too long now since she'd looked at the real ones, rather than just the ones she made for herself in her dreams. It was… somehow even more vibrant than she remembered, the night sky- but… still, she'd raise a hand, tracing constellations with a finger, a soft smile on her face. She'd always loved hearing Malomedies talk about them; their names, the stories other races had given them, what they meant… it was… the happiest memory of the Grove she had.

     The Grove… it wasn't home, anymore, not really. Not for her. Without a connection with the Dream, it felt… emptier than it once had, even with the new connections she'd gained through Aurene- and Mother…

     Seremnis closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. But… it was alright. She had… another home, now- not quite anywhere, or in... anyone she’d expected, but... she’d found a new family, here, in Dragon’s Watch. A small smirk crossed her face as she opened her eyes again, remembering the poorly disguised puppy-dog eyes of yesterday’s Zori. A new family that, evidently, wanted cake.

[howlingmoonrise]

Dear Yuletide Author

hello and thank you for signing up for yuletide, i hope you have fun during the challenge!

i ramble a lot so my letter is under a readmore (i put everything in one post so you don’t have to juggle links around). obviously you don’t have to follow any of the things i put in here, but hopefully this will help you out!

general things i like

PINING. I’M SUCH A SLUT FOR PINING ALL THE PINING ULTRA PINING SUPER PINING. i have SO MUCH FUN reading about idiots in love who aren’t together yet and i far prefer it to fics with already established relationships. this is also applicable to when they know the other is in love with them but they can’t act on it for some reason.

i’m down for either gen or romantic!! what really does it for me is the developing relationship, platonic or otherwise, and the character dynamics and interactions and all the little moments in between. stuff like developing trust and finding kinship and growing respect for the other and subconsciously learning to lean on the other over anyone else is far more important for me than any kissing will ever be (though kissing is also nice if you wanna go down that route lmao)

i love love LOVE enemies/rivals-?to-friends?-to-lovers and bickering pairs in general, as you can probably tell by my choice in character! it’s so much fun and it gives us so many opportunities for character and relationship developments :D

continuing from the above points, nothing kills me as much as characters that bicker all the time but in the end they rely on the other and go to each other before they go to anyone else, whether they realize it or not

i REALLY like the canon and characters for all the fandoms i picked, so sticking at least to their characterizations and the overall “tone” of canon is a huge plus!! “missing scenes” and “what if” canon-divergent situations are excellent, as are continuations from where canon left us! that being said, i also enjoy more conceptual AUs and i’ve put more details about those a little further below. rule of thumb is that i enjoy AUs where the focus remains more on the relationship itself and how it works on such a setting than on the worldbuilding for it.

fun tropes i enjoy (sorry, these are a bit romance-leaning but if you’re not into that they can probably be adapted somehow): fake dating, accidentally got roped into x and shenanigans of all sorts keep happening, misunderstood confessions, groundhog day au, one or both the characters having stupid levels of denial while technically in a relationship and just not realizing it like What Do You Mean We’re Dating??, that sorta thing.

TROPE SUBVERSION ALL THE WAY!

general things i dislike

kidfics. babyfics. next gen fics. pregnancy fics, or even pregnancy discussed in the fic is a major squick of mine. the one exception i make for kidfics is for petshop of horrors when it comes to chris and the pets, as they already belong in canon, but no babies or children otherwise please.

future fics in general, actually. what i enjoy is the relationship development, so huge time skips make me feel like we missed way too much. one exception to this is post-canon petshop of horrors, for obvious reasons.

i usually don’t like most angst stuff since it feels a bit gratuitous to me when it comes to most fandoms and characters. the one exception for this is psoh (see below if you’re picking this fandom - and wow psoh seems to be the exception to everything huh) or when it’s a more introspective sort of fic. as a result of this, i’d pass on most content with major character death, sexual abuse, self-harm, the like, though of course there are always exceptions to the rule and you’re free to write as you wish!

hard AUs are a bit ugh to me. by this i mean AUs that rely heavily on setting, such as high school AUs, harry potter AUs, that sort of thing. i DO however enjoy stuff like siren AUs and soulmate AUs, depending on the concept and on the fandom. more details in their own sections if you enjoy writing those!

i heavily dislike things involving cheating/infidelity, sickfics, and genderbending of any kind is a bit ehhhh for me, as are concepts such as ABO. hard pass on stuff like dysphoria and deep diving into most mental illnesses, too (with a possible exception for depression when it comes to psoh). 

script-based or roleplay fic is not really my preferred format, i really enjoy prose instead of nearly all dialogue!

if you’re going for nsfw

kinks

moderate sadomasochism, uncommon forms of bondage (plants, stuck with strange substance or in awkward position, the shadows from p&tf as restraints, etc), choking/breathplay, xenophilia and tentacles/alien genitals (shadowplay in p&tf, non-human genitals for the staryk lord, etc), moderate degradation, edging/desperation play, ladies topping and calling the shots, bloodplay/knifeplay, long hair/hair pulling (staryk lord, leon orcot), sharp nails/claws (staryk lord, charlotte la bouff, count d; miryem mandelstam having them is actually preferable to the staryk lord now that i think of it), lowkey cannibalism imagery (count d re:leon orcot)

squicks

scat, vomit, praise kink, daddy or baby kink, vore, forced feminization, pet play, gore, abuse, abo, anything involving pregnancy at all

--

PETSHOP OF HORRORS

i’m usually not very partial to angst but GODS does psoh throw that out of the window, so feel more than free to run with it if you wanna go down that route.  psoh is RIPE for angst. we got two people with abandonment and inadequacy issues: leon who decided to leave his whole life behind to chase someone who gave him life and then left and initially didn’t even bother to do it with any sort of goodbyes, and d who is supremely fucked up by his upbringing and had to push leon off the ark to continue his family’s mission and let drop one (1) single tear that he was not supposed to cry over a human. those fuckers. those idiots. i love them so much.

THAT BEING SAID, i also!!!! love slice of life shit for them!!!!!!!! GODS i love how much they bicker but then they turn around and the other is the person they rely on the most and who they trust implicitly above all others and how they keep roping each other into ridiculous shenanigans. neither of them are particularly communicative with a few rare exceptions, so there’s also a lot of room there for introspection and unspoken affection on both sides, which i LOVE. my son leon in particular is also super underestimated when it comes to his intelligence and tolerance for gay shit both in canon and fandom, and he performs ridiculous leaps of logic and instinct that somehow turn out to be right but that are super ???? for everyone else involved, and that’s always fun to see. hell, just another missing scene where leon brings d some cake and they banter fondly over tea is A++++ to me!!

nsfw???? bring it!!! this is the one fandom where you’re more than free to go super dark and kinky if you wanna, or if you wanna write tender loving reunion sex where d cries a little while leon is loving and disbelieving and so very careful that’s also excellent! i don’t have a particular preference on who tops either, it’s fun either way, but i tend to see leon more as a sub/masochist >u> i can also see it going a bit dark with those two, especially considering d and his kind (implied to eat human flesh and being predators more than once) so bloodplay and cannibalistic thoughts could be fun. re: d’s genitals (as are hotly debated in the fandom), i usually prefer either a dick or triple threat d, though some fun plant-man shenanigans also have their place here.

all in all, psoh is the most excellent genre triangle where i’d be super happy to receive anything on the slice-of-life/angst/smut corners! (also, slash is 3249823% acceptable if you couldn’t tell by my ranting, as is a hint of crack)

if you’re thinking going AU on this one, my suggestions are of slight universe alterations instead of major world AUs. examples could be soulmate AUs (trope subversion would be GREAT here, aka foreign script they didn’t initially recognize, or only Ds having soulmates while humans do not, or the same scenario as the last but leon DOES have it on his skin and just keeps it hidden because Normal Humans Don’t Have Birth Tattoos, or d never expected to have one because his kind is dead and yet when he pushes leon from the ark the soulmate bond is forged, etc), a different first meeting, or even missed connections when they did not know each other yet; something like papa being alive and brady bunch-ing it up with them and chris would also be both excellent and hilarious. epistolary form for those two is also fun! if you wanna go full universe AU, something like a vampire hunter leon could be very interesting >u>

--

SPINNING SILVER

WHERE DO I EVEN START. miryem and the staryk lord were my favourite part of the book; if the book was only their story i would have already been more than satisfied. the rest of the book is also excellent, but those two???? that story was far too great. enemies to allies to lovers is one of my favourite tropes, and this is one of the examples that just keeps proving me right. the slowly growing respect, the wariness when they both know what the other is capable of, the staryk lord getting hit with the hots for his wife when she manages the impossible and then miryem being unable to just let it go when he’s imprisoned and defeated. ACTUALLY lemme just grab that line of thought and bring up that moment when he was sorrowful and resigned when miryem didn’t argue further for the three rooms full of gold and he thought she would not succeed and that she would have to die for it. that, right there? those moments of renewed respect, those moments sudden longing for something they did not know they wanted? those are the things that kill me.

tonally, i love the sort of writing in canon too much to ask for anything different, though you’re by no means obliged to keep to it or to 1st person pov (i have a love-hate relationship with 1st person pov, ngl). missing moments from the novel or moments from the period of time they spent either courting or apart would be GREAT. for those two i actually don’t mind it too much if they’re already established, if it’s early on in the relationship when they’re still learning how to step around one another. the staryk lord flabbergasted or in awe of miryem is always Excellent(TM). bits of worldbuilding and staryk culture would be fun as applied to their relationship (such as the names thing, or courting habits, etc) as are AUs such as soulmates or alternate meetings and the like. if you’re wanting to go full universe AU, keeping some fairytale elements would be great!

if you’re going for nsfw? the name kink, holy shit that would be so goooood. the staryk lord being a bit of a masochist under miryem’s hands would also be great, and inhuman staryk genitals and erogenous zones/acts would be great to play with such as human body heat affecting them in different ways from normal, etc. bringing in his long hair would be a major plus. the build-up for the actual act is the best, so miryem and the staryk lord being super hot for each other while either denying it internally pre-relationship or being unable to go through with it post-relationship due to several factors (busy dealing with their people, no privacy, etc) would be EXCELLENT. so much fun can be had here!

--

PRINCESS AND THE FROG

i am 100% aware this is a weird-ass pairing but gods, the possibilities. it has so much potential. there are few things i like quite as much as a villain and a good person developing a strange sort of kinship with each other. this doesn’t have to mean in a romantic way, obviously! as i said, for me it’s the building understanding and reluctant respect that i really love, far more than the actual romance. 

ideas, ideas, ideas. i’m aware this is a rare relationship to either portray or ask for, so i’m gonna try to give some more concrete-ish ones for you to build up on if you have no clue as to how to approach this. we could have canonverse with charlotte dealing with the shadowman in some other matter while the main plot is occurring, making him feel somewhat guilty about the whole marriage plot with laurence-turned-naveen; cue introspection or an entirely different outcome. or a post-canon sort of hades&persephone plot, with charlotte curious despite herself and tempted to listen to a shadow/dead/whatever!dr facilier when she’s the only one that can hear him, or her being dragged Beneath as well in a freak accident and then charming him into helping her back to the surface/living world (very, veeeeery reluctantly on his part, at least at the start, he might have even be thinking of tricking her but then change his mind when the time comes to do it). i think dr facilier wouldn’t be sure how to deal with charlotte’s particular brand of personality and good humour, and it’d throw him off his rhythm a lot - that sort of thing is always super fun to write. 

soulmate au in canon would work pretty well, but with this pairing? FULL WORLD AU IS YOURS FOR THE TAKING. keeping to the shadowman sort of thing to her normal bougie self would be a major plus; it’s one of her charms. also, charlotte thinking that she wants one thing (her prince, for example) while keeping getting drawn to him time and time again could work on pretty much any era or setting. vice-versa for him, thinking he wants to be rid of her but coming to realize he’d actually miss her if she were to be gone. OR, charlotte deciding she wants this sullen manipulative bastard and manipulating HIM into taking her out and hanging out with her would be hilarious.

if you wanna do nsfw, i have only one major request: charlotte calling the shots/topping. i think this arrangement would be entirely in character for both of them (dr facilier would prob also enjoy having someone else do all the work lol) considering her go-getter attitude, but keeping in mind his manipulative personality i’d be more comfortable if she had some control over what was happening. ASIDE FROM THAT, dyou know what would be fun? a little darkness, and by that i mean consider dr facilier’s shadow joining in on the fun. shadows would also be an interesting sort of constraint. also i know i said charlotte calling the shots, but she can be constrained by the shadows while being amused by it or being used for it to happen (the latter case implying it’s not the first time that they’ve used it in bed play), or charlotte could team up with Shadow to do it to facilier instead. charlotte using her nails and facilier being a bit of a sub/masochist would also be pretty good!

(actually in general it’d be really fun if there was some complicity between charlotte and facilier’s shadow in general, regardless of nsfw or not. the shadow being wrapped around her little finger is an excellent concept, especially if facilier isn’t too fond of her just yet lmfao.) 

thank you for reading all my rambling, and i hope you have fun!

[mothkingtv]

I'm Coming Home, Ace - Part 2: The Tower

In some ways, he missed the old tower.  It was always getting traffic as guardians came to and fro, occasionally they'd chase a soccer ball into the vanguard planning room, infuriating Zavala to no avail while Cayde and Ikora laughed at his expense.  Every now and then the guardians would accidentally kick the soccer ball into the back of Ikora's head, making Cayde chuckle beneath his breath.  The guardians would stop moving, as if they'd been his with some kind of spell, and just pray that Ikora didn't think it was them.  She would turn around, preparing some kind of chastising remark in her head, before sighing and kicking the ball back to them.

"Please, no more soccer in the hall of the Vanguard," she would ask, doing her best to hide her irritability.  

That never happened now, though.  This new section of the tower that they called home had it's own soccer field out near the hangars, which was, ironically, where he was.  It was why he thought of the old tower so often, he assumed.  Every now and then when Holliday had some time off between fixing every goddamned ship that a Guardian managed to break, she'd even join the guardians playing soccer for a few minutes.  It was still an odd feeling to him, however, not having a hall of the vanguard where he and his fireteam could talk about everything in person.  Now, Zavala was always on that fancy big balcony looking out at the city and the wall beyond it, and Ikora was off on the complete other side of the tower near the noodle shop.  He'd share his lunch with Ikora there, every now and then, but he'd always preferred to keep to himself.

He had a small "tent", as he liked to call it, a few feet away from Amanda's workspace.  At least he'd have a conversation if he wanted it, but after the Red War he was so caught up with his work that he hardly ever had time to enjoy himself.  Even a whole damned year later, they still didn't have an estimated body count, and there were still some rogue groups of Cabal hiding out in the city's outskirts.

Every day he'd run down the checklist on his datatablet.  He kept files on all of the complaints received that had to do with the guardians or with a threat to the last city, he also kept dozens upon dozens of coordinates for his hidden stashes throughout the system.  Hell, he even had one or two on the Dreadnaught, still, even though the Dreadnaught was now lying dormant and dead in Saturn's orbit.  He wondered briefly if Oryx's corpse was still floating through deep space or if it had rotted away by now.  Do corpses even rot away in the vast coldness of space...?

He shuddered, shaking the dark thought out of his head.  He hoped he'd never have to see Oryx again, dead or alive.  Some guardians came through in a large crowd, clearly they'd just finished running some pain in the ass mission Zavala had sent their way.  Their armor looked pretty banged up, and one of them walked with a limp.  They walked solemnly through the empty soccer field and up the metallic staircase towards Zavala to receive their payment.

To his surprise, he saw a familiar ship pull into the hangar. a ship painted black and a shining metallic purple, with highlights of gold.

"Hmm," he chuckled to himself, "wonder how long it's been since he last spoke to his fireteam.  Or how long it's been since he's showered.  Ugh."

As he finished cringing in disgust at the thought, Alex trans-matted in beside the further-most goal of the field.  He unclasped his helmet, causing it to hiss sharply as the air vacuum undid itself.  He pulled the helmet off, breathing in his first breath of fresh air in what was definitely a good while as he did so.  After his ghost made his helmet vanish into thin air, he made his way towards Amanda, scratching at his beard with a gloved hand.

"Don't tell me that left thruster gave out again, Alex." Amanda sighed and stepped away from the sparrow she was trying to rewire to turn and look at him happily.

"I won't tell you," he smiled back at her, "but i'd definitely take a look at it and see for yourself."

They chuckled and hugged each other before Amanda's face welted up in disgust, she took a few steps back.  "Ugh," she muttered, "where the hell were you that made your armor reek so damned bad?"

"Sorry," Alex chuckled, looking down at his blood, dirt, grime soaked armor, "I... ended up crash landing in the waters of Titan, and then ended up in the heart of a hive tunnel network somehow, and then... Well... You know how it goes.  The usual guardian stuff."

"Could've saved yourself the trouble if you'd bring your damned fireteam with you every now and then."

"What can I say," he shrugged, "I like the quiet.

Cayde turned his attention back to his data-tablet as the two of them chatted away.  She began asking Alex a million questions about this and that and the other thing about his ship, he answered to the best of his abilities, but it was clear he was no technician.  As they chattered away, another titan walked up towards Cayde holding a leather satchel.

"Hey, uh, Cayde?"  The titan asked, Cayde held up a finger in silence as he continued reading a recent report on his datapad.

"Just a sec, guardian, I've got to answer this."  He looked down at the report that had been sent to him on a private, and definitely secure, channel.  The text was eliksni, which Cayde wasn't determined enough to learn how to read, but he recognized the symbol at the bottom.

"Hey, Sundance?" He inquired of his ghost, who appeared instantaneously. "I need you to translate this for me, would you mind?" 

Sundance... Nodded?   Bounced?  He wasn't sure, and he placed the tablet down on his table for her to scan before turning his attention to the guardian in front of him.

"Yeah Guardian, what's up?"  He asked, watching as the titan unbuttoned the satchel.

"I found this in the EDZ, it had an Ace of Spades on it, I assumed it was yours?"  The guardian holds up a handful of worn out yellow papers, Cayde immediately recognizes his own handwriting.

"Yeah, I recognize my handwriting.  Been wondering where these went."  He took the papers, secretly not remembering what they were about or what was written on it. "Did, uh, you go through these?"

The titan shook their head, "Figured it was either private or personal, sir."

"Awesome, good man.  Give me another few seconds and I'll send you some glimmer from my-"

"Um... Cayde?"  His ghost interrupted.  He turned around to face her, "We... You... I... Well... Just look."

Cayde picked up the tablet, reading the text that his ghost had so accurately translated for him.  It was from Petra, at the Vestian Outpost.

"Huh... That's... Odd.. We haven't spoken in a while, wonder what she wants..."  He scrolled, reading it swiftly yet not skipping over anything.  After he was done, he stared at the tablet for what felt like a few more minutes but in actuality was only a few short seconds.  He turned and looked at the guardian expecting his glimmer.

"Guardian, I'll-  I'll pay you back later, I promise you that.  Something's come up.  Excuse me."  Without any hesitation, he put the tablet back down on his desk beside Colonel, who was pecking at a small tray full of seed, and made his way towards Alex and Amanda.

"Sorry to interrupt, you two,"  He states apologetically while looking at Amanda, and then he turns towards Alex, "How soon can you and your fireteam be combat prepped and back onboard your ships?"

"Sir, we can be ready to go in less than fifteen minutes, but-"

"Good," Cayde-6 interrupted, turning and looking at Amanda, "Are my ship's repairs done?"

"The paint hasn't been re-layered yet, but-"

"If it can fly, that's all I need, I'll bring it back to you for painting later."

"If you don't wreck it first," Amanda retorts playfully.

"C'mon Amanda," he smiles at her, waving his arms in a jestful manner, "you know me better than that."

Alex and Amanda shared a glance before both looking at him blankly.

"Okay. Fair point. You know me better than that." He shrugs, turning to look back at Alex, "I need your fireteam ready to go ASAP, I take it you guys know how to get to the Vestian Outpost in the Reef? You've been there before."

Alex nods, not bothering to speak and get interrupted again.

"Good," Cayde replies, heading back towards his tent to grab his travel gear, "I'll see you there within the hour, Guardian."

[ghostmartyr]

Fic: A Terrible Idea [14/?]

Fandom: Attack on Titan Title: A Terrible Idea Author: Immi Rating: PG-13 Summary: Ymir’s pursuit of the hot cheerleader was meant to stay strictly lustful. But it’s a high school AU with a ship tag, so you know, fuck that. Notes: This is secretly a fake dating AU.

Segment summary: Historia digs the hole a little deeper.

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII

Finding more excuses after several weeks of pulling every one she could out of a hat wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Lunch, sure, and several days in the usual prep table had been gracefully overtaken by Ymir and people Ymir put up with. Pieck and Porco thought hanging out with Historia was a spectator sport, and Connie and Sasha had invited themselves when they saw an opening, because that’s what they did.

Reiner bench pressing both of them wasn’t the mood-setter Ymir was looking for, but time together was time together, and they shared zero classes. Lunch and after school. Such were the options, and neither worked great for talking about feelings. Ymir didn’t even want to talk about feelings.

“Yet somehow, you keep finding a way,” Pieck had said in the wake of one of Ymir’s light jogging sessions.

“More like you and Pock keep bringing it up,” was Ymir’s retort.

What she really needed was some time alone with Historia that didn’t leave them both putting up with crap and people they weren’t in the mood for.

“That’s called a date,” Porco had said, head slumped in his pillow while he stopped bothering with keeping his eyes open. Staying up past curfew was a trick his body had somehow never learned. In the bed on the other side of the room, slightly more awake, Marcel had supplied the similarly helpful comment of, “You two text every night. You can’t talk to her then?”

The people in her life failed at being remotely helpful with this, and she hoped they realized that. She’d told Pieck as much. Pieck, being Pieck, hadn’t cared.

“If you want to kiss her again, your mouth is the one that needs to put in the work.” She’d smiled, batting her eyes passively. “I hear you had some trouble with that the first time. Think of this as a much needed learning experience.”

Ymir’s friends were horrible people with not an ounce of compassion attributed to their combined presence.

The fucking problem, which none of them seemed to get, was that being around Historia made her happy. She liked watching her play games on her phone and teasing her about her jackass parents. She liked having someone around who listened to her bitch about her day. She liked how Historia told her she was being a dick while she squeezed her hand.

She liked the stupid, everyday being together enough that she wasn’t actually thinking about kissing her every second of the day, and bringing that up would grind it to a halt, and the only grinding she wanted to do was with Historia.

But with feelings now.

She’d been pretty upfront about the parts that didn’t take feelings. The new addition was different, and.

Just and.

Completing that thought was probably the first step to convincing Historia that making out needed to enter their socializing mix. With Ymir being such a catch, it would probably be the only step, but it was a step that kept not fucking happening for reasons of who the fuck knows.

A lifetime of watching other people screw up their feelings and laughing about it said that Ymir was probably the fuck who knew.

So she took up walking Historia to her car after cheerleading practice and thought about completely fucking over the warm glow that had decided it lived in her chest by talking about wanting the warm glow to be a real, tangible thing with labels and anniversaries.

Historia was fine with Ymir hitting her up for sex and breaking into lockers. Ymir asking her to spend the rest of her life with her was something else, also moving pathetically fast and probably creepy. Too bad that was the only way she could think of saying it, so sad, maybe they’d conveniently trip into each other in a secluded space and Historia would temporarily gain five inches of height so they could just accidentally make out and never talk about it.

Late Friday afternoon, as they walked to the hellspot of asphalt that contained Historia’s driver, that still hadn’t happened. Ymir was shocked. Truly. Shocked.

Sweeping one of the borrowed school towels through her sweat-tousled hair, Ymir struck up some conversation that kept her from thinking about the way Historia looked at her when she did that. “So why the cheerleading?”

“PE credit?”

Another thing Ymir liked about Historia. It was really easy to figure out where to dig.

“Nice try, but you like PE.”

Historia was trying not to smile. She had to try now. “How would you know? My PE years weren’t at this school.”

“Sure, and the fact that you sulk hard enough to bring down thunderclouds whenever your coach cuts practice short doesn’t say anything at all about what you like to do with your body,” Ymir said. “You never complain about the crap choreography because you get to do flips. You’ve got jock written all over your prep face.”

Historia’s shoulder dug into Ymir’s side. “The choreography isn’t that bad.”

“If you cared at all you wouldn’t be able to say that.” Ymir casually dropped her arm down and around Historia. A quick sight check confirmed she was okay with it. As did the small arm snaking across her back. “So,” Ymir continued, stars and lightning and all things frightening lighting up her world, “why did the girl with no cheer pick leading that charge?”

Historia took an exaggeratingly long time feeding her Tamagotchi as the parking lot crept closer.

“Don’t tell me it was the cute girls in skirts.”

“Jealous?” Historia drawled.

“Please,” Ymir said. “They’ve got nothing on me.”

Historia bit her lip and gave the parts of Ymir’s body she wasn’t glued to a thriceover. Ymir’s knees, a little worn out from running, weakened, and Historia’s arm around her waist turned into a weirdly stable anchor.

“If you don’t give me an answer now I’ll just bug you all night,” Ymir said. Nary a choked word in hearing.

Reaching the loading zone section of the sidewalk, Historia stopped. Racing to join Ralph or Sannes and leave Ymir behind was real low on the priority list. “Frieda,” she said.

“Your sis—?”

“Historia!”

Ymir still, despite Hannah’s token efforts, got the track team all over her ass about joining up. She had amazing legs, and everyone wanted them. She was also just plain faster than everyone on the team. Pieck had a passive aggressive stopwatch reading to prove it.

Historia was frozen stiffer than a popsicle. In a fraction of time unobservable by humans later, she had vanished from Ymir’s side and left several Olympic records in smithereens.

“Frieda!”

All that was visible of her was a tiny blonde cannonball plunging into a human who would have been dubbed stunning in any other company.

Plus that smile.

Holy shit that smile.

Ymir almost forgot to miss holding her when Historia was smiling like that. She was hugging the tall young lady (Ymir had never actually met anyone before who fit the term, but Frieda was a lady) with a strength usually reserved for repressed homicidal urges, and she was smiling. Really smiling. With light and sunshine spilling out of her face like the radiance of the universe was trapped up inside her.

The sister was hugging her back maybe half as tightly, but no less happily, because there was no way to be in the presence of that smile, to cause that smile, without some of it rubbing off.

“There you are! How was practice?”

Ymir didn’t think Historia had ever cared less about cheerleading in her life.

“It… it was good! What—when did you get here?”

Frieda stroked several stray hairs back behind Historia’s ear, looking down at her like they were sharing a secret. “Just now,” she said. “What do you think, a good surprise?”

“Yes! I—yes, Frieda, it’s…” Historia had the same level of words to put to the situation that Ymir did. She went with hugging her sister some more instead. Still with the smiling.

Ymir stood in the background like a forgotten stagehand and couldn’t even mind.

Only she was a little less than wholly forgotten, it turned out. Frieda’s sugary sweet teddy bear affection sharpened over Historia’s head. They had the same eyes, but this pair hadn’t had weeks of being won over with charm and good looks.

Ymir had a very dark hunch, and very little evidence against it.

“Who’s this?” Frieda asked lightly.

It was a heavy compliment, Ymir knew, that Historia instantly broke her hug enough to look back at Ymir. She didn’t lose the smile when she did. If anything it brightened. Ymir didn’t think she felt her heart anymore. Mush didn’t have nerve endings.

“This,” Historia said, with all the significance she’d skipped for the last family meet and greet, “is Ymir.”

“Oh,” Frieda said benignly. “The same Ymir you brought to Dad’s party?”

Historia’s smile evaporated.

Ymir’s hunch started to feel a little more like fact.

She had only met Historia’s parents once. If a second time came up, she didn’t see it ending without a murder, and the only thing sparing Frieda at the moment was the streak of overprotectiveness lacing the hammer of judgment she was throwing Ymir’s way.

“That’s me,” Ymir said. There were worse introductions. Better, too, but she was guessing Mama and Papa Reiss had already screwed her on that front.

Frieda smiled congenially at her. You know, like how mother bears bared their teeth before they disemboweled whatever previously living thing was unfortunate enough to step near their cub. “You must be good friends,” she said.

It was bait on a devilish hook, and Ymir wasn’t going to be able to help the swallow.

Historia beat her to it.

It could have happened in slow motion. In a movie reenactment, it would have, and missed out on the stumbling garble that came from Historia saying the words faster than she had time to think about them.

Before Ymir could even think about tactics, in a second of combusting defiance, what tripped out of Historia’s mouth in front of her shiny, sparkly paragon of a sister who would accept nothing less was, “Ymir’s my girlfriend.”

…

So, the obvious: No, she was not.

The other obvious, stashed between Frieda’s good-natured, lying, happy exclamation of surprise and Historia’s rapidly paling face:

Holy fuck that so needed to change.

Next

[cutieodonoghue]

more than all the stars (18/18)

summary: In a world full of soulmates, Emma Nolan doesn’t know who hers is. Enter Killian Jones, attempting to stop his brother from proposing to his soulmate, only to be thrown a curveball when he’s sent to spend Christmas on a farm with a bunch of strangers. (soulmate modern au)

rating: k+ (mild language, suggestive situations later on)

word count: ~2,400

catch up: read it all on tumblr here

also find on: ff.net, ao3

eighteen

The cold night air clings to Emma as she steps into Granny’s Diner for one last meal with her best friend. The warmth presses nicely against her cheeks and fills her lungs in a deep breath she takes in preparation for the time to come.

Elsa sits in the back corner, already smiling sadly in anticipation for the time to follow this final night. With a twinge of bittersweet sadness in her chest, Emma approaches and plucks her gloves from her hands in order to press them into one of the pockets of her coat.

“Emma, I can’t believe this is it for six whole months!”

Elsa stands up in time to hug her at the head of the table and Emma frowns as her eyes squeeze shut at the tightness of their embrace. “I know! I don’t want you to go!”

When they part, they slip easily into their seats as if this were any other night and Emma removes her coat. She can’t help but see the gift in the spot beside Elsa, something that makes her slump her shoulders.

“Elsa, I didn’t know we were doing gifts. I would have gotten you something. Like… a Storybrooke snow globe or something.”

Elsa laughs. “No, it’s okay. It’s just a little something and… well, here, open it.”

Emma eyes her friend warily for a moment before accepting the small package. She opens it to find a ticket to Greenland. 

“It’s so you can come visit me on my birthday.” Elsa explains as she looks up at her with a quirked eyebrow. Her companion sighs, “Because I’m selfish and want you to come to Greenland on my birthday.”

Emma laughs. “Well, I guess I have no excuse to miss it, huh?” 

Elsa shrugs giddily. “Guess so!”

Ruby comes to take their orders, and once she leaves, Emma presses a hand to the table. 

“So I got my soulmate match in the mail.” Emma says.

Elsa’s eyes widen. “You did? And you didn’t call me to tell me their name? Emma, we could have looked him up a dozen times by now.” 

“No, I couldn’t  because it went missing before I could open it!” Emma gasps. “And none of my family says they even looked at it. So I have no clue. It cost me a lot of money, too.” She shakes her head and nibbles on her lower lip as she playfully says, “Maybe Wilby ate it?”

Elsa laughs in a way that makes Emma already miss her friend and these talks at Granny’s. “I doubt that.” 

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to stress about it. I’m just going to keep living my life and hope whoever it is finds me.”

It doesn’t make her the happiest person in the world, knowing she’d had her soulmate’s name sitting in her bedroom and she refused to open it because she was still working up the courage. 

But at the same time, Killian being gone hasn’t even really settled in yet. Part of her thinks he’ll show up to dinner at the house with that stupid smirk and practiced charm that has her mother and grandmother wrapped around his fingers.

He’s a good man, despite the way his leaving made her feel. He had the right reasons for it and she knows he’s living his best life even if it’s not with her like she’d felt so sure it was when she kissed him just barely a day ago. 

“You’re back to square one.” Elsa says, shaking her head slowly. “I think that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“Well, it’s not like they’re just going to walk into the diner and hand me a piece of paper that says, ‘it’s me’.” Emma shakes her head. She straightens out and smiles a little. “I’m going to go with Nana on her trip. I decided this morning. It’ll give me a chance to clear my mind.” 

Elsa’s eyes widen and she gasps, “Oh, that will be so much fun.”

“I hope so.” Emma agrees. She glances down at the table for a second, thinking about the weight that still sits on her shoulders because she never really got a chance at trying with Killian. “So, how’s Liam and being married?” 

“It’s wonderful.” Elsa smiles. “I lucked out. Not only is he handsome, but he’s very tidy so I don’t have to worry about him leaving his clothes everywhere.”

Emma chuckles. “No, but he’ll have to worry about your messes.” 

Elsa shrugs. “It’s a give and take, Emma, what can I say?”

They both laugh and fall quiet again, a pleasant feeling settling in the silence. She’ll miss Elsa more than anything, but this is going to be so good for her to go to Greenland with her husband. Besides, they still have Skype and email and everything in between, and she’s apparently going to visit her on her birthday too. 

“What am I going to do without you?” Emma asks, shaking her head on a sigh. “Who will I come to with all of my stories about the farm?”

Elsa lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know! I’m absolutely heartbroken I have to leave you here all by yourself. I’ll miss all of the hot gossip.” 

Emma chuckles lightly. “Like how Graham flirts with Mayor Mills, but only when he’s super drunk?”

“And then somehow mistook her for me,” Elsa sighs wistfully. “I will never forget it. I will never live it down.” 

Emma can’t help but giggle even more at the memory.

From somewhere behind her, the bell above the door tinkles and Elsa’s jaw falls open. “Well, I don’t want to point out the dramatic irony here, but…”

Frowning, she turns just in time to find Killian Jones standing at the head of the table, looking breathless as ever and freezing cold. He squats down beside her as she barely says his name aloud. 

A smile finds his lips. “Hey.”

Emma shakes her head slowly. “How are you… why…” 

Killian reaches into his pocket and removes a white envelope. “I… feel awful about this, but I stole your mail.”

“What?” He sets the paper into her hand and she sees the from address. Slowly, she looks up at him. “Why?” 

Killian’s expression softens and she sees tears gather in his eyes. “I thought I would be protecting you.”

“From my soulmate?” she asks, shaking her head in confusion. 

“In a sense.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “Wh-” 

“After sledding on Christmas, I accidentally saw your mark,” he admits quietly. “I…”

He doesn’t continue, instead looking down like a child about to be disciplined. “Emma-” 

She figures the only way she’ll get a straight answer is if she opens the mail, no matter how badly it scares her. He’s already torn it open, so the paper comes out easily.

Her eyes dart around the page for a moment before they land on the most important section: 

Match Name: Killian Jones

Immediately, her heart skips a frantic beat and her fingers get clammy with nervousness. 

She understands why he’d keep it from her now, with his decision to go with his father, to abandon her after she put it all out on the line for him.

Tears of relief and confusion find her eyes and she looks up at him. “Killian.” 

“What I did was wrong,” he admits with the most grieved expression, “I hope you can forgive me, Emma. I’ve come back this time to be with you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize. I just…” He sighs heavily. “I was afraid of losing my old life, but it was nothing to how terrified I was of losing you. All of you- your family included.”

“You gave it up to be with me?” she asks, eyes narrowed. 

“Aye.” He grimaces. “I know, it’s not anything for you to forgive straight away. I should have just quit while I was here and never abandoned you.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “But I needed to go back because I needed to close that chapter before we could start ours. You have to know that I didn’t believe I could find anyone else… until I met you.”

Any frustration she’d felt fades and instead, she feels hope and joy in the racing rhythm of her heartbeat. He left, yes, but he came back. Again and again, he came back. 

Emma sets the paper aside and presses her tongue against her lips briefly.

“Killian.” 

He stares at her like a man pleading for his life, the furrow in his deepening with each word he speaks, “When I win your heart, Emma-”

“Killian,” she laughs. 

He looks up at her with the softest expression, still incredibly repentant, and she reaches out for his cheek. Her thumb brushes against his scar, a little thing she knows she’ll spend hours memorizing in the time to come.

“You came back to me.” 

He searches her eyes. His voice breaks ever so slightly, “Can you ever forgive me?”

The desperation he displays is something she feels burning in her chest, knowing full well that saying yes now means an eternity with the man her heart continues to long for- her soulmate. 

With her heart in her throat, she nods and whispers, “Yes.”

At her insistence, he presses upward and easily finds her lips, his happy laughter infectious. They break apart, eyes meeting, and she runs her fingers up the nape of his neck to find his hair. 

She doesn’t know if she’s ever been this happy before in her whole life.

His eyes shine brightly and she just knows that everything is how it was always supposed to be. He’s here. 

Abruptly, Killian seems to realize where they are and looks over at her counterpart with an incredibly apologetic tone. “Sorry, Elsa, I didn’t mean to interrupt your last meal before you’re off.”

He stands back, something that makes Emma want to grab him and pull him back into her again. She misses him, even though he’s right here with her. 

Her friend has her hands clasped against her chest, admiring both of them with shimmering eyes. “It’s totally okay.”

Emma laughs along with Elsa, for a completely different reason. She grabs the envelope and letter, giving it another look with disbelief. 

He’s hers. Like, officially hers. Even past her deep desire to have him in her life, hers.

She looks up at him, her soulmate, the man she aches to be with from the very core of herself. He stares right back at her and all she can see is a future in his smile and the creases beside his blue eyes. 

“I’ll go,” he finally says, smiling at Elsa. “I… should find Liam.”

Disappointment sinks into the pit of her belly, but she knows he shouldn’t just stay here. It is her and Elsa’s last evening at Granny’s for six months after all, and he sort of showed up uninvited to drop the soulmate news on her- news that makes her insides practically jump for joy at the thought. 

He’s gone before she gets a chance to say anything, instead leaving her with a bright smile and a, “Text me when you’re free, alright?”

Emma turns ahead, staring at the paper before folding it up and staring at Elsa instead. Her friend shakes her head. 

“Go. I know you want to. He’s too polite to interrupt the whole night, but you’re soulmates, Emma. This needs to be celebrated. Wildly. Right now.”

Emma hesitates. “No, it’s fine. It’s our special last meal together.” 

Elsa gives her a hard look. “Emma Ruth Nolan, I swear if you don’t go after him, I’ll bring him back myself. Go.”

She closes her eyes briefly on a laugh. “Fine. I’ll go. I’ll be there tomorrow morning to help, though.” 

With a calm and kind nod, Elsa says, “That’s perfect.”

Quickly, she slides her coat and hat on, grabbing the rest of her things before she leaves the table and heads toward the door. 

Killian’s standing at the entryway of Granny’s patio area, with his back turned to her and his gaze set on the stars. He’s not moving, maybe because he’s caught up with himself and needs a minute to collect himself.

She lets out a breath, a puff of white air populating the space before her, and then she jogs up to him and stops beside him. As if sensing her presence, he looks down at her. 

“So. Soulmates.” Emma says, offering him a wry look. “Guess you can have two after all.”

Killian smiles at her sweetly. “Aye.” 

Not wanting to make a scene, but also wanting to pounce on him and never stop kissing him, she settles for taking his hand in hers. Easily, their fingers align and fold against each other.

Her breath catches and she gestures toward her car. “Come on.” 

Together, they walk in a companionable silence to her car. After climbing inside, she starts the engine to get the heat running and turns to him.

Part of her feels like a giddy teenager finally having gotten alone with a boy she likes. Having spent much of her life waiting for this day to come even if it was on a deep subconscious level, she thinks it’s probably forgivable. 

Not willing to wait any longer, she leans over the center console and cups his cheek as he does the same to her. Their lips meet in a heated frenzy, both of them desperate and terribly grateful that they’ve found each other and that the timing is right.

When they finally stop kissing, they bump noses, foreheads touching. 

“I wanted to be with you before I knew,” she whispers. “Just so we’re clear.”

Killian meets her eyes and smiles slightly. “I know.” 

Emma sighs and pulls at his hair that’s caught between her fingers. “Let’s get married in two days.”

Killian stares at her for a second as if he believes she’s being serious, but then catches on, laughing as she does too. 

“It’s the only way to do it, of course.”

Smiling, she kisses him again, and this time, she moves away when she’s done, staring at him with as much affection as he stares at her. 

“Let’s go home.”

Killian nods. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”